#Like part of me DOES recognize potential hang ups from all the scheduling issues and what not last year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightsovermonaco · 4 years ago

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

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#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #my writing #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 20

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

His apartment smells stale and dusty. His thrice weekly trips here to feed his fish are always quick and procedural; he hasn’t stopped to take in the state of the place in a while. A thick layer of dust covers most surfaces, his mattress is bare and there is no toilet paper in the bathroom. He sighs, frustrated and annoyed as he roots around in the closet for a set of sheets to make up the bed. He showers, remembering that his shower head is way too low for his tall frame, and misses Scully’s more luxurious setup.

He also, of course, misses Scully. He understands why she’s upset; he should have called, but the degree of her anger confuses him. When the X files reopened, he talked to her about the need to travel, and the potential for cases to disrupt their personal life. She said she understood, and they’ve worked through several hiccups already. So while he knew she’d be disappointed that he missed Thanksgiving and maybe even irritated at his lack of communication, he’d never anticipated being thrown out of her apartment.

He crawls into his bed, cold and lonely. They just both need a good night's sleep and this will blow over tomorrow, he’s sure. When he’s more well-rested, he’ll be able to explain, to help her understand.

In the morning, he feels a bit more clear-headed, but still decidedly off-balance; he needs to make things right with Scully. He packs up his things, feeds the fish, and drives back over to her apartment. He opens the door and finds the place quiet, the lights out. Something seems off, but he doesn’t immediately recognize what it is.

“Priscilla,” he calls, realizing that the cat hadn’t come to greet him at the door like she typically does.

He walks through to the bedroom, the bathroom, but there’s no sign of either of them. Back in the living room, he sees that the litter box is gone and his heart sinks. He goes back to the bedroom and throws open closets and drawers, checks the medicine cabinet. Scully’s overnight bag is gone, as is her toothbrush and the toiletries she uses daily. His heart starts racing, panic setting in at the idea that she’s left him, and taken his cat with her. This is worse than he’d initially thought, a lot worse.

He goes to the hallway and picks up the phone to try her cell, but it’s off. He tries her mother, who hasn’t spoken to her today. He tries Missy, who doesn’t answer. Not knowing what else to do, he calls Valerie.

“Hi, Will, good to hear from you,” she says, and he can hear the gurgle of her infant daughter in the background. Thankfully, he’d thought to call her a couple weeks ago and offer congratulations on her new arrival, so this phone call today won’t seem totally selfish.

“Hey, Val, I hope you and the baby are doing well,” he says, “I’m sorry to drop this on you, but I’m somewhat in need of advice.”

“Yikes, what’d you do?” she asks knowingly, and he hears her speak in hushed tones to her boyfriend as he takes the baby.

“I fucked up, Val. She’s gone,” he chokes out, tears constricting his throat.

Sitting heavily on the couch, he tells her about the X files reopening, about missing Thanksgiving, about Scully’s irrationally explosive reaction. She listens quietly, asking a few clarifying questions.

“I feel totally blindsided, Val. You and I were together when I was assigned to the X files before, and I had cases like this that took me away at odd times, but it wasn’t an issue. I don’t understand why it’s one now. I’m not sure which one of us is out of line here.”

“Wow, okay, where to start,” Valerie begins. “First of all, I think you’re both out of line. You are an epically huge asshole, Will, no question there, but taking your cat and disappearing is a bit much.”

He feels a pang of defensiveness for her saying something unflattering about Scully, but he pushes it down.

“Something else that strikes me,” she continues, “is your questionably accurate recollection of what our relationship was like when you were assigned to the X files.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting up.

“Maybe I did a better job of hiding it than I thought, but I fucking hated that assignment, Will. I was relieved when it was shut down, but you were so upset I didn’t think it would be helpful for me to tell you as much at the time.”

“You hated it? Why? I always felt like you were supportive,” he asks, questioning his entire understanding of their relationship.

“I tried to be, but it sucked always coming second. I understood why it was so important to you in terms of trying to find out what happened to Samantha so I dealt with it, but it was kind of like the X files was the other woman in your life. I knew that if it came down to it and you had to choose, you’d choose her. It was really painful. I honestly think if they hadn’t been shut down, we probably would have broken up a lot sooner.”

He runs his free hand over his face. “Then what do I do? Quit the X files after I worked so hard to get them back? I haven’t felt this satisfied with work in years, I don’t want to have to do that.”

“I don’t think you need to quit, you just need to learn how to prioritize things differently. She needs to know she comes first.”

“That’s not how it works, Val, you know that. When a lead comes across my desk, I have to run it down. I have to go out, investigate. I have to find answers.”

“No, Will,” she says with a sympathetic sigh, “You don’t have to do that. You choose to. And you choose to do it at her expense. That’s exactly why she’s so upset. Even if in your mind it feels like you don’t have a choice, you do. That might mean missing out sometimes, passing on a case or not finding the answers. But you can’t have it both ways. You can put the X files first and be alone, or you can put her first and sometimes miss an opportunity to investigate the files.”

“Is it really that simple?” he asks flatly.

“It really is,” she answers. “The truth is, Will, that you may love those files, but they’ll never love you back. You’ll find yourself a lonely old man if you don’t get your priorities straight.”

He slumps down on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“Thanks, Val. I’m really grateful that I can talk to you about this,” he says earnestly.

“Happy to be of service,” she says lightly. “Let me tell you something else, Will,” she adds, “you better work this shit out before you have kids with her, because it gets twenty times harder.”

He chuffs a laugh, but the thought of having kids with Scully simultaneously makes him feel elated and terrified, because he’s not sure if he’s already messed it up too badly for that to be an option anymore.

———

She’s curled up on her side in the middle of Missy’s bed, Priscilla tucked against her belly and purring loudly.

Missy spends most of her time at John’s these days, so she offered her apartment as a place for Dana to crash, or hide out, or whatever it is that she’s doing. She’s honestly not sure, she just knows that she needs to be away from Mulder. To get space, to give it, to punish him, maybe all of those things. She wants him to hurt like she did, to not know where she is or when she’ll be back. She hopes that he fears she might be gone for good, though she knows she’s not. Taking Priscilla was just logical; having no idea when Mulder might come home she couldn’t very well leave her there to fend for herself. Knowing that it will add salt to the wound does give her some sick satisfaction, though.

The house phone rings and she lets it go, given that it’s not her apartment. The answering machine kicks on and Missy speaks to her as the message plays, telling her to pick up.

“Hello?” she answers, catching it just before Missy hangs up.

“Hey, Mulder is on his way over there,” Missy says breathlessly.

“What? Why?” she asks, not sure if she’s ready to see him.

“He showed up here, he’s been looking all over for you. He asked me if I knew where you were and I said no, but I’m a shitty liar, Sis.”

“Okay, I guess I have to talk to him sometime,” she answers, a sick feeling churning in her gut.

“Call me after, okay? Good luck.”

She relocates to the living room, not wanting this conversation to take place on Missy’s bed, and waits. The longer she waits, the more on edge she feels. When the knock finally comes, Priscilla startles and runs into the bathroom.

She stokes her own anger as she walks to the door, straightening her posture. She is mad, indignant, furious, ready to go into battle. That is, until she opens the door and sees his crumpled expression, his hooded eyes contrite and devastated. All the anger pours out through her heels, replaced by grief and fear. She feels her chin pucker, her nose burning as emotion wells in her throat.

“Scully,” he croaks out, and she steps forward, opening her arms to him. He folds against her like a rag doll, this big, strong man suddenly like putty. They make their way to the couch and he curls into her lap like a child, crying softly with a tortured grimace. She pets his hair, not offering any words of reassurance, but letting him know she’s there. He sits up a little, wrapping his arms around her rib cage and tucking his face into her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he says in a harsh whisper, and her heart aches. She wants to forgive him, but sorry is not enough.

“I can’t live this way, Mulder,” she says against his shoulder, and he pulls back to look at her, not sure what she means. “I grew up watching my mother wait for my father to come home,” she explains. “Each time he didn’t write when he said he would, or call on a scheduled day, every time there was something about a navy ship in the news. We waited up, praying that he was okay, and it was torture. I swore that I would never put myself or my children in that position, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

His gaze drops away from her face and he nods sadly. “I didn’t understand, Scully, how to have both the X files and a relationship. I thought I was doing what had to be done, but I see now that I wasn’t putting you first, and I’m sorry. I’m going to do things differently, I promise. Please, give me another chance to get it right.”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers and she can see that he really means it, that he really understands. She nods, and he kisses her desperately; her lips, her cheeks, her ears, her hair. He kisses down her neck as he clings to her, his hands touching her back, her arms, her thighs.

“I was so scared, Scully,” he squeaks out between kisses. “I love you so much, and I was so afraid I ruined everything.”

He kisses the tears from her cheeks, finding her lips again as she grips the back of his neck, pushing her tongue into his mouth hungrily, needing him so much closer. He shifts to put his back against the couch, pulling her into his lap and gripping her hips, arching his pelvis up into her.

She’s overwhelmed with arousal, and love, and desperation. He pushes the hem of her shirt up and over her head, finding her braless, and sucks a nipple between his lips. She whimpers, slipping her hand down to rub her palm roughly over the bulge in his jeans and eliciting a deep moan from his throat. She stands suddenly, pulling down her cotton pants and panties, and he follows suit, standing just long enough to push his jeans and boxers down to his knees, sitting again as she climbs astride him. She impales herself on his erection, crying out in relief as they move together, foreheads resting against each other and their eyes locked as she flexes her hips forward and back, pleasure taking away all the hurt and pain.

When she closes her eyes to focus on the sensations, he brings his mouth to her ear, teasing at the lobe with his tongue and whispering to her, his thumb appearing against her clit and sending shockwaves down her legs.

“I love you so much. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, okay? You’re the only thing that matters.” His affirmations flood her with dopamine and she comes hard around him, the feeling extending to the tips of her fingers and turning her joints to jelly. He clutches her to him, finding his own release as he continues to make grand declarations of forever.

As they come down, he peppers her with kisses in the same way he’d started, desperation replaced with contentment. He pulls back a little to look at her.

“Will you come home?” he asks hopefully, and she nods with a soft smile.

“Don’t ever tell Missy we had sex on her couch,” she says, and they both laugh.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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sneakerdoodle · 3 years ago

Text

"(Not) Alone", Chapter 2

Rated: K

Get some uhhhhhh friend times, winter outfits, background gays and existential crisis! Alternative summary:

"Miriam is like you're gonna' rummage through the contents of my heart? okay. what's in your drawers"

- @buttercup-bug <3 big thanks to them for their support and consultation too!!!!

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PDF || ff.net

General warnings: states potentially resembling a panic attack; moderately graphic metaphors, including mentions of drowning; familial tension

- This time I see where I'm flying, at least, - Miriam mutters, seemingly to herself.

Kiwi, fiddling with the strap of the bag hanging behind them, thinks back to Miriam's first and latest visit to Chismest. The flight there is hard to remember through the blur of pain they were in, but they can vaguely recall their friend complaining about the smog through coughing fits, as well as the jerking movements of the broom as she would aggressively rub her watering eyes.

Now, the skies above Chismest are clear, and the frosted trees below are sparkling in the sunlight. It is quieter, too, without the incessant thud of machines that would vibrate through the atmosphere in a low vague hum.

- Still too hecking cold, - Miriam grumbles and clenches her fists harder around the broom to get the blood flowing.

Bard readily leans closer in, sharing whatever body heat they can. Their cheek smooshes against Miriam's back, and the next words come out slightly muffled.

- You must be glad we're packed! Want me to get your cape?

Miriam shakes her head emphatically.

- Nope, thanks, no bag-rummaging in the air.

Kiwi nods slowly, looking past their dangling feet, down below, to the town's edge.

Miriam brings the broom to a bit of a rushed stop, and it hovers in the air, gently swaying up and down. Bard straightens, pulling away.

- Well, we're here. Where to? - Miriam's head is turned as she examines Bard's face, questioningly and with a hint of suspicion.

- Down! - he chirps nonchalantly. Miriam rolls her eyes.

- Thanks. Great tip. It's too early to go to the Observatory, so down where?

Bard contemplates, sinking a bit into their shoulders, and watches the town below. It's changed, a lot. The streets are lighter, and the people are moving through them at a much more of a leisurely pace. There seems to be no shame about being out and about during daytime, no one is in a hurry to get from one place to another. From somewhere below, they can even hear what sounds like faint, soft music.

Bard smiles timidly, entertaining the thought of actually having a good time in their hometown.

- Let's go on a tour!

They land at the outskirts, and Miriam shivers instinctively as the snow crunches under her foot. Bard immediately dives into the bag Saphy has lovingly packed for the two and pulls out a warm woven cape and a wide magenta scarf, presenting them to Miriam with a shining smile. She takes them from their hands, begrudgingly, as if having a body capable of getting cold is something to be self-conscious about. As soon as the cape rests on her shoulders, however, her expression softens into one of comfort and quiet content.

Bard follows her example and wraps a similar long shawl around their own shoulders. It's soothing, both with its warmth and weight, and they close their eyes for a second, sitting with the calm. A long hand-knitted striped scarf follows, and Kiwi feels the most equipped for the cold they can possibly be.

The bag is still heavy on their shoulder. They reach in and pull out a warm and pointy winter hat – and can almost hear Miriam's defenses coming right up. She looks at them with a determined frown, fight-ready.

- No.

- Aw, come on, Miriam! - they try not to smile too widely. - You should stay warm!!

Miriam stares at them in ferocious defiance, unblinking, for a good ten seconds. With a groan, she finally caves in, snatches the hat out of their hands and puts it on. Her face goes red with embarrassment, and she promptly looks away and pulls the scarf over her mouth.

Pulled on in a hurry, the hat sits on Miriam's head slightly sideways, with ruffled hair sticking out from under it and getting in the girl's face. She puts one messy lock away in a jerky motion, tucking it under an ear flap before crossing her arms and looking down at her feet. Bard watches in unconcealed endeared amusement.

- How come you don't get one, - Miriam blurts out, in a tone that implies that she does not expect much of an answer. With an annoyed sigh, she grabs Bard by the sleeve and heads towards the town.

- Not a word to Saphy.

Walking through the streets of Chismest is... strange, almost overwhelming. The town is unexpectedly loud, with the voices of its residents bouncing from one corner to another, sounding from the windows that used to barely ever open. The distant sounds of music Bard heard from up on the broom are closer now, creating an uncharacteristically melodic ambiance. And the weirdest of all, there is so much variety.

Beth's diner is inviting people in to try Katya's new pastry recipe. The Gift House is no more, replaced by a general store. Tanya stands in front of it, fixing a sign that reads: “Next island fruit shipment: TUESDAY, 12 PM”. She notices the two guests and waves at them before going back inside.

Johann is standing in front of the ex-factory building, frowning at the timetable of various workshops, community meetings and the Astronomy Board sessions, apparently figuring out a scheduling issue with Elmer: the lesson on identifying local plants seems to be encroaching onto the public presentation of his newest potential enterprise.

Miriam lingers under the very lantern she would spend her time by back when she and Bard visited Chismest together for the first time. She looks at the large building that used to house the endless deafening machines. It is still slightly shocking in how it looms over the rest of Chismest.

- ...Weird, - Miriam says after a while. Bard hums noncommittally. Miriam looks at them, impatient for a more engaged response. - Very weird, right? I'd only been there for a week, and it still freaks me out to be around this... thing. How are they all just, getting on with it???

Bard is quiet for a moment, unsure whether anything they have to say is worth voicing, but Miriam's gaze is insistent, so they give it a try.

- They're taking it back?.. I think... it's always been their town, and now they can sort of... take it back for themselves?

Put into words, the thought surprises them. They reflect on it for a moment. Is that the reason they still aren't keen on coming back, even after hearing all about the wonderful transformations Chismest has gone through? Maybe it's never been their town, they way it has been for all its other victims, all these other people that were hurt by it but never left. Has it.. always been a question of belonging? Not one of finding a better life?..

She is pulled back out of her thoughts by Miriam's skeptical hum. The girl shifts her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably a couple of times before asking, unsure:

- Do you... wanna go in?..

Kiwi hurriedly shakes her head, and Miriam lets out a sigh of relief.

- Yeah. Me neither.

They continue on their way, approaching the Clocktower Pub, which appears to be the source of music tinting the town views a subtle but cheerful color. In front of the pub, a group of people is gathered in front of a samovar in a seemingly passionate discussion. Among them, Bard recognizes Elara. Like everyone else around her, she is holding a steaming mug.

Boris splashes some of his tea as he swings his arm to make a point.

- Zere is enough coal, no? Nothing iz broken, so why fix?

Elara wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, still calm, but more ardent than Bard remembers her. Before she gets to make her defense, Miles chimes in with a tired groan.

- Yeah, well, the Lights are right there every year, so why the hell not.

- But ze expenses...

- Why not think of it as an investment... - Elara starts, before noticing the two visitors approaching the group. She blinks in surprise behind her glasses. - Oh! You're here already.

Kiwi smiles awkwardly while Miriam waves her hand, then demonstratively hugs her shoulders. The next moment, a mug of tea lands in her palms, expeditiously passed from hands to hands from where the samovar is sitting on a large wooden table. Miriam looks down at it in surprise, startled into her special sort of quietness, processing the simple and natural act of kindness.

- We arrived early! - Bard replies, smiling gratefully at Miles who hands them another mug. - Just walking around for now!

Elara nods slowly.

- This place has changed a lot, hasn't it?

Bard pulls their lips into a smile. For a moment their gaze lingers on Elara, thoughtful. It's so different, seeing her as a part of the community, freely sharing her practical solutions, engaging openly rather than conducting interventions from the margins. She fits right in.

- Well, Winston will be waiting for you in the evening. I hope to stop by as well.

She turns to Miriam, who's been quietly sipping her tea and looking at the group from over her mug.

- You're going to need to have a night's rest before heading back, aren't you? You are welcome to stay at the Observatory, if you would like.

Miriam chokes on the tea and coughs, her cheeks growing pink.

- Oh, - she croaks out, - no, I'm good. Uh. Thanks.

Elara nods.

- Well, let us know. Now, if you excuse me...

She turns back to the group, where Miles' eye rolls are starting to get dangerously expressive.

Miram finishes her tea in a bit of a hurry, circles around the gathering to place the mug on the table and slips away, seeming slightly overwhelmed by the hospitable treatment. Bard follows, waving goodbye to Elara and the rest.

They catch up to Miriam and look around absentmindedly, eyes gliding over the fronts of multi-storey buildings. Ahead, they catch a smudge of orange and red – and slow down. Miriam slows her pace, too, and follows his eyes to where flowers growing in front of the window of his childhood home are nodding their colorful heads to the faint music.

Miriam stops with a quiet sigh.

- Are you sure about it all? - she asks, with the emphasis that is only natural, considering she has already had to ask this question at least thrice.

Bard tears their eyes away from the flowers and turns to her. They take a few seconds, then nod.

- Yeah 🎶, - they sing, low and quiet, and fidget with their hands for a second before continuing: - Just... for a bit there, can you...

- ...Yeah. - Miriam rocks back on her heels for a moment, gearing herself up, then steps towards Kiwi and takes them by the hand. Her expression is nervous and awkward, but she musters a small reassuring squeeze. Bard feels slightly less alone. - Come on.

Bard's hand sits firmly in Miriam's as they sigh before knocking on the door; Miriam does not let go once they are already inside, either, waved in by Kiwi's Mom.

- Sit down, now! - Mom coos in her customary enthusiasm. - I will brew you some tea. Are you and your friend hungry, muffin? - before Kiwi can mumble anything vague in response, she continues: - I have the lunch all ready! Too bad your father is on one of his walks. - Mom shakes her head with that signature vocal laugh. - What a restless man he is!

Bard's sigh of relief is so resounding that for a moment, they are scared Mom will notice. Luckily, she seems too busy rummaging through the cabinets. They look at Miriam, reassured, and loosen their fingers. Miriam's hold persists, however. She gives them a serious, meaningful look, an “I'm here, okay? So don't be stupid” that she can't quite express with her words. Only then, she lets go, but does not break eye contact. Bard's gaze drops down to their feet as they take a second to internalize the sentiment. When they look back up, their smile is timid and grateful.

- Are you hungry? - they ask in a dramatic whisper. Miriam shrugs, then shakes her head. - Thanks, - Kiwi says to Mom, voice slightly strained, - I think we'll just... hang around!

- Nonsense! - she titters in response, turning around with a tray already holding a tea set. - At least have some tea with your old momma!

Bard gives Miriam an apologetic look. She seems downright agonized at the thought of forcing more hot beverages down her throat so soon.

The tea break is the appropriate amount of awkward. Mom asks Miriam about the life in Delphi and the everyday routines of an average witch household, and Miriam grumbles her replies while doing her best drinking impression. The ruse is up once Mom goes to pour everyone another round and discovers Miriam's cup about as full as it was at the start. After having a proper laugh about “that curious friend of yours, muffin”, she finally dismisses the two of them, saying it is time for her to take care of some chores.

Bard plops down on their bed and sighs. They look at Miriam with a sorry little smile. She is standing in the door, looking around the room with a perplexed expression.

- I've never been here before, - she notes, mistrustfully, somehow.

- Oh! I guess you haven't! - Bard looks around the bare walls and minimal furniture. It's not much.

Miriam seems to arrive at the same conclusion.

- Doesn't seem like you, - she says, poking a bouquet of dried flowers.

- There used to be more, - Kiwi mumbles absentmindedly, resting their chin on their hand. - Miriam!! - they gasp with a jump as their friend throws one of the drawers of the bedside table open. Miram stumbles backwards, startled.

- Yeesh, sorry. I thought you weren't one for personal boundaries??

Bard sits with this fair observation for a moment, processing their own hypocrisy.

- W... well--

- I'm not pushing or anything, - Miriam grumbles, - just... surprised you're familiar with the concept.

Bard shrugs and hums an awkward inconclusive sound. They look over to the open drawer and shuffle closer to it to see what is inside. Miriam pointedly looks at the wall in a demonstration of her respect for Kiwi's personal space.

At the bottom of the drawer, there is a handful of crayons and an old notebook. They pick it up and leaf through it, an array of colorful drawings flickering in a quick succession. All the bright fantasies of their childhood are momentarily revived before them. A small smile tugs at the corners of Bard's mouth.

They linger on one page and giggle, then open the notebook wide and hold it in front of them, demonstrating. Miriam looks over and arches her brow.

- What am I looking at exactly?

- Me!, - Bard helpfully supplies. - As a witch 🎶.

And that is exactly what the drawing depicts. A younger version of them, with a different hairstyle, in a pose resembling an overexcited starfish, clad in dramatic dark robes and a pointy hat with a big glowing star on it.

Miriam stares for a good few seconds.

-....why.

- Because witches are cool!! - Kiwi exclaims, without a shred of sarcasm. The skeptic look on Miriam's face deepens. She squints at the drawing.

- Is... - she snorts, - ...is your hair pink?

Bard cracks up again, and Miriam shortly follows, the two dissolving into a duet of giggles.

Kiwi pats the space next to them, and his friend joins, looking over his shoulder at the series of doodles detailing Witch-Bard's magical adventures.

Hours pass effortlessly, in joint reminiscing, daydreaming and doodling.

***

- ...and once you're all set and sure of where it's pointing relatively to, uh, the Anchor, you use the finder to, well, find things!

Winston pauses his slightly nervous chirping and looks at his audience comprised of Miriam, struck into overwhelmed silence, and Bard, who is otherwise occupied.

- Did... did you get any of that? - Winston inquires with the same frantic smile.

Noticing the break in the background noise of thorough astronomical instructions, Bard finally looks up from giving Berry all of the most loving pets in the world – to see Miriam looking at them in quiet despair. Reading the look of blissful unawareness on her friend's face, she sighs.

- Can't you, like... write it all down or something??

Winston nods hurriedly, already on his way to the desk. From the looks of it, he has pretty much moved into the observatory full time, and happily. Bard watches him stick his hands into the pockets of the labcoat and make it flap against his legs, for about the tenth time in the past hour. They wonder why an astronomer would need a labcoat. Do they have to get one too?

Miriam walks over to Kiwi and watches glumly as they scratch Berry behind her ear.

- Aren't you excited? - Bard asks, noting the moody energy. Miriam hums in uncertainty.

- Just... - she gives another annoyed sigh and kicks the floor with the pointy toe of her boot. - Nothing. - She crosses her arms and averts her eyes, then finally shares in a low, muffled voice: - ...hate feeling stupid.

Bard looks up, blinking in surprise.

- You're not!! You know so many awesome things, Miriam!

She stands there silently for a few seconds, before crouching next to them. Bard readily scooches over.

Miriam slowly, nervously extends her hand towards Berry. Their four-legged friend sniffs the tips of Miriam's fingers before lovingly sticking her nose into the girl's palm and wagging her tail. Miriam exhales in relief and gives Berry a few slow, focused pets.

- Thanks. - There is another pause as she struggles with the words for a bit. - We're... gonna try together, yeah?

Bard flashes an enthusiastic smile.

- Yeah! 🎶

- ...Okay, - Miriam does not look away from the dog, who is leaning into the touch with half-lidded eyes. - Then… don't make me figure it all out on my own, - she continues in a more casual grumble. - Don't hang around here for too long.

Bard nods slowly, turning away from Miriam, back to where Berry has dissolved into a euphoric puddle.

- I... won't.

Winston returns with a small stack of papers scribbled over with a frantic hand and awkwardly shoves them in Miriam's vague direction. She just barely manages to get back up on her feet and not lose balance as the paper tumbles into her arms. Winston hurriedly withdraws, slapping his arms along his body, and laughs nervously as Miriam disgruntledly tries to keep the pages from raining all over the floor.

- Uhm, - Winston fiddles with his hands and avoids Bard's eyes when she looks up, questioning. - Is it... just you?.. I mean, joining the project...

- There are many!! - Kiwi rests their chin in their hand, thinking back to Delphi and recounting everyone who seemed excited about the arrival of the telescope. - Ryan and Mitzi, so Dani as well, Lena, Fredrick, Whit...

- Shockingly, - Miriam mutters from where she is still fussing with the instructions, trying to fit them into the overpacked bag. Bard shoots her a scandalized look, a trained non-verbal substitute for “Miriam, be nice!!”.

Winston marks each mentioned name with a nod, a wide thin-lipped smile on his face.

- I... don't know who any of these people are, - he concludes, finally, before turning away and marching back over to his desk. There seems to be a glimmer of genuine joy in his embarrassment, however. Bard thinks back to Elara's letter, inviting them to become a part of the mapping initiative.

“I would be proud to take credit for the project, were it actually mine. Winston is, undoubtedly, the heart of the operation. I told him his conception of it was outstanding - he seemed equally hopeful and horrified. I think he'd take great pleasure in that: making this sort of connection with so many new people. Finding... cohorts, if you will”.

Once the last final glare of sunshine dissipates completely, Winston invites his guests over to the observation deck, the telescope in tow. Kiwi and Miriam fumble with the stand under his fretful watch, but manage to fix the apparatus in place without breaking anything. Winston points out the Anchor star, once again, and fixes the telescope on it.

- Try the finder first, then--

- Yeah, yeah, - Miriam hurries to interrupt, and Bard catches the familiar notes of embarrassment in her voice. They gently bump their shoulder against hers in silent support. Miriam draws a steadying breath. - ...I think we got it. Uh, thanks.

She looks over at Bard, quietly tilting her head towards the telescope in invitation. They light up and step towards it, holding their breath. The most beautiful colors bloom in their mind, inspired by all the magical stellar landscapes pictured on the walls of the observatory. What will be the first shade of the whole rest of the Universe that they will see?

Bard puts their eye straight to the eyepiece (Winston whimpers somewhere out of view, forcibly choking the word ''finder'' back). They squint, trying to make anything out in the blur.

- Well?? - Miriam asks, antsy.

- Iiiii don't see anything! - Bard replies, hoping their disappointment is not too apparent in how hollow their usual casual tone comes out.

From the sounds of it, Winston is on the verge of unraveling as he is trying desperately to let the two figure things out on their own.

Miriam groans.

- Stupid overcomplicated glass tubes... Let me... - she steps towards the telescope cautiously, like it is a wild animal, and stares at it for a while. Then reaches for one of the lenses lined up at the end and moves it out of the way with an unsteady hand, looking deeply unsure and skeptical.

- Try now?..

Bard puts their eye back to the glass, trying really hard to not get their hopes up.

- Miriam, - they utter under their breath, - come look.

Through the lens of the telescope, they are seeing another world. It is distant, silent, seemingly unmoving. And yet, in the swirling pattern of stardust, they sense a spiraling dance, sweeping their soul away with it.

Pure, awe-struck exhilaration rises in their chest, all but bringing them to tears in a sudden crescendo – when suddenly, they feel their heart drop, endlessly, like it is hurtling through the dark suffocation of space surrounding the twirling stars.

The arms of the spiral galaxy, its overpowering gravity, remind them of the dark pull of the black hole at the end of time. And no matter how hard they try not to think about it, they know exactly what lies on the other side.

Bard all but jumps away from the telescope and stumbles backwards, instinctively throwing their hands up in front of them in a protective gesture. The familiar despair laps at her heart, and suddenly she feels so hopeless she could cry.

- Kiwi??

Bard blinks a couple of times and turns to Miriam, who is giving them the most concerned look they have ever gotten from her. Winston is hovering behind her, not even trying to conceal his panic.

Miriam steps towards them gingerly.

- Are you okay??

Kiwi draws a breath and tries to straighten himself up.

- I, uh... - they look at their feet, struggling to find any words that would sound at all plausible. But this time, they can hardly even convince themself to brush the overwhelming feeling off as unimportant, as their trained impulse commands.

Miriam takes another step and reaches for them, then freezes. She throws a quick self-conscious glance at Winston, one breath away from shriveling up. Winston seems to take it as a hint.

- Umm, I'll!!.. - he fumbles with his hands for a second before sharply turning around and marching over to the exit without another word, to descend back into the observatory.

Miriam remains frozen in place, stubbornly inspecting the patch of grate floor beneath her feet, until Winston's steps fade away; then throws her head up, looking at Kiwi with a concerned frown.

- What was that??

Bard looks down at the floor, uncertain, as if the needed words were scattered all around it in a chaotic pattern.

Miriam opens her mouth, seemingly preparing to speak again, but no words follow. She stops trying to catch Kiwi's eyes and lowers her own, crossing her arms.

Bard looks up to see her face overshadowed by a disheartened, lonely, distant expression, and feels a tug at their heart. Perhaps... Perhaps it's worth trying to talk about.

They lower themself to the floor, back leaning against the dome, and sigh shakily.

- Do you... do you ever get... scared?..

Miriam looks up, still lost, but apprehensively open.

- Like... in general?

Kiwi looks at their hands resting on top of the knees for a moment, trying to figure out what they are attempting to share.

- Of... the world, I think. Or... the universe... - they cross their arms and hold their shoulders. - How it's... really big.

Miriam's posture loosens and softens. She sits down next to Kiwi, hugging her knees, and looks at them expectantly.

Bard goes on.

- It's alright if there are a lot of people, - they're not sure this makes sense, but it's hard to talk about as it is, so they just let themself continue, - 'cause then together, you are something big enough? But if it's just you..., - they feel their mouth go dry and their body tense up with adrenaline, the vivid, unraveling sensations of the recent nights creeping up from the back of their mind. They swallow, hard, and grip their shoulders.

Miriam is silent for a good while.

- ...It's not, though, is it? Just you?..

Kiwi looks over to see her staring in front of herself with a concentrated, contemplative frown. Her words are coming out labored and strained, like she is unhappy with having to actually say them out loud.

Miriam's head sinks into her shoulders, just slightly, and her fists clench, before she speaks again, sounding almost fearful to assume:

- We're figuring it out together?..

Bard feels a crack at their heart, stinging and painful, breaking them away from the deep cold despair that's been filling it with steady certainty. They never meant to imply that Miriam's friendship is anything other than cherished, and comforting in every possible way.

- We are! - their smile comes out pensive, but somehow rejuvenating still, just like the fresh crack in their chest. He leans against Miriam's shoulder. - It's just.. - they take a second, trying to nail down the core of the overwhelming feeling that's been haunting them for the last couple of weeks, - what if we weren't?..

It's surprisingly hard to articulate what exactly is making Kiwi freeze with terror every night. This weird incessant pull, somewhere out of life, as if some part of them is trailing behind, threatening to bring them down with it, to drown them. Like some immeasurable weight their limbs are getting too numb to carry, slowing them down, making their legs give off, while everything else effortlessly speeds forward. They cannot find any context or explanation for it – not one they are ready to face, anyway. All they have is this overwhelming, overpowering, incomprehensible fear. What if they get left behind?

Miriam sits with the idea, silently. Her expression is difficult to read, but for a moment, Kiwi seems to catch a glisten in her eyes, and feels immeasurably guilty. They don't get to express their concern, though, before Miriam speaks up again.

- I... do get scared, - she takes a deeper breath, - of... being alone. Again. But I'm not. - The last words come out almost stubborn, like Miriam is arguing with a naysayer. - Things are changing, right?.. It... doesn't have to be the same.

Kiwi holds that thought: “Doesn't have to be the same”. They try to take comfort in it. A distant, neglected part of their heart aches and squirms at it, like a disturbed wound.

Doesn't matter. This can change. Everything else is.

The two sit in silence for a while, shoulder to shoulder, each rocked by their own waves of chilling thoughts. But – Bard has to remind themself – not alone. They are not alone.

- The stars are really cool, - they say quietly, with a small, meek smile. Miriam looks at them, glum and questioning. - You should try the telescope!

- ...Nah, - their friend replies after a moment of contemplation. - Whatever. - She rocks back and forth a couple of times in uncertainty before carefully suggesting: - ...Wanna go back inside?

Bard nods slowly.

- Maybe... in a moment?

Miriam wordlessly settles back in. Kiwi closes their eyes and leans heavier into the touch, focusing fully on the warmth of their friend's arm against their own, holding onto that feeling with everything they have.

They bring the telescope inside with them, already dismantled, and pack it into layers upon layers of protective wrapping with Winston's help. It is then hoisted up on Miriam's broom as she floats a couple of feet above ground, testing out if it would be possible to carry the instrument on her own.

Miriam slowly lowers the telescope to the ground and hops off.

- Should be fine?? - she says nervously, which does not at all reassure the sweaty and frantic novice astronomer. Winston gives her a shaky smile, nonetheless.

- Great! - he croaks out and rushes to change the subject. - Um!! If you're not in a hurry, Peter is coming over soon?? I thought it... might be good... - he trails off, looking at his guests in a silent plea to interpret the rest of the sentence on their own.

Bard and Miriam exchange glances. Bard certainly is not itching to go back to their Mom's... parents', home, and his friend does not seem to, either. Kiwi looks back at Winston and nods excitedly.

- Sounds great!! 🎶

Peter shows up about half an hour later, bringing his balalaika and, quite unexpectedly, a fruit basket. As Kiwi tries to process the dissonance between his ever-melancholic demeanor and the colorful bow on the basket's handle, Peter seems to be processing the presence of anyone but Winston at their meeting place. It doesn't take him too long, though. He silently hands Winston the gift, then turns to greet the two ex-co-saboteurs.

He shares a mutually awkward but overall amicable handshake with Miriam, then moves on to Bard and startles them once again, by putting a hand on their shoulder and sighing meaningfully.

- It is good to not be the only person of musical nature around here, - he shares. - I'm sure you are familiar with the longing.

- Sure! - Kiwi chirps out with a smile, not even trying to parse this.

The four of them settle down at the center of the large domed room, right on the floor, and Berry excitedly joins them, curling up between Winston and Miriam. The group passes the fruit basket around and shares the news from the last couple of months.

- Chismest is a changed place, - Peter shares solemnly while pulling apart a peeled orange. - People are no longer weighed down by the chains of numbing, thankless labour. We are finding joy in communal connection and personal power, once again. The need for manufacturable happiness substitutes is no more.

- Cool! - Bard looks at the small fuzzy kiwi fruit in their palms and considers the implications of eating it. - Langtree is sort of haunted now!

Winston produces a vague high-pitched sound in reaction to that, like a choking questioning laugh.

- Well, there were ghosts there before, - Bard readily elaborates, - because they were worried about their families before the... – a cold wave of terror washes over their heart, once again, at the thought of the end of their old universe, and they gulp, as subtly as they can, -...the world almost ending. And they did return to the Spirit World, at the end, but we can contact them through the songs they've left behind! And some of them just visit on their own. Mary always follows Woody around, so I guess... it's Woody who is sort of haunted now?

The room is silent, for a bit. Miriam absentmindedly nods along to the familiar story while picking berries out of her hand, and Winston and Peter are processing the mound of new information. At last, Peter nods wistfully.

- The world is healing at large, - he pronounces, chewing on an orange slice. - People are finding more ways to forge unbreakable bonds with those they meet and those they've lost. It fills me with great hope. I had to express it in a song, - he throws a somber, mournful look around the room, - it is in B major.

Peter strikes the first chord on his balalaika and closes his eyes, swaying slowly back and forth. Kiwi feels the familiar fizzy excitement of a life performance bubble up in her chest – along with a slight prick of jealousy: he never did get around to learning any instrument.

Peter continues his playing, the sound climbing up and up, reaching for some beautiful, exhilarating future that now, for the first time in many long years, seems to be just around the corner. The energy is moving and contagious, the waving melody pushing Kiwi's heart closer and closer to this sensation of unbounded hopeful anticipation with every strike against the strings.

Peter starts harmonizing, his melancholic voice blending with the movement of the music in paradoxical, enchanting ways. Winston joins in, his voice high and nervous, but bustling with genuine restless joy. For a while, it is just the two of them, singing their hopes and prayers for what tomorrow brings. They share a glance and smile at each other, a brief, shy moment.

Miriam, who's been nodding off for a while, is swaying softly to the rise and fall of the symphony with her eyes closed, hugging her knees. Then, there is a soft, unexpected sound as she quietly joins the harmonies, her voice gentle and raspy, as if she is simply muttering in her sleep. There is a small, hesitating smile on her face, lurking behind the hair falling in front of it, but visible enough from where Kiwi is sitting.

Miriam opens her eyes, leaving them half-lidded; her voice grows slightly louder. She looks over at Bard – and stops, the now so familiar confused, vaguely concerned frown setting in.

The sudden interruption on her part draws the attention of the other two, and now the whole room is looking at where Bard is sitting, back straight, extremely tense and hyper-aware of not having sung a single note.

There is a moment of deafening, unnerving silence as Peter stops playing.

Kiwi feels short of air.

They must look really pathetic, because the next moment, the music picks up again, mercifully, although without the same sort of blissful absorption. Winston and Peter return to singing between the two of them, as if conjuring an invisible screen for Miriam and Bard to communicate on the other side of. Miriam continues looking at Kiwi, concern growing deeper, grumpier.

Bard casts their eyes down and takes a shaky breath.

There is shuffling next to them, and suddenly they feel Miriam's hand on their own. They meet her questioning look once again, but she promptly averts her eyes, already feeling awkward. Instead, she squeezes their palm harder, passing on a bit of a reassurance.

They sit in silence for a while, one hand holding another firmly, until the song passes the bridge and returns to the final repetition of the chorus. Bard looks up at Miriam, and she looks at them. They find silent agreement in each other's eyes, and just as the first note of the chorus is about to break, they draw a synchronized breath and join in.

Bard's voice is quiet and unsure, and so is Miriam's, and there is comfort in that. It feels like mutual acknowledgment of something Kiwi isn't quite ready to put into words. And it's different from the high-spirited call of the song, but it belongs. And with every note shared in a low-key, tentative voice between the two, Bard feels a bit more secure.

The melody draws the two of them in once again, gradually and insistently, and at the end of the chorus, their voices sound firmer, brighter, conceiving of the same reassuring promise. The final note rings in the air, and the company shares a moment of sweet, comfortable, inspired silence. Then, without a word, Peter strikes the strings again.

The second time around, all four of them sing from start to end. Kiwi gives Miriam a grateful, timid smile. They settle into a comfortable volume, audible but private enough. There is still a slight tremor to it, and from time to time, it tumbles down, missing the high upbeat note. But Bard tries to find relief in the comfortable unity the group is sharing, and the others seem willing to accommodate. Through all the self-consciousness and hesitation, and the deep underlying fear of what it means to struggle with something so natural, Bard tries to focus on the swelling of the music, and lets it carry them wherever it wishes.

The door to the Observatory opens in the middle of the song, letting in the cold night air and Elara, looking tired but distinctly happy. She lingers at the entrance, taking the sound in, then slips past the group into her room, as quietly as she can - but leaves the door just slightly ajar.

Here and now, everything is alright.

***

It's like being dragged on a hook wedged deep into your heart. Your tired, aching heart, endlessly bleeding out into the nothingness around you.

The world is twirling in a symphony of color and sound, somewhere else, somewhere ahead, somewhere that exists. Somewhere with space to soar through in its triumphant spiraling dance.

It is a state you can never reach again. You are expulsed, empty, broken. The world chose light and movement. It chose to leave you far behind. The weight of you was never significant enough to make it reconsider its trajectory.

You were never significant enough to stay around for.

It's a cruel joke, to still sense it, constantly, hurled through space and time you are left on the outside of. The proverbial hook sits firmly in your beating flesh. Every turn of the unfathomable planet indulging in its endless dance out of sight, out of any conception to your lost, isolated mind, is another tug on your pulsing wound. Each of them reminds you of the life that goes on without you.

The elusive, torturous link drags you along, like an endless drawing punishment. You resent it for leading you on. Why keep any illusion of connection when you have already been severed, irredeemably, tossed aside like a rotten part threatening the whole? Why tether you to the existence that is no longer yours, if not to take sick pleasure in giving you false hope, and watch you agonize over every movement of the vital dance far beyond?

Life is malicious. It did not simply choose to leave you behind. It decided to never let you forget.

You're not giving it the satisfaction of making you hope. It will have to learn that you were never foolish enough to believe, even for a moment, that you are not alone.

***

Kiwi wakes up with a start and bolts upwards, hand at their chest, gripping the fabric of their pajamas. They are short of breath. Again.

Desperately wading through the panic flooding their brain, they attempt a breath, waiting for the tightness in their chest to soften and recede, bit by bit, letting her steady her heartbeat. Once they can fill their lungs again, they breathe in, deep, and pull their knees up to their chest to hide their face in.

The panic fades, leaving them one on one with the dull, isolating desperation. It sits at the center of their being, patient, waiting for them to turn their attention to it. And Kiwi tries his very best not to, but it's there, time after time.

They look up to where Miriam is asleep on the opposite end of the couch, her knees tucked up to her torso. She looks grumpy, even now – perhaps because Bard had straightened their legs in their sleep, again, not leaving her with much space to get comfortable. Or it might be the blanket that has fallen to the floor, leaving her open to the chilly atmosphere of a Chismest night.

Kiwi slides off the couch, as lightly and quietly as she can, and walks over to the fuzzy woven quilt. They pick it up and hold it in their hands for a moment. It's about as old as them, and worn, and the hastily mended patches look glaringly out of place even in the heavily dispersed light. Bard covers Miriam, as slowly and gently as possible, and hopes the threadbare blanket is enough to keep her warm.

They shrivel and hug themself, staying still for a moment, in the dark and quiet. Or... partial quiet. From their, parents', room, they can hear the quiet cooing that immediately transports them to their childhood, and the many sleepless nights spent with Mom peacefully dozing behind the closed door. Tonight, she is joined by deep, mighty sighs and an occasional cough, uncannily close to jingling chimes. Kiwi isn't sure they will be able to fall asleep again, with the new addition disrupting the more familiar ambiance.

She looks over her shoulder, to the window, behind which the colorful flowers are gently bobbing their heads in the quiet wind. That is familiar, at least. A splotch of color in the dark northern night, as she stands alone, barefoot, cold, feeling inexplicably lonely.

Bard leans into the familiar sensation of rough floorboards under their soles as they quietly make their way to the window. He climbs up onto the chair pushed against it and gently presses his hand against the frame. It opens, letting a gust of crisp fresh air in. Bard takes a deep breath, hoping the night chill sobers them up, soothes them, yanks them out of this quicksand of weird, confusing feelings.

The night tastes so disorientingly different. Breathing is easier than it has ever been around these parts, with the once ever-present tint of soot gone and all but forgotten. The air is pure and sweet, and the flowers blooming in it are shining brighter than ever.

Bard looks at them with distant eyes, feeling herself sink deeper into the sand. Their defiant colors used to be a source of greatest comfort. The many nights spent at the window, leaning onto the ceiling and looking out, endlessly waiting, passed easier with the company of the resilient blooms, still joyful and bright in this cold, suffocating place. When the flowers responded to Kiwi's song with a play of color, a new nightly routine took root. Bard barely thought about the wait, anymore. It was about the shimmering petals, the glow in the dark night saturated with smog, and the promise of greener pastures somewhere far away. It was a promise of a different place, full of sun and nature and song, where the world would respond to the melody of their heart.

Chismest is that place, now. Its own brand of it, and definitely falling behind Langtree when it came to daytime hours, but renewed, and welcoming, and singing. A redeemed and reclaimed environment, no longer poisoning all life it gives home to. And the flowers at their Mother's windowsill seem to celebrate that with every fiber, unfolding proudly and happily to drink in the fresh clean air. The world has changed for the better, and they healed alongside it, naturally, as its inalienable part.

...Can Bard still do the same?

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Just a simple song. One sweet song to share with their long-term friends, to join in on the celebration.

Bard exhales a note, low and soft as to not wake Miriam up, feeling around for the melody they sang not so long ago: Peter's new piece. Just as earlier, they are stumbling over the notes, which feel clumsy and wrong in their chest, like a puzzle piece that is being forced into a misshapen hole. But perhaps, that is okay, Bard reassures themself. It doesn't have to be perfect. It has always been enough to just sing from their heart.

They open one eye, fearfully, their face scrunched up into an apprehensive cringe.

The color does not shift even a shade. Notes fall flat onto the petals, not one of them moved even in the slightest.

Bard lets the song die away once their breath is exhausted. They look at the flowers, endlessly lost, searching for any hint of an answer. What had to even happen to take something so natural away from them? What could they possibly have lost?..

Something scary crawls up to the forefront of his mind, replacing the vaguely panicked confusion with a feeling of cold doom. He could try singing differently. He could sound the notes that have been ringing in his ear the past weeks.

Kiwi breathes deep. Singing the song would mean... something. Something big. It almost feels like on the other side of it, they might stop recognizing themself. But... if this is the only one they have left--

Over on the couch, Miriam grumbles in her sleep and fusses under the blanket, disturbed by the cold night air. Kiwi hurriedly pushes the window shut. Their friend settles a few seconds later, burrowing deeper under the warm cover.

Bard sighs and throws one final dejected glance at the unresponsive flowers on the other side of the glass. They curl up in the chair and hold themself tight for the rest of the night.

#wandersong #kiwi wandersong #the bard wandersong #there are also #miriam wandersong #winston wandersong #peter wandersong #elara wandersong #and co : )#(not) alone #my writing

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clairebear1298 · 5 years ago

Text

Guys. I actually contributed something for the Fluff Crawlspace. Like, on time. This might be the greatest achievement of my life.

Thank you to @nerdforestgirl for keeping this fandom alive. Hope you all enjoy

It was 8:52 p.m.

That meant it was two minutes past his regularly scheduled bathroom time. That meant he had yet to urinate before preparing for bed. That meant that currently his bladder was ready to burst at the seams, causing him to pace uncontrollably around his small bedroom as he waited for his wife to finish with whatever mysterious womanly things she did in the evenings.

He tried to be patient. Really, he did. He understood that was a key part to a successful marriage, to tolerate your spouse’s annoying quirks even when they drove you to the brink of insanity. For the sake of love or something. But this was rapidly turning into a life or death situation, and a man can only take so much.

Knock, knock, knock. “Amy.”

“Hold on, Sheldon. Just give me a minute.”

But the last time Amy had told him “just a minute” it hadn’t been just a minute. In fact, it had been nearly three minutes. Sheldon wasn’t sure if he had three minutes.

It was now 8:54. Sheldon had six minutes before his and Amy’s mutual bedtime, between which he had to use the toilet, brush his teeth, floss, and check his body for abnormal growths. He was left no choice but to do the unthinkable, to put his marriage to the test and hope it was strong enough to withstand it.

He needed to urinate in the presence of his wife.

“Amy, I’m coming in.” And with that he turned the handle and barged through. He barely glanced at Amy as he moved to the toilet, and he was just about to lower his pajamas and destroy any lingering sense of mystery to their relationship when he realized what Amy was doing, which was… nothing.

Well, technically speaking it wasn’t nothing. It was physically impossible to do nothing. But it seemed that she had barely even registered him entering, She was sitting on the lip of the bathtub, her curls fanning over her face as she gazed unseeingly into her lap, hands clutching at her nightgown.

Bathroom emergencies forgotten, Sheldon cautiously approached the inert shell that looked a whole lot like his wife. “Amy?”

Life seemed to whip back into her as she snapped up to meet her husband’s eyes. “Sorry, what?”

Sheldon could practically feel the worry etching itself into his face. “Are you okay?”

Amy opened her mouth to reply, but just as quickly closed it again. She stared at him long and hard, a look that Sheldon recognized from months and years of watching her do science. She was weighing her options, going through every possible outcome in her head before making a decision.

Then at last, with shaking hands Amy smoothed out her nightgown and lifted the object hidden in its folds: long, white, plastic, and just about the most terrifying thing Sheldon had encountered in his life.

“I’m ten days late,” Amy said quietly.

The shock of it all rooted Sheldon’s feet to the spot, his eyes never leaving the pregnancy test in Amy’s hand. They hadn’t planned this. Talked about it, sure, but life still hadn’t settled down after their Nobel win, all the interviews and photoshoots and conferences and lectures and... children haven’t been a thought in his brain yet. They were always a part of their future, but that’s where they’ve always remained- in the future. There was never a time that felt truly, unequivocally right to start trying for a baby, and it sure as holy heck didn’t feel that way now.

“Sheldon, please say something.”

Her words brought him back to the present, the harsh, harsh reality that was now staring him in the face. He felt his legs shuffle himself forward, and he slowly lowered himself beside her on the tub before they had the chance to give themselves out from under him. “What does it say?”

“I don’t know yet, we have to wait five minutes for the result.” Amy took a deep, steadying breath. “I know this is unexpected, and our lives are crazy right now, but... I really want this.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Amy’s gaze fluttered down to her lap again, and when she spoke again it was barely above a whisper. “I just turned forty last month. I don’t know how much longer we can wait for this.”

Sheldon hadn’t considered that. Amy had always been so willing to wait for him to be ready to move forward, but he had failed to realize that biology wouldn’t be so patient.

Sheldon’s gaze returned to the test, mercifully turned over so it wouldn’t taunt them with the looming news that could change their lives forever. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

Amy looked at him, and the returning fear in her eyes made Sheldon wish he hadn’t said anything. “Do you still want children?”

“Of course I do. But...” A million thoughts crashed into his head at once, of diapers and sleepless nights and screaming matches at three in the morning. “I think I was always so focused on the end result that I never considered the process it takes to get there. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Amy stared at him for a long moment before rising from her seat, gently placing the test on the bathroom sink, and turning back to extend a hand out to him. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

Sheldon took her hand without hesitation, and Amy led him to their bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed. Then she pulled out her laptop and opened up a document before handing it over to him.

Sheldon was having trouble computing what was in front of him. “Is this a... spreadsheet?”

“Yes,” Amy answered like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I started it not long after you asked me out.”

It was possibly the most beautiful thing Sheldon had ever laid eyes on. Each slot had a different subject to be addressed- childbirth, diapers, sleep schedule, illnesses, among others- followed by a slew of potential solutions to mitigate each concern. And it didn’t stop at infancy. Amy had accounted for every stage of their child’s life, from elementary school bullies to teenage backtalk.

“Sheldon.” He felt a hand cover his own. “I know this is scary, and I’m scared, too. But I want you to know that with any challenges you might encounter in raising a child, I’ll be here to help you through it. And you’ll be here to help me. We’re in this together.”

Sheldon’s gaze shifted to above their headboard, where their Nobel medals hung proudly in joint frames on the wall. A physical reminder that together, the two of them could achieve anything they set their minds to.

Sheldon turned back to his wife. His beautiful, amazing, brilliant wife. He reached a hand up to tuck a short, stray curl behind her ear, another change that he had initially resisted but slowly grew to love as much as every other part of her. “Okay.”

Amy drew in a breath, eyes lighting up with hope. “Okay?”

“Okay.” His hand moved to gently hold her cheek. “Even if the test is negative, we can start trying. I guess there never really is a ‘right time’ for this sort of thing. There’s always going to be something in the way. I may never be completely ready to have children, but I’ll always be ready to start on a new adventure with you.”

“Oh, Sheldon-” but she was interrupted by a sharp beeping from her watch. After silencing it, she turned back to him as her jitters returned full force. “It’s time.”

Together they stood and, hands still entwined, walked back into the bathroom. They took a moment to stare at the white stick on the sink, to savor what was perhaps their final moment in this stage of their lives. Then they approached the sink and each grabbed one end of the stick, giving each other one last look before turning it over.

“Wait, I can’t tell if there’s something there or not.”

“Two lines means positive, right?”

“I thought it was a plus sign.”

“Well, what brand is the test?”

“Hang on, let me get the box.”

“Do you know how many times Penny’s taken one of these? We have three doctorates between us, we shouldn’t be having an issue.”

“Okay, for this brand we’re looking for a plus sign.”

“Do you see anything?”

“I’m not sure. I might see something, but I also might not.”

“How can you both see and not see something? Is this Schroedinger’s pregnancy test?”

“Wait, wait, wait, I think the line’s getting darker!”

“Really?”

“Yes! It’s a plus sign, it’s definitely a plus sign!”

“Oh, Amy.” Sheldon crushed her against him, wrapping around her tightly, burying his face in her hair. He would’ve never expected it, but he was so, so happy. More than he’d ever been in his life. He was going to be a father. Amy was going to be a mother. They were going to have a baby.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He felt a dampness on his shoulder where Amy’s head was, but he didn’t even care. Nothing could break this moment between them. Nothing whatsoever.

Well, except...

“Amy?”

“Mhmm?”

“Please leave now. I need to use the restroom.”

#shamy fanfic #shamy fanfiction #my fic #shamy #the fluff crawlspace #otp: what we have is extremely intimate

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cal-puddies · 5 years ago

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meet fletch || pt 6 || ashton irwin

meet fletch || pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3 || pt 4 || pt 5 || pt 6

Cal looks over at you in the car. “You ok?”

“Yeah… I knew it’d be possible… but I didn’t think he’d do this to me.” You sigh.

Cal rests his hand on your thigh, and he lets you sit in silence awhile. Even when you get back to his house, he lets you be. He doesn’t know what you need right now because he doesn’t know you that well.

But he’s happy when you seek him out. He’s out back with Duke and a beer.

“Sorry.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m really not sure what for.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Shutting down. It just… caught me off guard, what Fletch said.”

“Remember he’s six, and he has no idea how that sounded to you. But also, it’s ok. People need time to process.” He chuckles.

“I know, but everything with us is both new and potentially temporary. I hate that I wasted that time even if it was just a couple hours.”

“Please don’t think of this as temporary. I know it’s easy too but I’m already thinking of ways to stay in you and Fletch’s lives.” Cal murmurs.

“Cal.” You say pulling away.

“It’s not ideal. And I know you’ll go back to Aus and it will make this infinitely more difficult. But I dunno. You’re worth it.” He shrugs.

You cling a little tighter to him and he takes you to bed.

Something feels a little off the next morning. It’s not Cal, but you can’t pinpoint it, so you have to go about your day.

Cal takes you home and says he’ll come by later for dinner. You do some laundry and a little bit of packing, since the end of the trip is coming up. And then hit up the grocery store and sit down to do some work before Calum comes over.

You check your phone in the late afternoon and there’s a text from Ash.

-fletch seems to be having a bad day

-not everyday is puppies and rainbows with a six year old. What’s going on?

-he’s having a tantrum about eating :(

That gets you worried, Fletch loves to eat.

-is he running a fever?

-dont think so. Kay Kay checked it earlier said she thought it was normal.

-ok. Great. Can YOU check it and let me know?

-Kay Kay is actually really good with him… 36.5 c

-I don’t give a fuck if she’s the best ever. You’re his father. That’s normal. Ask him what’s wrong? You suggest before turning your phone over to get work done.

You don’t check it again until after you and Cal have dinner, and are chatting over a glass of wine when it starts ringing incessantly. You finally pick it up and see that it’s Ash.

“Hey ash. Everything ok?” You ask, making eye contact with Calum.

“Fletch is having a meltdown and just screaming about how he wants his mom. I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t want anything to do with me so we’re on the way over.” He informs you and you can hear fletch screaming in the background.

“Ok… we’ll see ya soon, I guess.” You shrug and hang up. “Fletch wants me.” You tell Cal.

“Should I go?” He asks.

“I don’t think so. Not yet anyway.”

You can hear them coming when they get there. Fletch is still screaming all the way down the hall. “We’re almost there fletch. You will see your mom.” You hear Ashton outside the door. You set the wine down and wait for ash to open the door.

“Momma.” Fletch sniffles, coming over to you.

You pick him up and stroke the back of his head. “Hi bubba. What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I thought you left me because i said I wanted to see dad more and momma I don’t want you to go.” He blubbers.

“Bubba.” You coo, “I couldn’t leave without you. You’re my baby, what would I do without you.”

“Please don’t leave.” He clings to you tightly.

“I wouldn’t Fletch. Or you’d know and understand why and how long before I did. I’m not leaving you, baby.” You assure him.

“We can go home momma, we don’t have to stay. Just don’t leave.” He cries harder.

“Ohh… Fletch I need you to calm down bubba. We’ll figure out whether we’re gonna stay or go, but we’ll be together still.”

You notice Ash is unmoved from near the door and Cal is kind of admiring you a moment.

“I’m gonna go.” He comes by and whispers.

“What? Why?” you ask.

“You two need time together.” He kisses your cheek. “We’ll have time for the three of us soon.” You turn and look for for his lips, and he finally presses his to yours. “I’ll talk to you later. Night Fletch, hope you feel better bud.”

Fletch huffs out a “bye uncle cal.”

“You ok bubba?” You ask, after he’s calmed down considerably.

“Can I stay with you?” He sniffles.

“Yeah bubba, you’ve always been able to stay with me.” You continue to hold him, walking around a little bit, trying to soothe him. You look to Ash, “did you bring any of his stuff?”

“No. I don’t even know why…. he just started screaming for you and I… panicked and brought him to you.” He wipes a hand over his face. You can tell looking at Ash that today had’t’ve been a hard day, he looks worn. You nod.

“Baby, why don’t we get you in some pjs and we’ll snuggle up on the couch with dad and watch a movie before bed?”

“Ok.” He sniffles.

You luckily kept a few extra things for Fletch, and you let him get changed. He’s obviously tired when you head back out to the living room. Ash is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

Fletch waits for you to sit and he sits right next to you, leaning into you. He taps ash and holds his hand out, ash looks and grabs it, and then grabs the remote. He lets out a breath you recognize as stress right after he turns the tv on.

“What do you wanna watch, bubba?” He asks Fletch.

Fletch looks up at you, “he asked you bubba, not me.” You chuckle.

He only gets a quarter of the way into the movie before he’s asleep. You get about halfway through before you pick him up and put him in your bed.

Ash has turned the movie off and is looking for something else. “Sorry I ruined your night.” He says quietly, watching you sit.

“It’s ok.” You shrug. “Not every day is fun and easy. It’s good you got to see that. Sometimes plans get ruined because the kid comes first.”

“What did you do if something like that happened? There’s no one else to take him too.”

“He’s usually just tired, but since I haven’t been with him, I don’t know what the issue is.” You admit.

“This hasn’t been easy, has it?” Ash asks, looking you over.

“Ha. He told me the other night that he wanted to live here with you and kay Kay and grandma and aunt Lauren would visit him here and I’ll tell ya what… broke my fuckin heart.” You sigh.

“Yeah, Cal mentioned that when he was over earlier.” Ash nods.

“I just don’t think you understand this.” You shake your head, getting up to clean up after you and Cal. “It’s fun for you right? Because you’re getting to know each other and he’s at a super fun age. He has personality and he’s discovering how things work, and he’s curious. But you weren’t there for the hard stuff, when he was a baby and colicky and I was the only one around to take care of him, or figuring out how to go to school and work and still be there for him and get him daycare. Or figuring out how to feed him and also myself, buy diapers… and don’t even say if I would have told you…” you warn.

“I know. I think it was an easy choice for you, and I can’t even say what I would have done if I was in your shoes because I never could be… but I’m here now and I know I didn’t know what to do tonight and truthfully I don’t think I’ve been following his schedule because I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” He tries to explain, “but I want to know. I want to be able to handle this.” He sighs, “I told you I wanted to be apart of this and that means the good and the bad. Not just with him but you too.” Ash gets up and puts himself in front of you, “but you gotta stop heading me off all the time. I’m cool with whatever you and Cal are up to. I just want you to know I’m here and I wanna help you out and here would be easier but if it’s not right for you then we’ll work it out at home.” He shrugs, resting his hands on your shoulders. “I just need to learn. You didn’t inherently know how to do all of this.” He points out.

“No, I didn’t. You’re right.” You nod. “It’s hard to let someone else in on this though.” You shrug.

“Have you given any more thought to being here? I can help you find a job, you can stay here. I don’t use this place. We can find a great school for Fletch.” He gently tightens his hands. “Please, I just want a more permanent part of his life. And once you’re comfortable with the idea… I wanna be able to tell people he’s mine.”

“For the sake of honesty… my company does have an offer out for me to stay.” You murmur.

“No fucking way.” Ash looks excited, he pulls you in and squeezes your body against his. “I could be in Fletch’s life! What does Cal think? What do you think?”

“Cal thinks I need to do what’s best for fletch and I.” You shrug. “I’m still undecided… though Fletch’s little plea to stay with dad wasn’t my favorite.” You admit.

He sighs, drops his hands. “What is it? Why are you so reluctant? Just let me help. Let me be apart of your lives.”

“You don’t get to just walk in and make decisions Ash! None of this has really been on my terms. I’m constantly giving because you’ve somehow made me feel guilty and the bad guy because I put you first, like I always have.” You're exasperated and you know you need to get away from him. You grab your phone and step out on the balcony, closing the door behind you to make it clear that Ash shouldn’t follow you.

You check your phone for texts and you have one from Cal.

-hope things are going ok and he sent a picture of duke.

You reply with a sad face and your phone is immediately ringing. “Hey.” You say.

“Ya ok, little one?” Cal asks, immediate concern.

“Just getting into it with Ash again.” You shrug. “What are you up to?” You check.

“We’re just watching some Tv before bed.” Cal starts.

Ash peaks his head out the door, “maybe I should go.” He says.

“Of course! Why not? That’s the easy thing to do.” You retort.

“He’s asleep. You don’t want to talk to me…” he defends.

“Ash you have to give me some fucking time ok? I’ve never had to co parent or deal with another adults feelings about things when it comes to fletch, I need some fucking time to process shit.”

He sighs and he realizes, yeah, that’s probably right. “Ok. I’ll be inside.” He shrugs.

“Don’t you need to get home to kay Kay anyway?” You roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t matter right now.” He says simply, shutting the door.

You hold the phone back to your ear and sigh. “Want me to come back by?” Cal asks. “Sounds like you might need a buffer.”

“Nah. No reason to put you in this. I probably just need to get it off my chest.” You sigh, letting your head roll back.

“Ok. Well I wanna see you tomorrow.”

“I wanna see ya too.” You grin a little.

“Have a good night little one.” He says.

“You too Cal.”

You sit outside a little longer to let yourself cool down and then you get to your feet and go back inside. Ash has made himself comfortable, his shoes are off and he’d taken his jacket off finally.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

“No… you were right. It’s a change for all of us and we all need to be patient with each other.” He’s just as quiet.

“You said the right thing you know, about not going home to kay Kay right now.”

“I told you I want him in my life and I have to make him a priority.” He nods. “And I have to keep in mind that you need to adjust too, but having him means including you, and taking into consideration your feelings on things. I’ll stay the night. I’ll be here in the morning if he wants to come back home with me.” He shrugs.

“We just gotta keep talking to each other. I can’t read your mind anymore than you can read mine.”

You end up asleep on the couch with Ash, when you wake up you don’t remember if you fell asleep at opposite ends but you sure as shit woke up at the same end, his arms tucked around you. You push away and stare at him, “what the hell irwin.” You groan. You get up and walk back to the room to check on fletch. He’s just playing by himself on the bed. “Hey Fletch, how ya feeling bubby?” You ask.

“I feel better, mom.” He reaches his arms out for a hug and you give him one. “We should talk bubba.” You say, getting up to close the door. “You really wanna stay here?”

“I wanna be close to dad.”

“Ok but you wanna leave your friends and your school, and grandma?”

“Grandma can visit, dad said so.”

“Fletch this is a really big decision, and I’m glad you wanna tell me how you feel about it, but you know I still have to do what’s right for us, right?”

“Ok mom.” He nods. “Am I going back to dads today?”

“That’s up to you. Dads still here if you wanna go back home with him.”

“What are you doing today?” He asks.

“I was gonna see Calum.” You shrug.

“Could I spend time with you today?” He asks, his curious eyes meet yours, and it’s a little surreal because Ash used to look at you that way. “And I can go to dad’s later?”

“Of course, my love. Calum will wait.”

“He can come too. I haven’t spent a lot of time with uncle Cal.”

“Are you sure bubba?” You check and he nods. “Ok little monkey, why don’t you go tell dad what your plan is.”

You follow him back out to the living room and he’d climbed on the couch with Ashton, who was holding him. “Of course you should spend the day with your mom. I know she misses you.” He whispers loudly to Fletch and kisses the top of his head. Fletch whispers something you can’t hear back and Ashton looks at him in disbelief, “I can never be mad about that bubba.” He assures him. “I love you Fletch.”

“I love you too dad.”

You grin. “Ash can you stay so I can get a quick shower?” You ask.

“Yep. Maybe we’ll go out and get breakfast to bring back.”

Fletch’s eyes light up, “mama loves pancakes!”

“I know. We should get her some.” Ash agrees.

“Alright well if dads gonna take you to get breakfast, we need to get you cleaned up.” You clap, and Fletch jumps right up. Ash helps him in the bathroom, wash his face and brush his teeth. You text Cal and let him know that you’ll be spending the day with Fletch and he was invited.

He easily agrees and invites you over to his so Fletch could play with Duke if he wanted.

When you get out of the shower you can hear the boys are back. “Hey dad? Do you think mom likes Calum?”

“I do bud. I think she likes him a lot… help me set the table, Fletch.” Ash asks, handing him the plates.

“Will that make you sad?”

“No. Mom deserves to be happy and there isn’t anyone better in the world than you and uncle Cal.”

“Do I like uncle Cal?” Fletch asks.

“You get to make up your own mind on that. I like uncle Cal. He’s my best friend.” Ash explains, and you decide to spare him and come out dressed.

“Mama!” Fletch smiles at you, “we got you pancakes!” He’s beaming.

“Thanks love.” You smile and kiss him.

Taglist: @cocktail-calum @1dthewantedlove @september09241994 @youngblood199456 @lustingforwunder @calumsphile @neso-k @rosecoloredash @radmcqueen @justayoungandwisefangirl @itsnotmyblood @slimthicccal @softboycal @lietoash @pushthetide21 @5sosfanficrec @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @therealmrshale

gc tags: @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @angelbabylu @aspiringwildfire @irwinkitten @lashtoncurls @myloverboyash @singt0mecalum

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

#cass #5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #meet fletch #dad!ashton #sfw #requests #requested #requests are open #daddy ashton #but cal

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bytheangell · 5 years ago

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This is the Coda that Never Ends... Part 11

(Read on AO3) (Start at the beginning!)

The moment he spots Clary outside the Institute, Underhill does his best not to panic.

He fails almost immediately.

This is not good. This is very, very not good, and there isn’t a single Shadowhunter inside the building with him who knows exactly what’s going on with Clary’s recent developments. Okay, technically none of them know exactly what’s going on, but at least Isabelle, Jace, and Simon have an idea. But this is a secret, and he can’t exactly turn to the nearest Shadowhunter and go ‘hey I need help with Clary because she remembers us sort of’ without potentially getting the others, Alec and Magnus included, in a world of trouble.

Clary paces towards the door, but stops and turns back around again, buying him a little more time. What he needs is someone who can stop her before she tries to get inside. Someone who can get here almost instantaneously.

...someone like a warlock, who can knock her out and make her forget ever being here today.

Underhill takes out his phone and tries to call Magnus. It’s a number he has for emergencies, if he desperately needs to contact Alec but can’t reach him. He isn’t sure this qualifies as a true emergency - but he’s the only person who’s in the know enough to help just then. His hopes soar when he hears the sound of Magnus’ voice only to plummet again a moment later.

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Magnus Bane. I can almost promise you I would rather be taking this call than at whatever boring meeting I’m stuck in, but--”

“Shit,” Andrew clicks the prerecorded message off, having forgotten all about the meeting both he and Alec were in just then. He’s about to go down there himself when he sees two other Shadowhunters on camera coming down the street and back towards the Institute. He doesn’t know how much she can see but he can’t chance her seeing them… he can’t gamble on whatever reaction the rest of the Shadowhunters at the institute might have if they find out she’s here again. He hates to think it, but their lives were a lot quieter in the Pre- and Post-Clarissa Fairchild periods, and he’s willing to bet there are a lot of people here who would rather things remain that way.

He’s out of options. He doesn’t have time to run his decision by Izzy first and can only hope he isn’t making a huge mistake. “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission…” he mutters to himself as the phone rings twice before someone picks up on the other end.

“Andrew? Aren’t you at--”

“There’s no time,” Andrew cuts his boyfriend off. “I need you to portal outside the Institute right now and stop Clary from coming in.”

Andrew’s eyes are glued to the screen as the two Shadowhunters round the corner, spot Clary, but continue around her assuming she can’t see them. His heartbeat races with every passing second, watching Clary’s head turn to look at them, the way her eyes widen at the doors opening in front of her.

She can see them. She can see the building.

“Clary?” Lorenzo repeats, clearly confused, but there’s no time to explain.

“Please,” Andrew begs. “I need you to trust me.”

It’s a lot to ask. They’ve been dating for a year, since Magnus and Alec’s wedding, but it was very casual for the first few months. Their schedules rarely aligned what with all of Lorenzo’s duties and appointments as the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but there was a notable shift a few months back when things started to feel a lot more serious. They talked more - not just small talk, but about the politics of their worlds, the impact their relationship might have on their personal lives, should things keep progressing the way they were.

It hasn’t been perfect, but they’re still together, and that alone speaks volumes. But what he’s asking Lorenzo to do, with no guidelines or proper explanation, is a risk. Filling him in after he shows up (if he shows up) is a risk. He’s asking the High Warlock to show up at an Institute and stop someone who used to be a Shadowhunter.

On the monitor Clary makes it up two of the stairs before she stops, leaning over with her head in her hands.

The phone goes silent, and for a moment Andrew is convinced he overstepped, asking a favor too large and crossing a line by abusing his personal connection with Lorenzo.

But then he sees it. The shimmer on the screen in front of him just a few feet behind Clary, the glow of a portal opening up that allows Andrew to release the breath he didn’t notice he held caught in his chest until that moment of relief. Lorenzo came. Andrew stays in the surveillance room just long enough to see Lorenzo come up behind Clary, place a hand on her shoulder, and then catch her as she falls backwards, limp, before he’s activating his speed rune and making his way outside.

As relieved as he is to see Lorenzo, it isn’t half as relieved as Lorenzo is to see him.

“Oh good, you’re actually here. I was starting to think this was some elaborate set-up, some ridiculous Shadowhunter test of regulations or loyalties.” Lorenzo attempts to free a hand enough to wave dismissively, but he’s still supporting an entirely unconscious Clary. Speaking of… “I hope this is alright, dear,” Lorenzo says, the casual endearment sliding out with no one around to overhear. They have a very strict rule of professional courtesy around any other Shadowhunters or Warlocks, but the coast is clear and it’s nice to hear during his moment of panic. “You didn’t exactly provide me with a plan and she appeared to be in a great deal of pain.”

“It’s fine,” Andrew reassures him, despite the fact that none of this is actually fine. “Thank you for coming.” The implied thank you for trusting me what he actually wants to say, but that’s a conversation he doesn’t have time for just then.

“Shall we take her inside, then?” Lorenzo asks, shifting his weight uncomfortably beneath her, but stops at the violent shake of Andrew’s head.

“No! I can’t let her in, she’s technically a mundane now. She shouldn’t even know this place exists, if I let her see the inside…” Andrew is still shaking his head as he pulls his phone back out of his pocket and dials a new number.

“Isabelle? Nothings… okay, something’s wrong, but it’s under control. Mostly.” He frowns at the phone. “Clary came to the Institute.” Another pause. “She tried to come in but I called Lo- Mr. Rey to come knock her out, uh, gently.”

Lorenzo looks like he’s losing patience by the second.

“Of course I tried Magnus first,” Andrew starts, shooting an apologetic look at Lorenzo, who he knows will definitely take that knowledge personally. “He and Alec are in that meeting in Alicante, there wasn’t time for anyone else to get here. Listen, we can debate this all you want later, but right now I have the High Warlock of Brooklyn holding an unconscious Clary Fairchild outside of the New York Institute, and we can’t very well bring her inside so what would you like me to do with her?” His exasperation seems to get the point across and he only pauses a few seconds to get an answer before nodding. “Understood, we’ll meet you there.”

Andrew hangs up the phone and meets the curious expression on Lorenzo’s face. “We?”

“Unless you’re going to make me carry an unconscious teenager through the streets of New York to Bane’s old Loft,” Underhill says, leaving the option open.

“I don’t know. Sure you don’t want to call Magnus up to ask first?” Lorenzo counters.

“You know I would’ve called you first if it were up to me. But no one was supposed to know about Clary, not yet.” If Andrew thinks this is going to make things better, he’s very mistaken.

“I dislike Shadowhunters keeping secrets that impact the entire Shadow World even more than I dislike coming in second-choice to Bane,” Lorenzo points out, his words more tense than Andrew is used to hearing when it’s just the two of them. Fuck. Despite the fact that Lorenzo gets along much better with Magnus, Alec, and the rest of the Shadowhunters ever since their trip to Edom, there are still some lingering rivalries between him and the other Warlock, and more than a few deep rooted trust issues regarding the Shadowhunters in general. Turns out a year of goodwill isn’t enough to undo centuries of systematic oppression and prejudice, not that Andrew blames him.

But this? This certainly isn’t helping.

“However,” Lorenzo continues, looking from Andrew to Clary. “I believe I’m owed an explanation at this juncture, so I suppose we best get going.” Another portal opens up, and Lorenzo motions for him to go through first. The fact that Lorenzo doesn’t leave him to fend for himself is a good sign, no matter what motivations he plays the action off under.

Stepping through the portal Andrew is immediately caught off-guard by the artwork everywhere. He forgot all about Clary’s exhibition pieces until just then - apparently Magnus, or one of the others, had brought them all here. Lorenzo is equally thrown off by the paintings and sculptures, eyeing them critically as he walks Clary to the nearby sofa and places her gently down.

Andrew makes his way over to one of the paintings, followed by Lorenzo, though neither of them directly address the other right away. Andrew isn’t positive where he stands right now, and whether Lorenzo’s comment back at the Institute was more of mild annoyance or something heavier.

“I didn’t know Bane took such a sudden liking to modern abstract art…” Lorenzo muses, and Andrew is about to explain when they both freeze at the sound of footsteps through a portal opening behind them.

“That’s Lightwood-Bane, Rey,” Magnus says. “And I haven’t. Not that Biscuit’s art isn’t lovely, but I certainly don’t want to cover my apartment with renditions of Edom.”

They follow Magnus’ gaze to a painting in heavy reds, oranges, and dark browns. Andrew doesn’t recognize it but feels Lorenzo tense beside him.

“I told you he’d tell Lorenzo,” Magnus half-whispers to Alec after he steps through the portal beside Magnus, loud enough that he knows everyone will hear.

“Don’t worry, tried to he call you first,” Lorenzo says, bristling slightly. “And he hasn’t spilled anything yet. I seem to remember another occasion in the not-too-distant past where the Shadowhunters kept a key piece of Shadow World intel from you while you were the High Warlock. Remind me how that played out for everybody?”

To Andrew’s surprise instead of stepping forward to confront Lorenzo’s accusatory statement, Alec actually flinches at the memory. “There was nothing to keep from you. We didn’t know anything… we still don’t, not really.” Andrew listens as Alec takes full responsibility for the decision to keep this quiet, even though he knows for a fact the majority of it is Isabelle’s call discounting the fact that they all played a role in keeping it quiet.

“Somebody in this room seems to know plenty,” Lorenzo observes, looking from the paintings to the unconscious girl on the sofa. “Plenty that she shouldn’t.”

“I didn’t want to create a panic over nothing. It’s only been a day and I told them not to tell anyone until we had something solid to report.” Andrew sees what Alec is doing, trying to shoulder the burden of the order given so that Lorenzo might forgive Andrew a little easier for his role in all of this, and while Andrew appreciates it he isn’t sure it’s going to work. He flashes Alec a grateful smile from where he stands slightly behind Lorenzo.

Thankfully, Lorenzo isn’t the type to start something here. This is a discussion they’ll have later, without a doubt; for now they have business to attend to.

“Wonderful. It’s only been a day and you already needed my assistance. Clearly this grand mystery of yours is in wonderful hands.” Lorenzo sighs, but turns back to Alec and Magnus expectantly. “Is anybody going to actually enlighten me as to what’s going on here, or are we just going to keep dancing around the fact that you hadn’t planned on telling me if you didn’t need my help?”

“I’ll fill you in, and make us drinks” Magnus says, walking over and leading Lorenzo off towards the kitchen. “But Alexander wasn’t lying, we really don’t know the extent of things yet…” their voices trail away, leaving only Alec and Underhill left in the living room with Clary.

“I’m sorry, Alec. Magnus didn’t answer, and I don’t have Loss’s number, and-”

Alec waves a dismissive hand. “You made the right call. There’s a reason we trust you with these sorts of things, Underhill. You do what’s right, and you do what you have to. Those two are probably already over their flash of old rivalries,” Alec points out, glancing briefly back towards the kitchen. “And I’m sorry I put you in that position in the first place.”

Underhill shrugs. “It’s my own fault, really. Ever since I covered for you at the bar that night, it seems as if my job duties expanded to ‘Secret Keeper’.” There’s no bitterness in his tone, however, and the small smile that accompanies the statement comes with a light laugh. He’s glad Alec trusts him. He’s glad they’re friends, despite the trouble it brings sometimes, and doesn’t regret the trouble of being a part-time confidant of the Inquisitor for one second.

Alec laughs as well.

“Drinks for the Shadowhunters?” Magnus calls from the kitchen, and Andrew almost agrees before he remembers why he’s here in the first place.

“No, I’m on dut--shit, I’m on duty.” In the rush of getting Clary away from the Institute and somewhere safe, and then the bit of drama with Lorenzo, he nearly forgot all about what he was doing when all of that went down.

Lorenzo and Magnus come back out into the living area and Andrew bites down on his lower lip as he looks at his boyfriend, wondering if he should chance asking him for another favor while he’s clearly upset with him.

He doesn’t have to ask - Lorenzo sighs, resigned, and a moment later there’s a portal opened up just behind Andrew. “Get back to work, dear. We can talk after your shift.”

Andrew smiles at that, knowing the ‘dear’ is definitely a good sign. “Thank you. Good luck with…” Andrew trails off, sparing one last glance at Clary, before vanishing through the portal and back to the front of the Institute.

So much for staying out of the worst of it. At least it’s out of his hands for now. The rest of his shift is quiet and when he texts Lorenzo afterward he doesn’t get a reply - whether he’s busy, or ignoring him, or already asleep, Andrew can’t tell, but he embraces the excuse to collapse into bed instead, pushing it off to deal with tomorrow. He’s had more than enough excitement for one day and has the sinking suspicion this might be one of the last nights of good sleep he’ll get for quite some time.

#underhill #lorenzo rey #magnus bane #clary fray #shadowhunters #andrew underhill #reyhill #I LOVE THEM AND I DIDN"T MEAN TO MAKE THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE HERE ~DRAMA #BUT HERE WE ARE #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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superbpersonwolf · 4 years ago

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The Marketing wins

8 substance advertising speedy successes that will help your business

For the unenlightened, content advertising speedy successes are not especially simple to stop by. It will in general be more about the long game, consistently sustaining a group of people while reproducing reliability and brand acknowledgment.

All things considered, as each advertiser knows, now and again the tension builds from no place and you need a snappy success. You might be dispatching another item rapidly or reacting to a pattern. Or on the other hand perhaps you're simply beginning and need to make your essence felt.

Whichever way you may end up going after a snappy win from your substance advertising. That is fine. Simply recall – it's not an opportunity to toss your substance system out the window.

Try not to be enticed to feel that perhaps life can generally be this way – discarding the arranging and rather getting up each day and bringing a heap of leads as though by wizardry. Lamentably that is not actually the way content promoting, or life, works.

In the event that you've recently begun a substance showcasing procedure, be set up to confront a daunting struggle and swim through boggy waters for some time. It will take three to a half year or maybe more before you begin to see the advantage of your substance, especially if it's evergreen and SEO centered composition.

Frequently you'll normally encounter a substance showcasing speedy win toward the beginning of your methodology. Normally, the best thoughts are focused on first, and when that substance arrived on friendly you likely encountered some humble achievement.

Following a 24-hour cycle however, it will have dropped off a bluff and afterward the possibility of composing heaps of substance around long tail catchphrases, reliably creating drawing in video and connecting with your crowd each day begins to occur to on you.

At the point when you think back following a half year and begin to see the SEO advantage in your natural references I guarantee there will be a warm inclination. Yet, that can feel a way off.

So for when you do require a pick-me-upper – here's a couple of tips for a lift.

8 substance showcasing fast successes

#1 Blog more

Alright so this won't feel like a speedy win. In any case, I ensure that when most advertisers (or individuals answerable for the promoting) can't help thinking about why they aren't seeing any footing this is on the grounds that their last blog entry was over a fortnight prior.

Furthermore, therefore, they haven't posted anything of significant worth on LinkedIn for a fortnight. Or on the other hand Twitter or Facebook or Instagram or whichever social stage bodes well for your business. That is the point at which they begin to look for content advertising fast successes.

Submit more to your substance schedule or creation plan. In case you're an independent company, it's elusive the time. However, until you ensure you're delivering content that is focused at the crowd you need to reach on a reliable premise, you're not going to accomplish a lot of beside having a couple of blog entries a few recordings to look good.

So return to the planning phase and conceptualize what content you will create over a three to half year time frame and focus on it. I appreciate this won't feel like a speedy win. In any case, in any event, delivering content for seven days you'll begin to see gains. Take it from that point.

I'm not going to go over the way toward conceptualizing content presently, however do the trick to say it relies upon what your objectives are and what area you are working in. In the event that you as of now have a procedure set up that includes focusing on long tail catchphrases with composed substance, focus on the substance that you think will biggestly affect social.

#2 Harness the UGC directly before you

What could be a speedier substance showcasing snappy win than having individuals make content for you. For nothing.

We're encircled by client produced content we scarcely contact yet each one of those surveys, web-based media posts and pictures you've been sent have esteem. Repackage them on your site into a page of tributes – individuals are significantly less prone to purchase with no audits to investigate, so present them in a simple to discover place.

On the off chance that you have an after on Instagram repacking ongoing posts others have made about your image (especially in case you're B2C). Screen capture their posts and gather them into a story for a simple piece of commitment.

#3 Give something away free of charge

Presumably the substance advertising speedy win that accompanies the greatest assurance of accomplishment – everyone prefers free stuff. Particularly in the event that it accompanies worth and its helpful.

Part with your insight

The most well-known technique is that you compose, record or film something helpful for your intended interest group. Viably you're parting with your insight. This will most likely be in your procedure in any case since it's a major piece of everyone's substance advertising ethos.

All things considered, you're most likely keeping something down. Something you're covertly trusting individuals will come and purchase from you that you're prodding them with. Consider parting with it – or possibly think about a way you could possibly.

For instance, you work in a B2B climate and you're a specialist in law. You've recently gone through years assembling your GDPR information and you view yourself as a specialist.

You've been contributing to a blog for quite a long time about the GDPR entanglements and cautioning signs. Presently it's an ideal opportunity to guide your LinkedIn crowd precisely about it, or if nothing else a component of it. Try not to be reluctant to give something free of charge. Individuals will in any case purchase from you.

Run an opposition

On the off chance that your business is more item than administration orientated, you may need to move into rivalry region to scrounge up interest rapidly.

Think cautiously however – however the automatic response may be to just part with your item, does that truly serve your advantage best? How does that find as you would prefer to new crowds?

All things being equal, search for organizations that share the sort of crowd you pine for yet you don't normally rival. Would you be able to collaborate and give something for them to part with as a trade off for the equivalent?

That way you're running a similar rivalry yet viably with twice the crowd. Utilize these connections for your potential benefit and ensure they backlink to your site.

#4 Use the information readily available

Take a gander at the information you hang on your area or your clients. Does it recount a story? On the off chance that you don't hold that sort of information – would you be able to go out and get it? What worth may it hold in PR?

This probably won't be the best model given the size of the association being referred to yet it shows the point. A report by the Pensions and Lifetime Savings Association found that individuals basically were not setting aside sufficient cash for retirement any longer. Looking back it's news esteem is clear and a decent PR will have presumably guided the report toward that path. Yet, it shows the worth that the PLSA (an exchange body) has on it's individuals – and it's offered an incentive to those individuals by catapulting the issue into the public press.

What number of more individuals will currently move a stage along the way to improving benefits, or focusing on saving more because of the inclusion?

#5 Identify the holes in the purchaser venture

This substance showcasing fast win can be deciphered severally. First glance at your substance yield. What is it focused on? Is there a phase in the purchasing venture that you haven't recognized or focused on yet?

For instance – you sell running coaches. A great deal of your substance is pointed toward getting individuals to redesign their mentors. What about "How to recognize when your mentors don't fit any more?".

Or then again, "how to know whether your mentors are giving you a physical issue". Or then again perhaps you ought to focus on a phase later in the cycle – "The most well known shading coaches the stars will be wearing in 2019".

Presently, this is as yet focused on SEO – however the advantages of doing this routinely can't be overlooked. In case you're criminological about it, you'll distinguish a purchasing venture opening that will presumably be a hit with your crowd on friendly.

#6 Upgrade your substance

Inside, you should take a gander at your site's client experience. Where would you be able to embed substance to make the excursion more joyful? Use Google Analytics to recognize your leave pages. For amateurs, that is here:

Where are your most elevated leave pages? What would you be able to do on those leave pages to stop individuals leaving? Is the substance too slender on those pages? Does it need more substance to persuade individuals regarding your item's quality? Similarly, which greeting pages are failing to meet expectations? How might you make more crowd on these pages to pull in more crowd? What substance would you be able to make that connects to those pages?

In case you're utilizing WordPress there's a convenient module called Yoast which will naturally stack in your page and post pages in WordPress, and give you bit by bit directions on improving the SEO of those pages.

Here and there the exhortation will be 'compose more substance' – which may be actually what you need to hear. Why bother doing all that rich substance advertising if when individuals come to purchase from you they discover your site ailing in data and mastery?

From a specialized angle (moving into unadulterated SEO now) it could merit utilizing a crawler program like Screaming Frog, which will investigate everywhere of your site searching for SEO issues and encourage you on the most proficient method to battle them.

#7 Combine your substance

In the event that you have slender substance on your webpage (let's be honest, those 500-word sites you took out in 2014 aren't glancing so beautiful in your investigation currently are they?) at that point it very well may be an ideal opportunity to get freed or consolidate it.

Believe it or not – erasing ineffectively performing substance will frequently help your Google game. In the event that Google spots flimsy substance on your site it's probably going to downsize your site in search.

Nonetheless, those 300 magnificently made words need not go to squander. Does it fit with another theme you've covered or supplement something different you've expounded on? Do you have a few pieces that look somewhat light

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thecoroutfitters · 6 years ago

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I has been delayed this morning simply by One hour. They are the procrastinators that need concentrates on to www.unt.edu hold prompted. Just about the most widespread your woman sorted because deadliners. I’ve tried trance, meditation, notes, etcetera. Bring a magazine, call someone a person haven’t talked to in a while, or perhaps check out your current agenda for a few days. People normally understand multiple lateness individuality. Even so, if someone else is definitely past due, lifestyle the remainder military hang on giving you, simply just so they might take; but while they could hesitate along with skip chow, meals is part to your Affiliate marketer.

When you’re late, an individual decrease the value of your own manufacturer. “Well of course only were being an important purchaser this might donrrrt you have occurred in the first place.” And so your woman kept as well as worked out the condition causing us to be Six min’s later for that planned visit. In the Army (in almost any side branch to become much more precise) tardiness is unacceptable, and so due to being https://www.mei.edu/experts/abbas-assi on moment is important. There isn’t need to present suggestions about ways to perform occasion, since everybody knows tips on how to be on moment. Below you’ll uncover Six methods for currently being timely. Accomplish this: Every time your companion is definitely overdue by simply 15 minutes or more, the lady will pay for delicacy. “well you are in this article now, that’s what matters” he / she responded happily.

Why Perform Moment? We have witnessed an abundance of a few things i have been dying to complete me personally i always include omitted connected with to the penalties associated with no one nonetheless my family. I didn’t desire to stroke the idea within, so I only reported, “Here are generally all of our cards” and also handed down on them but she recognized she’d neglected these but we all in no way gave a talk of the usb ports. Any time you don’t display on time, you’re causing your friends to complete your job and unique. In its place, come with an truthful discussion – just before you’re totally frustrated – and a few guidelines. Distractibility is believed to get a genetic time frame and might include full-blown add for you to not liable flakiness.

We are Cydcor, a accepted chief within contracted gross sales companies situated in Agoura Hillsides, Ohio. In case you show up missed by way of Ten mins to at least one issue plus 30 minutes to a different one, the main problem is probably technical. Knowing the potential side effects regarding lateness as well as tardiness, it is crucial with regard to solutions to end up being implemented. With today’s world locating a new job is not really always easy. doubts i’d viewed this particular sooner thanks just for this & a person’s information on how to quit stalling & the reason it occurs. Does this kind of happen to you every morning? Is definitely “Do stop overdue to college!” or perhaps “You are usually overdue all over again!” everything you hear from friends and family and also instructors? Next, writing a strong essay on getting late will probably be a very useful work for anyone.

Liability is a good feature to have nonetheless it merely is sold with punctuality. THE UNTHINKABLE! The single thing your lover always belittled me personally for! Standard excuses, you name it. We didn’t neglect everything crucial, and if there was a celebration important I would not have already been. Just one knight remaining overdue will make the particular program completely disturbed. Should your employer possibly there is, overlook the marketing. Nino School with Bamban Included thinks about a person late if the student occurs after the hunt marriage ceremony (Star trek online Nino School regarding Bamban Involved Scholar Information 2017-2018).

In instance you continue to require reasons why you should perform time, allow me to share Several major models: To find out how the item believes. It will be your work to go by the actual requests of those hired previously mentioned a person if they will be legitimate and also meaningful. I had lotto tickets to your Oscars two years uninterruptedly. This allows other individuals to plan the daily activities correctly. You have to be timely within all you could conduct.

Usually apologizing/making justifications – I’m often apologizing as past due to someone. In addition, it will make you efficient to try to get ambitions when they are shown to an individual. believe inspiring feelings in my situation. Punctuality teaches you are responsible, genuine which enable it to comply with information. You point out stuff has been around the mind but didn’t be aware how you can communicate.

Change Your thinking About Currently being Early. A lot of people think that those who find themselves vital maintain people waiting. For that reason, becoming early on can be a sign that certain isn’t crucial. And no one desires to feel immaterial. On the other hand, currently being beginning is really a manifestation of organization, having admire persons, and having good time management knowledge. That are common personality connected with essential people today. Keep telling your self, “Important folks are timely.”

When You’re And not on Time frame, You’re Stealing: When time is actually funds, and then by simply showing up a few minutes late you’ve merely stolen something worthwhile from your body else, that isn’t a powerful way to get started just about any crucial small business mediation. Another person feels like they’ve presently provided some thing, thus they’re not seeing that prone to give you more.

Indicates which you recognition your promises and you can now become trusted

Be Wanting to Wait. People ordinarily don’t try to be early on given that they think enough time that they spend watching for some others can be wasted time period. That is certainly, they like being missed in lieu of acquiring while relaxing. The important thing to help alleviating this particular problem is going to be ready to have got to hang on. Hanging around moment doesn’t must be lost moment. When you get there beginning for a client’s household, most likely the carer at the move previous to your own house may have the perfect time to offer you an revise, as well as in addition supply you with a buffer of their time to get your elements in the home by using another health professional present.

“Punctual persons do not BPE critical review essays understand. Most people reverence lateness for a modest and pardonable offense and infrequently yield to help events blatantly past due, ready for another party to easily forgive these folks. Are you an staff exactly who valuations standing on time frame? Enroll in our team! Zero reward.

There exists full in addition to did not reach the record which in turn genuinely indicates you can not established limitations at the job, which equals small self-esteem, and also worse, not any knowledge of your individual restricts. You can find incapable of carrying out the particular survey therefore you put it off. Irrrve never shown interest in stick to anybody on facebook at my everyday living. The Absent-Minded Teacher is definitely diverted.

If you proceed, the actual apology will be worthless. Simply just “being about time” will just bring so many good out-puts, through obtaining the campaign to your director, so that you can forming a much better Armed service. The client reacted together with. couldn’t prevent thinking about it.. For those who avoid your time prudently; you could certainly not get your investment back.

I am certain that you can imagine what happened future. I personally collection Several alerts today 5:30AM but appeared intended for work on On the lookout for:40AM(Ten minutes overdue). As well, celebrate people reputable to defend myself against ambitions should they be offered to you. When you find yourself late to help whatever, jewel a creation and also scheduled appointment, it is going from nearly all of all these prices that happen to be instilled in just about all members of the military. In event you continue to need reasons to be on time frame, here i will discuss 6 big people: Eating habits study Tardiness Nakpodia & Dafiaghor (This year’s) pointed out that lateness or even tardiness is not only the challenge in the past due pupil but it surely has an effect on surrounding people.

from Patriot Prepper Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. Are you ready for any situation? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

#SHTF #TEOTWAWKI #MARTIALLAW #BUGOUT #PREPPERBAG #USAF #USSOCOM #ARMY #NAVY #SurvivalFirestarter #Sur

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domaindomaindomain · 8 years ago

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your son

an open letter to my mother.

You have never acknowledged the fact that you were abusive to me because I am transgender. It is painfully obvious that you will continue to deny and whitewash that part of your parenting, that you will respond with sarcasm or self-deprecation each time I mention it, that you will invalidate the experience that I had at your own hands.

You say that if I begin to speak about a truth you’ve never had the strength to acknowledge, you’ll hang up the phone.

Fine. I never needed to hear the click on the other end of the line when the call dropped because I can barely wait to hit the end button myself, cycling self-hate hovering the thumb over the red light. You don't hear how I scream in anger, how bitter you have made me, when you set your phone down on the kitchen table.

I felt so sick this Mother’s Day.

Your words.

“

I am a horrible mother. I bet you hate me. You’re right, I’m the worst person in the world. What else do you want, my blood?

“

But you already have mine, years of it, on your conscience, that you refuse to admit even to yourself.

Material goods are not love.

I am your son. Are you my mother?

No matter how you viewed me.

I was your son when I was six and I felt out of step with the girls in my Kindergarten group, missing preschool where the boys didn’t push me out and where masculinity is unthought of and unknown.

I was your son in that unsmiling California portrait photo, me sitting in the tree in Del Mar, when I was nine years old. I look at it every time we eat dinner, and I think of how I wish I could have known then. How much easier it would be for me now.

I was your son when you bought me my first bikini. I looked at the fat around my thighs and hips and contemplated killing myself. How much easier it would have been, than to deal with the future.

I was your son those days you picked me up from school in eighth grade and you could tell I had a crush on a French boy that I would never explicitly tell you about.

I was your son when you made me wear a dress at my Communion.

I was your son when you made me wear a dress and heeled sandals at my Confirmation.

I was your son when I decided to leave the Church. I have never regretted leaving your beliefs behind me.

When I was eleven years old, looking at my shoulders in the mirror and wondering why they did not broaden like the other boys’ in my class.

When I stopped wearing dresses in the Ninth grade.

When I vomited in the bathroom, every day, after each meal, careful not to let any drops hit the floor, six years long.

When I was fourteen and Dad threw me across the room. It doesn’t matter how you think it happened - it matters that I felt this happen, that I know it did. I hit the floor more softly than I expected. I was more scared than I expected. You stood by him, every step of the way. He was wrong. You were wrong. I could never trust you again.

When I hit the floor. I was your son when I stopped brushing and washing my hair that winter, stopped grooming my eyebrows, stopped telling you all my problems.

In Tenth grade, when my queer best friend and I decided that our potential was not worth the pain of continued existence, not worth the comments from our peers or the silence from our parents. We walked to the bridge, then out to the middle. We could see the Hudson Valley for miles, that grey-green mix of sea- and fresh-water swirling below us, unstoppable. This was not the first attempt. It would not be the last.

I was your son when I cried every morning in the back seat of our car on the way to school.

I was your son when I threw up in the bathroom during math class, when I brought three grape tomatoes, half a stalk of celery, and five broccoli florets with a liter of water for lunch.

I was your son when I told you I was, when I told you I had an eating disorder, when I told you I wanted to kill myself, all in one night during Winter Break of Ninth Grade at a school you paid far too much for, for a kid who isn’t worth it.

I was your son, each time you left and said you weren’t coming back.

I was your son, every time you accused me of faking my mental illness for attention, every time you withheld my anxiety medication because I needed to ‘sit and calm down’ instead, because it wasn’t bad enough, didn’t meet your imaginary criteria for ‘panic attack', every time you opened your mouth to scream at the dinner table, every time you refused to comfort me, though you were my only source.

Each time you say my former name. Each time you say ‘she’. Each time you say ‘he’ by accident, and swiftly correct yourself. Every single time you brought me into the women’s department, every time you told me I would always be your daughter, never your son, every time you left me alone, ignored me, while you could hear me sobbing, dissociating in my room, choking on my own self-hatred.

I was your son when I learned that I owed you nothing, now that you had let this happen to me.

You are trying. I recognize that. But what can trying do, in the face of years and years of trauma that you will never assume responsibility for? The above, a thousand times over? Years upon years of psychic battery, emotional abuse that completely altered my worldview and left me unable to trust even those closest to me to have my best interests in mind?

Assume responsibility for your actions. This is the rest of my life.

I’m sick of pretending you did nothing. I’m sick of you hanging up on me when I mention the fact that you and Dad caused me years of suffering, suicide attempts in the double digits, lifelong trauma, chronic disordered eating, abandonment issues, complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, chronic depression, social and generalized anxiety, and various connected health and academic issues.

I’m sick of you removing my ability to choose, reducing my agency in every arena. I get to choose who I would like to speak to. I am not, and have never been, obligated to speak with you on your schedule. I am not, and should never be, obligated to share information that I would like to keep private.

My grades suffer because my health suffers. My health suffers because my mind is knee deep in the mire of six years of being trans, being somebody’s son they never asked for, having my identity pushed to the wayside for your benefit, suffering for your comfort, because you can’t stand to know my chosen name, only ‘Lee’, because anything else is too far away from a name that I will never be able to shrug off.

Every time you say “my daughter” instead of “my son” to your friends, it gives me another reason not to answer the phone.

Every time you use a name that isn’t mine to describe me, I have another reason not to text back.

The responsibility for this does not lie with me, but with you.

I have every right to want to limit our conversations after my experiences.

A parent’s duty is to support their child. An adoptive parent’s duty can be much more deliberate, much more deeply considered and chosen than a biological parent. You chose me; rain or shine, better or worse, girl, boy, or anything else I may be, I’m your child. You worked hard to adopt me. Please don’t lose me.

#cw sui id #cw sui #cw trauma ment #cw abuse ment

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years ago

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 28)

The Trader’s Guild was a combination administration building, bank, trading post, and training center, set inside a tree smaller than the Tree of Life but even more heavily and blatantly guarded, Watchers, their animals, and surveillance birds everywhere you turned.

Compared to the hot springs, it was all business: Fae walked about briskly and with purpose; Shinies and other commodities changed hands constantly; and though cracking a joke wasn’t exactly illegal, the atmosphere didn’t encourage it, either.

Weiss wandered into the center, looked up at the circular opening in the middle of the floors; instead of being able to see all the way up into the canopy, she found herself getting dizzy by just how many animals, packages, and items were zipping on by through a large series of interconnected cables, guide rope, and streams of magic, like an intricate spider’s web.

Ruby held her steady and coaxed her eyes back to the ground floor.

Weiss thanked her before she put a hand to her head. “How the hell am I supposed to know how to get anywhere here?” she asked as she willed the world to stop spinning.

“Through the information desk!” Penny chirped, pointing to it. “It’s just in front of the Job Board.”

Weiss turned to look, found herself staring up at a three-story tower of desks and public terminals staffed by a small army of uniformed Fae, and behind that, a giant slab of enchanted rock whose surface constantly shifted and changed as job seekers pressed their hands on wanted ads and work notices, signing up for duties and taking on commission work.

“Please tell me I won’t have to use that every time I need a job...” Weiss muttered as she worriedly eyed the scaffolding and the stairs for people to reach the higher postings.

Penny shook her head. “Transactions and communications are mostly through comm-crystal or terminal for centuries now; most of the folks that use the Wall either prefer to use it, or are legally obligated to physically show up to the Guild and sign here, much like yourself.”

“Finding people willing to sign up is the easy part, getting them to actually show up is the hard part,” Ruby added.

“So you’ve got unemployed slackers, too?”

“We call them ‘Moss,’ yeah,” Ruby replied. “Don’t know how anyone’s willing to put up with eating rock bread or meat paste and sleeping in the homeless shelter every single day for the rest of their lives, but they do!”

Weiss snorted. “And here we humans were wondering what sort of magical, wonderful society could be built in a place like this...”

Ruby chuckled. “Yeah, it’s really funny to read some of the things humans think Keepers like me do when I’m not hunting down people! … And a lot of things that are just really messed up!”

Their conversation was interrupted by the PA system booming:

The Fae that had been lounging around in the lobby, hanging about by the indoor cafeteria, or walking about aimlessly all began to trek towards a direction.

Weiss watched them go and turned back to Ruby. “I’m guessing that call was for me, too?”

“Yup!” she replied. “Good luck in there, Weiss,” she said as hugged her goodbye—careful to point her horns away from her face.

“You’re not coming with me...?” Weiss asked as she pulled away.

Ruby shook her head. “Blake needs me as her Spotter for an emergency fishing trip—some animals broke a fish pen, so now the river’s flooded with domestic tuna, and we need to catch them before they wreak havoc on the ecosystem.

“Those guys grow big, and eat even more!”

Blake licked her lips. <Mhmm...~>

Weiss blinked. “Oh… I see...”

“Don’t worry though! Penny’s going to be with you the whole way as your translator!”

Weiss nodded. “Okay. I guess this is goodbye, then...”

“Mhmm—for now, at least~” Ruby smiled and waved. “See you later, Weiss!”

Weiss weakly waved back, before they split up and went their separate ways.

“I'm detecting a dramatic downward shift in your mood levels, Weiss,” Penny said. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing,” Weiss replied. “Let's just get me a job already...”

Just inside the gate, a caravan made of Watchers, Tenders, and other citizens who wanted in on the free fish were organizing and making the final preparations for the trip. As Blake and Ruby stood around and waited for the go signal, they got to talking.

<Hey, Ruby, what was with that back there at the Guild?> Blake asked.

Blake sighed. <Oh, I don’t know—that whole display back there? You couldn't have been any more obvious! I swear, I could hear the all the sighs from the people waiting on you to kiss her.>

Ruby blushed. <Why would I do that?>

<You’re chasing her, aren’t you?>

<What? No!> Ruby shook her head.

<… And then you hold her hand and guide her through the whole of the hot springs because her ‘human sensibilities’ can’t handle public nudity...> Blake said, making air-quotes.

<… And then you cut our time short so she can have it all for herself!>

Ruby scowled, her ears pulling back as she turned around. <Oh, give her a break, won’t you, Blake?!> she yelled, unconsciously lowering her horns towards her. <You of all folks should know what it's like to be the new girl in a city where everyone hates your guts, and Weiss isn't so lucky to be a Fae like us!>

Blake winced, her ears pulled back and her tail darting between her legs.

Ruby sighed, her face expression softening.

Blake's ears and tail stayed down. <Okay, I'm sorry… but just one more question: are you attracted to her?>

<Oh, HELL YES I AM, why wouldn’t I be?> Ruby replied, brightening up immediately. <She's so cute and so great to cuddle with, too—soft, smooth, and squishy-squishy~ Oh, Eluna, I wanted to ask her if I could sleep on her chest so badly!> she said, swooning.

Blake stared at her, her mouth agape and an expression of deep regret on her face. <Didn’t need to know that last part, but I suppose I was asking for it...>

The caravan master called out for everyone to start loading up and rolling out.

<Look, Blake, Weiss is just my friend, okay?> Ruby said as she picked up her scythe. <Just because we’re both gay, and I happen to be super attracted to her doesn’t mean we’re automatically going to be girlfriends.>

she added as she headed up to the front of the train.

Blake stared at her, before she took her post at the last carriage.

<Hey, your Keeper Ruby's friend, right?> one of the other Watchers asked as Blake boarded.

<What of it?> she asked cooly.

<Mind if I ask if all those rumours are true? You know, the ones about her and the new soft-skin being--> they made a sexy animal noise.

Blake sighed as she climbed up to the roof. she replied.

Back at the Guild Hall, Weiss and Penny were standing in a large auditorium, as all the seats had already been claimed, or given away to others more deserving of them in the unofficial pecking order of the Job Gauntlet.

As Weiss understood it, elderly Fae and those that were obviously just looking for a new career out of boredom, financial difficulty, or genuine interest were first; young children and teenagers who were about to embark on their first ever Gauntlet were second; and last were the Moss, a mishmash of different ages, attitudes, and backgrounds unified by the air their lack of a desire to get a job, ever.

As an outsider, Weiss was lumped into that last group.

If it was any consolation, the Guild’s heavily practical attitudes continued here; no one seemed to recognize or care that she was guilty of her father’s expeditions by association, only that she behave and look interested as a presentation started—spoken, written, and with animated cartoons for the illiterates or those with poor comprehension.

The orientation ended with all of the Fae reciting a vow—Penny later translated it as “The Three Truths,” the guiding principles of most of Fae society. As the words, concepts, and historical context were too deep and complex for her to interpret without an hour or so of dedicated processing and cross-referencing the Codex for information she might not be allowed to share with Weiss, the extremely rough, very basic translation came out as this:

I am the World, as the World is I.

I am the Other, as the Other is I.

As the World rises, so We rise; as We rise, so does the World.

These truths we hold in our hearts and our minds, in thought and in deed, in living and in death, now and forever.

Weiss was tempted to say “Praise be,” as those of the Holy Shepherd would, but didn’t.

The presentation ended, and the participants for the Gauntlet were given slips of paper with their schedules, the names of their facilitators and the potential jobs they were being tested for, along with a space for stamps or signatures they needed to get lest they risk a hefty fine, community service, or even imprisonment.

“You are really serious about everyone having a job, aren’t you?” Weiss asked as Penny guided her to her first test.

“Very much so!” Penny replied. “Few Fae are willing to forsake the Three Truths and the laws and practices that they are based on, but as you humans might say, ‘There is no free lunch.’”

Weiss nodded. “So what am I looking at here, anyway?”

“Mostly Maker and Tender positions involving lots of precision work and deft handiwork! Though we understand it doesn’t extend to the whole of your species, humans in Fae society tend to have a reputation as excellent artisans, engineers, and scientists.”

Weiss smirked. “Then this’ll be easy!”

Penny calmly put a hand on her shoulder. “There’s a Fae saying I think is very appropriate right now:

“’All prey are easy kills until you actually try to kill them.’”

#rwby #white rose #the keeper of the grove #fanfic

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lostinafairytaleofchaos · 5 years ago

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Are you tired of hearing about our stories? I have given you glimpses into our journeys and relationship. Today I am feeling very thankful and grateful. As always, I write from my heart. Some of this may be repetitive from previous blogs, my apologies….

♥♥Today I am loving love, a place of peace ♥♥

What a difference makes when you hang in there

We embarked on a friendship, moved on to more, developing an “undefined” relationship. Continuously spending every spare moment with each other. This went on for a couple of months. Where would it lead us?

Neither intending on a romantic relationship in the beginning, merely someone to spend time with and talk to. Not realizing or knowing that after those months of sharing intimate details and very private thoughts, we would end up falling for each other.

Once I became ready for a relationship, thinking it was not possible with him, I contemplated dating others. I couldn’t see passed being with someone else. I felt like I knew him; although I really din’t. On a regular basis we were spending so much time together. How would I fit another man into my life? He had become a constant for me. I longed to see him, I couldn’t wait to touch him, I missed his smell when he was not around. Was he perfect? NO. He came with as many issues, as many as Vogue magazine. Full of emotional and abandonment issues. Fully unpacked luggage, carrying it around for quite some time. His baggage appeared to run a little deeper, in a different manner. I would tease that he was emotionally unavailable, not realizing how deep those wounds were really running. My abandonment issues caused an independent, dissociative, wall building woman, never allowing any man that I was having “relations” with to do anything for me. In my head, I would owe them something, they would hold it over me, own me or control me somehow. Like I was a prostitute. I despised the thought that someone could be or was doing something for me just to hold it over my head or use it as a form of a payback for themselves. If you are not doing it from your heart, don’t do it at all.

Once we were steadily seeing each other, still as an “undefined” couple, mentally I became compelled to self-sabotage this relationship. I overly analyzed his past occurrences; I was obviously insecure about those based on previous discussions. I compared myself to his previous relationships. The lost child in me was in fight or flight mode. Additionally, I was being judgmental towards him. I didn’t agree with his lifestyle prior to me. I didn’t agree with his behaviors that were spewing over into our relationship. I also did not have a right to give him an ultimatum nor did I have a right to dictate who his friends were. Does that ever work out? In my past relationships, I never questioned anything, I should have. I decided because we were “undefined”, I would try not to show emotions if I were upset with him talking about his exes too much. Figuring I wasn’t the one for him and he was still in love with them. I would hide my feelings to the point of shutting down when he mentioned still being friends with many. I spent my sessions talking to my psychologist about concerns. She encouraged honest and open communication and stop self sabotaging. My friends and some family knew I was seeing someone, they didn’t agree with the relationship. My only supporter being my psychologist. She kept telling me to hold on, be patient, don’t compare him to others, he isn’t his past. Remember that we all come with a past, express my concerns. She knew in advance that he was good for me. My psychologist would always ask about us in every session (and still does). My assumptions were eating me alive and the more I found out, the more I doubted the relationship.

We did everything but talk about his feelings for me. This bothered me to the core. Where was this going?

I recall when he received the keys to his house, the first thing he did was give me a key. Insisting on my comfort there. Leaving much of the decorating to me, not wanting me to leave. I was clueless as to what any of this meant.

Then came month four, Hidden is how I felt. Barely anyone knew about me nor our still “undefined” relationship. I considered on numerous occasions yet again, cutting the relationship off. I could not bring myself to do it.

I would look at him and see hope, I saw someone that had hidden love in them, potential, someone that needed to be loved for who they really were and just needed to be themselves in many ways, accepted, much like I needed.

Every day he taught me something new, not just knowledge about politics, the world, history, but about myself. He wasn’t the social person I dreamt about; his schedule made that difficult. My small circle categorized him as being anti-social in fact. They encouraged and insisted on me to dating others. I could not rationalize nor explicate my feelings of love and frustration to them, without sounding happy yet irritated, even confused with the situation. That was such a struggle.

I recall asking him at one point how he felt about me, his response, “I like you a lot”. My thought, “asshole”. I should prepare myself to leave now. I am wasting my time. I have told you my feelings and you just like me a lot? I was on fire.

I had made the choice to be with him, to not date others (not saying he had not done the same).

Devastation hits during the end of the fourth month we discovered he was dealing with a form of blood cancer, polycythemia vera. The illness did not sway my decision to stay with him. I knew in my heart, I loved him. I was not going anywhere. He had accepted my chronic illnesses. I wanted to help him, take this away from him, make his world better. I vowed to never miss a doctor’s appointment. I became very involved with his health. His illness would not be the demise of our relationship, his actions or lack there of would be. I was at least a good friend. I was a great caretaker, it is my nature.

Somewhere during this time period, finally I worked up the courage to express my feelings and the hurt over his statement of “liking me a lot”, holding nothing back, appearing just as a woman would appear, crazy! I clearly did not know where things stood. I don’t do subtle well. I can’t read between the lines. I mastered jumping to conclusions and assumptions. For months, I was the one openly discussing my feelings for him. I was saying “I love you”, “I am in love with you”, receiving absolutely zero reciprocation. Did he not recognize my commitment or did he not want a committed relationship? Maybe he just wanted a companion. That wasn’t for me. I began to pull away some.

I was going out more, hanging out a little bit with some old friends, trying to get my mind off of this “lack of relationship”. I knew where I wanted it to go, was it not getting there fast enough for me? I was wrong to do things I did in many ways. I was rude at times when he was nice. He encouraged me to go out, I told him who I was going with, I told him not to encourage it. I even stayed out a couple of nights. This was absolutely disrespectful, unacceptable, and irresponsible on my part. If the situation were reversed, I would not forgive it. I simply would walk out. I can admit to my faults. I know it was wrong. He didn’t hold it over my head; therefore, again I didn’t feel like he cared. This fueled my fire more. I can have a wild side, I despise it. It is destructive, impulsive, and reckless.

Then one day he said it, he loved me. Soon after he began showing it. From day one of our friendship, every conversation started with “how was your day?” or “how was your night?”, “what are you doing today?”.

This was a different feeling, there was a difference in his actions. Those questions never ceased, he was truly invested in wanting to know how I felt, he cared about my health, he cared about how much sleep I was getting, what I was eating properly, the amount of my activity, my stress levels, my overall well- being, people taking advantage of my time and willingness to help.

He predicted my flares before I could. He identified signs of my fatigue on days I was pushing through. We spend all free time together and honestly never bore of one another, YES, we ask each other. We are both free to have our own time, that is a given. We enjoy each others company.

We have talked about a future together. I can’t imagine a future with another. This relationship began at a slow pace and continues to slowly evolve. Many issues and concerns, I will still admit too. Including overcoming some of his past decisions, those are my issues, not his.

In a recent blog, I wrote about some things that were unsettling to me. What occurred after tolerating the behaviors related to those topics, came a vast amount of communication. Each time I believe I have let them go, there is a mention of an ex. The thoughts and frustrations come flashing back, they are embedded in my head. Each time, they become less and less irritating.

The things I love about him:

I love his snoring when we can sleep in the bed together, it soothes me. I love his smell, I love his breathing, I love how he constantly moves his feet when he is lying down, I love how he always wants to debate (not argue), I laugh it off, it is comical. His lack of understanding as to how intelligent he is. I love that he allows me to try to take care of him, while believing I haven’t a clue as to care for myself. I love that he tolerates my OCD, he laughs at me. He tolerated my paths of taking the long way around everything, because it alleviates my anxiety, it does increase his. I love that he accepts my chaotic mind and thoughts, when he just wants me to relax and be at peace. I love that he understands me or tries and sometimes pretends. I love our communication. We talk things through and work things out. I love that he wants to be a partner. I love that he is tolerant, I love that he is willing to compromises. I love that he loves me. He must by accepting my illnesses, my idiosyncrasies, my Google obsession, short lived hobbies, my attempts at cooking new things and ruining them, my budgeting attempts and lack there of, my emotions from time to time, my being “wanty” and needy for affection. I give him credit for growing throughout this year. He knows my wants and needs. He is becoming more affectionate, more attentive, geez, he pays attention to things I do not even think he is paying attention to now, other things that I may really need him to pay attention to (such as picking where we are going to eat or what we are having for dinner), not so much. He is trying, he is willing to try, he is willing to meet my needs as I am willing to meet his. This is a huge step for us both, to know what it truly feels like to be in a partnership.

Our conversations are hilarious. He makes me laugh so hard. We talk about and think about the dumbest things. If you heard some of them, you would literally believe we were in sane. We are both 90% home bodies, socially selective, kind of opinionated, outspoken, yet reserved, a little conscientious of how others may perceive us, it works. It’s our world. A world we made.

Look at the blessings gained compared to my worries! I have would have lost so much by jumping the fence during my time of skepticism. What if I would have left him for another man? That other man could have even more baggage and may not be as tolerable, patient, understanding, caring, or willing to compromise, communicate, be a true partner.

I am so glad that I continue to listen to my heart and my psychologist. I am glad I have this relationship. It feels healthy. It feels like no other. We can sit and do absolutely nothing and I am content with that. I am happy just to make him happy and he reciprocates. I have my future needs and wants. Who knows where this will lead? For now, I am just looking at our growth over a 14-month period it has it grown. He puts me first. He is not the same man that I worked with in 2010 that appeared angry and irritated, he is not the same man that I saw at that bar in 2013 who was a complete ass, he is not the same man that I began “hanging” out with in October of 2018. He is thoughtful, he is caring, he is in tune with my emotions. He is my best friend, my lover, my partner, my safe haven, my sounding board, my reasoning, my balance, my hope, my love. He is one of the easiest people I have ever lived with in my life. He is easy to be around. Our relationship is not perfect, it is growing. We are watering our garden so to speak.

So many times, we give up on love and go through life thinking that our past relationship failures should determine every relationship we come across. We think every person is the same. We become jaded, angry, insecure, skeptical, question motives. Often never taking a chance to try again, if you see hope, that is really all you need to see. The first time I talked to him, the first time I looked at him, never even thinking about a relationship with him, I saw hope. Little did I know, that hope, would bring me to this point! On the days that I thought about giving up, I also thought about what I would be giving up. I thought about what I could not live without.

So many say the first year is the “honeymoon stage”! NOT….

This first year we have faced misunderstandings, health issues on both sides, my insecurities, involvement and opinions from others, some ups and downs. We did that during those first 6-7 months. I think the “honeymoon stage” is simply bull.

I do live in my own world, openly admitting to it. I also live in reality now. In order to build and maintain a healthy relationship, both parties have to be willing to move forward together, understanding that they must accept changes as they come, whether it be in circumstances or in each other. It is simply two imperfect people learning to love each other the perfect way!

In my opinion, boyfriend/ girlfriend or marriage, if you are going to have that type of love and bond, nothing should change the building bricks. build a solid foundation, if both partners are on the same page the rest of the chapters will be written throughout time….

Don’t be afraid to love after you have been hurt.

Love is above all things the best healer

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Patience, Communication, Acceptance, Overcoming – Finding Hope Are you tired of hearing about our stories? I have given you glimpses into our journeys and relationship.

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braindamageforbeginners · 7 years ago

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Medication

Well, I can’t put it off any more, I have to write about those familiar, controversial Western medical bugaboos, pain medication and psychiatric meds. There are a helluva lot of issues here, and this is almost entirely an opinion/anecdotal piece, since it’s going to be a commentary about opinion (so, an opinion squared?), and I’ll be doing my usual crazed magpie topic-selection of madly going whatever shiny object/joke/whatever is closest to me. A few items to keep in place: modern pain killers are, in the span our species (the proper one, not the drunken Irish bishop’s estimate), brand-spankin’ new - less than 200-ish years old (for comparison, a former roommate of mine grew up in a house that had been in his family for that long)(before anyone gets any images of Kennebunkport, it’s worth noting that we’re talking about a former drinking buddy of mine, which is automatic grounds for disqualification of nobility in most places). Psychiatric drugs are much, much, much newer, especially as readily-available to the general public. Ironically, brain surgery - or trepanning, anyway - is almost as old as our species (so, who’s unnatural now?). And people tend to distrust new things - particularly medically new things (a former classmate was one of the first recipients of a live-organ donation, getting a liver at age four; she said a few fringe religious groups had called her parents with death threats over this)(this sort of thing is why I’m not particularly fond of religion, but I digress)(side-note; it kind of proves that we live in a society completely ruled by rich, old men that no one was up in arms when Viagra came out, even though it enables me to permanently shatter your sense of well-being with four words: Grandpa gettin’ it on)(I apologize for that last joke, that one made even me shudder). And technical/scientifically-oriented humans tend to love new toys, and abuse them.

Which is all a way of saying that I think - medically speaking - after getting over the novelty of all these things and overprescribing them for years, then backing off too much and inadvertently causing a drug abuse pandemic (sort of; I’ve read that the driving factor of the opioid crisis is people with chronic pain issues being under-prescribed or wrongly-prescribed meds, and then, in desperation, turning to more effective-albeit-dangerous things, like oxycontin), I think - and I’m just one severely neurologically-screwed-up individual - that most doctors are coming to think about these things the way they do about alcohol - it’s not for everyone, it’s not always appropriate, but in moderation, it’s healthy for most people. Again, throughout my experiences, I have never - at any point - been completely pain-free (if we include psychological pain) - but I have always been functional (sometimes near-super-functional). Credit where it’s due, I think that’s because I’ve had access to a highly competent, resourceful group of medical practitioners - from the receptionists on up - who weren’t afraid to use every single tool available to them.

The key word in that previous paragraph as it pertains to modern attitudes is “functional.” I could go on forever about how people have a weird hang-up about not using technology to enhance themselves” (again, unless it pertains to our genitals)(again, that’s not some vulgar statement, it’s a further reference to things like Viagra and/or plastic surgery)(not that I’m out of that one either, since I have veneers); we’re still obsessed with Greek games that are “natural.” Meanwhile, the World’s Strongest Man Competition is closer than ever to giving us the Hulk in real-life. Side-note, in case I haven’t mentioned it before; even if you’re completely disinterested in sports, I recommend checking out the World’s Strongest Man. Whilst other sports are obsessed with who can walk faster or swim longer, WSM is more concerned with lifting small cars (this is true) and hauling commercial aircraft. Not that discus throwing doesn’t have a place in modern society (it doesn’t), but if I’m taking bets on who would win in any event other than swimming, a Fiat or Lance Armstrong, I’m sure the Fiat wins. Whereas a Fiat vs Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson in any non-speed related event is a much, much harder call. My point being, we should have a regular, classic Olympics, and an Olympics we’d actually watch in which the only rules are “no killing the competitors, and no horse steroids.” Not because one is clearly more entertaining (although i will admit that’s a strong contender), but because there would be loads of assorted technology and stuff that they’d develop for it. We’d have bionic limbs (I mean, we’re getting there, but not soon enough), replacement clone organs, and better-than-new cartilage alternatives last week if Budweiser invested the sort of sports-sized sponsorship money into related biomedical research (admittedly in rather unorthodox way), and that could help sick people. Or help handicapped people. Or turn handicapped people into the Hulk. I mean, the technology that helped piece my brain back together (neuro/biofeedback) is amazingly more advanced today than it was just 15 years ago (we’ll come back to that shortly).

I mean, where was I? Oh, yes, we’ve always had a weird relationship between enhancement technology and society (better-explored in Carl Elliott’s book, “Better Than Well,”)(Kareem, you need to check this guy out, he got an MD, then got bored/annoyed and got a PhD in philosophy), and being able to enhance your neurological state kind of falls in there, in the sense that a fair number of psych drugs will take you past “normal” and into what Elliot described (based on patient interviews) as “better than well.” Again, based on a few EEGs my brain was functioning better after post-neurosurgery #2 bio/neurofeedback than it was when I went in (this is true), so I’m all for transhumanism. I bring this up because, again, in this broader viewpoint, psychiatric drugs and/or pain killers are part of the discussion,

The greater idea here is that I’m not feeling all the pain I could be from this experience. Well, no. I’m not. And there’s a significant fraction of the populace that has some sort of philosophical problem with that (I have not encountered them personally, but my step-mother does enjoy arguing for the sake of argument/entertainment, and the topics she goes for tend to serve as a sort of general opinion-poll for some of these issues). As she (sort of, maybe, it’s hard to tell) and Master Chief Urgayle would point out, pain is a good motivator. And I wholeheartedly agree. I would not be pestering physicians, social workers, pharmacists, etc. half as much or as effectively as if I were feeling okay. At the same time, there is a point - and this is not a wavy, thin line, this is something everyone will recognize if you ever see it - where pain not only becomes useless, it starts being a direct impediment to survival. After Neurosurgery #1, I blacked out several times from several assorted pain stimuli. In a completely natural scenario, that’s when the saber-toothed cats would’ve overtaken me, and, well, pain is even less helpful when you’re inside something with better teeth than you. Similarly, yeah, I’m not as upset by this whole experience as I could be, because I’m on some very powerful, exotic psych drugs (again, though, this is under direct medical supervision). And that’s essential to my survival; because, if I was doing this completely sober, my only reaction would non-stop vomiting, weeping, and staring out into space, followed by death because I’d forgotten to renew some critical prescription or procedure. So, if you do have friends or family who are chronically depressed (or even just post-partum depressed) and/or anxious and take meds for it, please just treat it as if they have diabetes and are getting and insulin shot. Modern medicine is essentially doing the same thing in both cases - supplementing/controlling a biochemical problem using chemistry.

Speaking of weeping and vomiting, I got a call back from Mad Scientist, who agrees with Senior Warlock in that the latest blip on the MRI is most-likely some sort of treatment side-effect/damage and not a recurrence or metastasis; and, at the same time, given both my history and placement in a clinical trial, very rapid follow-up MRIs were just a reasonably prudent precaution (she mentioned - Great Kraken bless that woman - that she’d be okay, if I weren’t in a trial, sticking with the original two-month schedule; but commended Senior Warlock’s hyper-vigilance on the matter). Which brings up another important reminder to both future-me and future-radiation patients, the list of potential radiation side-effects is lengthy and horrifying and can happen - including showing up on MRIs in weird places - any time post-Hiroshima. Like, I could make it to that 5%, five-year remission, and die at age 90 from necrosis related to radiation (unless I get my wish, and that side-effect guarantees me a slot in BalCo’s Gojira Clinical Trial for the next Olympics)(I’d probably sign up for that one right now even if I was completely healthy, if I’m being honest). Which doesn’t put me out of the woods for this latest little blip, but it will let me sleep slightly easier, which is probably a medical necessity at the moment, given that my current sleep debt is approaching four-digit numbers.

#brain tumor

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escapekihei-blog · 7 years ago

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Escape Games For Those Looking to Get Away From it All

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The utilization of flash and digital graphics provides the escape video games an actual feel and look of true video games, as if you're contained in the escape game and enjoying it in realty. The technology utilized in these video games compensates the situation of the actual world. Web world is loaded with quantity on-line video games. Nearly, most of these games can be found free to play. And these may be one of the extra motive that youngsters's and people are turning to those online escape video games. This even helps in reducing there different expense which they do for there entertainment.

Today overlaying distance has turn into a regular schedule for lots of the folks. And thus they usually carry there laptops, web-books, pam-tops with them, online games proves to be the best time pass for these folks. Moreover, with upgrading applied sciences utilizing web is feasible in your cell phone and these is one of the best and handy mode of using the internet, most of the people play video games on the telephone and now with the web on there cell they are able to play a wide variety of online games. On all of this games the escape video games is changing into the new favourite. The clues to be tracked out, the discovering of keys, identifying the clue and there is rather more in there sequence of video games.

Play these games as soon as and you may love them to play is time and again. They're merely irresistible, when you play them you play them again and again. There are a collection of escape games another fascinating then the opposite and the each new escape recreation has a new graphics a brand new record to clues to find, placing these clues together and then find there method out. That is really very thrilling to play games.

Does your Kid keep on complaining that he is bored, here's a collection of escape video games to maintain your child busy.

Is it trip time in your youngsters? They usually haven't got much to do in there free time? Do they keep on banging you for they get bored whereas doing the identical thing again and again? It is the frequent downside confronted by most. The youngsters soon get distracted from doing the identical factor for an extended time frame, and so they want something new which might maintain there minds busy and lively. Right here is something which can assist you to out and you may even get pleasure from together with your children, free online sequence of escape games.

Usually kids get bored and desires something that may preserve their curiosity on one thing for a protracted time period. Online games catch the attraction of most children. They look eye catching due to there brilliant and engaging colours and flashiness. Yet another interesting feature about these video games is that they permit us to handle all of the graphics of the games as per our wish on computers.

In most on-line games you discover the issue of loading which is essentially the most irritating part of these games, but the perfect part of this game is that they are quick in loading. Are you a gaming freak? Do you want to collect a variety of games on-line? Then here is big selection of online games out there simply to entertain you. The list of games consists of Escape games, Supper Collapse games, Gown up games, Brick breaker Games, Arcade, Card, puzzle, Velocity, youngsters, Flash, Escape Paris and plenty of more video games are available right here in to play.

As we speak technology is taking a new flip at each new day, there are so many new adventurous graphics developing which turns you in direction of them might or not it's elders or the young era, they like spending there time doing something exciting, like enjoying games and these online games amuse them increasingly more and spend hours enjoying these free video games. A brand new series of games come up often and thus you do not get bored playing the identical video games again and again, they get a brand new variety of recreation each time they go online. The latest sequence of video games these day's are escape games the place you must come out of the entice clear up the puzzle, discover the keys and rating as extra as potential.

Escape games are getting very well-known among fast online video games. These video games are designed as such to make use of your detective abilities to its fullest; these games check your presence of thoughts, how quick and accurate you're in fixing out these puzzles. It's a must to find out a sequence of clues and find various objects which will aid you get out of the trap you're caged in. These objects may very well be anything a key, a knife, or any thing else you could imagine about. You get scores at each step and this makes the sport increasingly interesting and a enjoyable to play for all of the generations, letting you recognize your hidden detective expertise.

Does suspense Games entice you? Then here are the kinds of Escape video games. Taking part in online escape games is the pattern of immediately's technology. It appears that evidently every particular person today try's to be James Bond and wants to unravel the puzzles and come out of the difficulty. As life will not be a treasure hunt all of us hang over to the fascinating video games discovered solely. And escape video games are as we speak's attraction.

Today every individual is busy in its personal world. The household get together and youngsters's enjoying out door video games have diminished considerable. People play video games in there free time which is one of the best time-cross of almost all the age teams. They want more new video games moderately then taking part in the identical previous games many times; taking part in on-line escape games is the easiest way for it. You get limitless video games on-line. You play all this variety of video games and you'll immediately find that your loneliness will fly of and you'll really feel empowered from inside.

Bear in mind how Gate's family in National Treasure film goes out for treasure hunting, I bet you might be very much fascinated by Nicholas Cages intuition power and would marvel in case you might go for alike treasure hunt. Properly we don't get such treasures in actual life but then that does not imply that you may not solve the puzzles because the Gate's household, On-line video games will give you all that probability to problem you and will put you into bars and what you have to do is come out of that cage, find the best way out of that place, discover each and every object current round you and discover the keys which can provide help to to get out.

There are big selection of video games obtainable for online and you could discover all of them completely freed from value, is not that thrilling? Taking part in a brand new escape recreation each time, fixing a brand new puzzle and escaping out of a variety of new cages and on the highest of it, we don't have to pay any amount for it. Wow! This really excites me. I get so many video games to play with out paying a single penny. There are many escape games obtainable on-line, where you may spend hours and hours enjoying them. As there are such many video games you never find them boring too, in-fact they change into your favorite time-move. In case you are feeling lonely then this games might turn out to be your companion, just try it out.

As we speak's generations is more turning towards the computer systems and are fascinated in the direction of it. A special companion is been observed among completely different people of various age group. The escape games are the games which is attracts most of the age group, as it is requires a lot of brain for use to resolve the problem and come out of the trap. A listing of clues are given to you to help you out however then these clues doesn't provde the exact or direct way out. Resolve one hint and then another after which one other step-by-step and if you are happening the best tract then you definately would possibly come out of the trap. And this is how the video games go on.

In in the present day's Web society it isn't unusual to note individuals of all ages and totally different ethnic groups, hooked up to free online video games. Some readers could also be left questioning the place they'll get a hold of these so known as escape video games to play on-line totally free. A random search in Google will yield more than 1,000,000 results. Contemplating that escape games are browser based games built in flash, by Adobe, thousands of free arcade websites are increasingly hosting these kind of video games. The escape game style has grown to such extent, they're now cut up into different themes, the most well-liked being room escape video games.

Room escape games start you off in a digital room. The first move made by the participant would usually be to go searching for clues. Hints will likely be given as to where you are and the way to get out of your confinement. Secondly, the player might want to make an effort to place these clues together in an effort to provide you with some sort of plan of methods to escape the room. The sport follows a simple to make use of interface through the usage of arrow keys and a few use of the mouse. Some video games even function a zoom operate to raised close in on some objects.

Participating these games don't require the player to study lengthy and complex guidelines. Room escape video games are made for all ages. Both young and outdated can't only play the game efficiently, however enjoy themselves as effectively. The implementation of recent and extra advanced graphics expertise enable for background photos of impressive element. The music rating and particular effects are top notch as well. More choices are available to the players, to the extent that they will chose a room theme through which to play in as a game choice. Thus, being able to configure your recreation in this manner each time you play, will provide the gamer with practically a brand new recreation each time. One also can modify the extent of problem you would like to experience. Though the problem level will mechanically enhance with the completion of each degree.

It is easy to see why so many online gamers fall in love with one of these recreation. A simple story line, and straightforward to use controls, enable for an easy to use yet thrilling game anyone can play. It may be additionally true that as you go up in the ranks, some puzzles could pose an undesirable stage of difficulty, which can stand in the way to a successful completion. Nonetheless, the experience of beating these laborious to beat obstacles truly makes the sport a lot extra exhilarating. In the long run, you'll be left searching for more and harder challenges, making you an avid fan of escape video games online.

The suspense builds up as you end up trapped in a virtual room. You go searching a few occasions looking for clues, and asking yourself if there is a method out. Feels like one of many movies in the Friday the thirteen saga, the place Jason is just outside the cabin and you're left desperate looking for a manner out of the state of affairs. However, this actually not a section of any film, however part of the plot throughout the new online recreation genre of room escape games. Escape video games are merely foreplay for the subsequent era of arcade games, the place players will capable of have interaction in a digital reality, through which they will be able to get a grasp of the suspense related to the setting the place the sport is being played.

The escape games genre are the most recent type of free arcade games accessible within the Web. Free arcade recreation web sites characteristic these games in an rising number of variations. They're made within the flash platform, and have a simple use of controls which normally embody the arrow keys in your keyboard and a right click of the mouse to establish objects. In the standard plot the player will start off in a confined room. The surroundings may have a lot of objects, like hidden keys and locked doors. The article of the sport is to look around for clues that can lead to the escape from your present confinement. Nonetheless, most clues are hidden, and typically protected through the use of a puzzle the player might want to remedy earlier than gaining access to the article.

As you progress and get extra into room escape video games online, you'll notice a vast variety of similar video games with a large range of graphic detail, themes and difficulty levels. These video games have gathered such recognition; quite a lot of titles are also accessible for the xbox, and another consoles. These provide a lot more detailed graphics, consumer interface and a considerably more complex plot. Most players will find it fairly easy to finish the first couple of levels, but as the game progresses, so will the problem for the player. Puzzles will develop into more durable to resolve, and clues will change into rather a lot tougher to find.

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