#Meet Kaur

[beaft]

regret to inform that i did buy baldur's gate III (against my better judgement) in the hope that it would make me less depressed my character is a tiefling who plays the violin he is very pretty and very very stupid

-poor financial decisions

[garden-of-joy]

About me and the blog

Hi! The blog is @garden-of-joy and you can call me Dredge

23, I go by he/him, Home of sexual, Cis of gender

Fandoms are COD, Dead by Daylight, Darkest Dungeon and Ultrakill

I might start writing for fandoms other than Cod, but at least not for right now

Talk in English, but I also understand German, Bulgarian and Portuguese

Currently studying immunology and virology in university. (Because of this, upload speeds may vary)

The blog layout and theme is inspired by Dead by Daylight chapter 24: Roots of dread (please do ask me of my opinion on it)

Huge, HUGE thank you to @mockerycrow for inspiration and helping me set the blog up. (I'm a big fan crow love your works)

[vdo247]

Chugalkhor Aunty : Dharam Patnii , Yeh Hai Chahatein , Meet, YRKKH,

Chugalkhor Aunty : Dharam Patnii , Yeh Hai Chahatein , Meet, YRKKH, #yrkkh #YehHaiChahatein #DharamPatnii #MeetBadlegiDuniyaKiReet #AbhiRa #FahmaanKhan #RandeepRai #HarshadChopda #PranaliRathod #AbrarQazi #SargunKaurLuthra #AshiSingh #ShagunPandey

Get the Hottest, Happening , Upcoming News from ChughalKhor Aunty

[kykyonthemoon]

Till The Break Of Dawn

That girl was Death, and she came to see me on my twenty-seventh birthday.

── .✦ Zayne (Dawnbreaker) x MC (Female Reader)

── .✦ Tags: oneshot, angst, open ending, multiverse, AU, loops, MC is referred to as "Dawn" in this fic, first pov (Zayne's), side characters: Jas, Astra.

── .✦ Word count: ~3k

── .✦ Ky Ky's note: This fic is for my friend Le Juan, and all the Zayne's girlies out there. Happy Moonlit Orchid Day (or Qixi)! <3

It's also my very first time writing for Dawnbreaker.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

when death

takes my hand

i will hold you with the other

and promise to find you

in every lifetime

— commitment (Rupi Kaur)

Rain. Tiny translucent and frigid particles plummeted into this dark world. The rain fell from the opulent downtown area to the deteriorating, abandoned structures. Under the torrent of water, be it human or monster, it was all the same.

Slow, worn-out steps came to a halt in front of a building that had long since fallen asleep in nature's embrace. Blood trickled over the ground and spread a poisonous tint in the water, yet it had no stain on the pristine white jasmine blossoms flourishing in that desolate place.

Jasmine bid me farewell in my last moments. Perhaps this life was not that dreadful to me after all.

My body crumbled. The rain welcomed me. Cold. The sweet scent of jasmine soared throughout the wind. With my final breath, I extended my hand forward. The hand was smeared with so much blood, from both human and Wanderers, and I knew I was not deserving of it. But I had just the desire to touch it once. My pure jasmine petals.

I had simply sought for one favor; let me dwell in those tranquil dreams with the girl I had always revered.

It appeared as if I heard her voice in the breeze; such melodies to my ears, lulling me into somnolence. I was determined to find her this time, forever.

“Zayne?… Zayne?…”

Someone ran to me from the other side, behind the jasmine bush. She was waiting for me. Just a little more…

“Zayne!”

Her warm fingers connected with mine. I awoke at that very time. Was she calling me, or someone who looked identically to me in the dream?

I opened my eyes and saw her there. She donned a dark robe that swept above the street. She sat down beside me and turned my cold body over. That was her. It was truly her.

Each drop of rain landed on her hair, which had barely emerged from the hood of her cloak, wiping the blood stains from my face. My lips moved silently. I ached to tell her how long I had been waiting for this moment. I had always waited for her. And my wish came true.

That girl was akin to my dream. Her eyes fixed on mine, revealing a mix of astonishment and sadness. But her expression was cold. Where was the brilliant smile that brought luminescence into my otherwise miserable life? I desired it.

Trembling. My fingers moved towards her lips. I begged for her mercy  and to grant me this one wish. Yet she spoke before I could touch her: 

"Zayne." Yes, it was my name. But I knew she was calling me, not the Zayne she had loved in her dream. "Dawnbreaker."

This was the real me, in this world.

"I came here to take you away." Her voice was quite sorrowful. Had I disregarded her with my unkempt appearance and stained hands? This was not the meeting I had hoped for, but I was delighted to have found her. Or it was she who found me.

Winds. The bell chimed midnight. The cold seeped into my thick layers of clothing. The girl's scarlet lips parted again as she drew closer and murmured:

"Take my hand."

She seized mine. There was something in her eyes. Death. Then I suddenly realized something.

That girl was Death, and she came to see me on my twenty-seventh birthday.

It is said that when a person dies, their entire life flashes before their eyes. For me, there was more than just one.

Countless sights that resembled fractured, patched recollections flashed before my eyes. They were my life, yet not really. I knew them well yet felt as if we were complete strangers. I was once a foreseer on the icy throne, I was once a god hidden in the deep mountains, I was once a doctor in the modern day,... Among countless variables, there was only one thing that remained constant: her. 

In each piece of memory, I always found her, my girl. It was always her dying heart, and I was fighting against fate to save her. The instant my life ended, our jasmine flower withered. Then everything went back to where it started.

As midnight was also the time when a new day began.

At first, I could not comprehend what was happening. Everything happened in the same order: I met her, loved her, she was going to die, and I sacrificed my life for her. Our identities might differ, and our decisions might not be precisely the same, yet the ending never changed. I began to vaguely feel that a certain hand had intervened in the flow of our life, driving her and me to follow such a predetermined path.

And suddenly I was Dawnbreaker. In this life, I failed to find her. I had always assumed she just existed in my fantasies. It was not until my death that I discovered she had been seeking for me all along.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the midst of a thriving jasmine garden. A person's fuzzy shadow appeared ahead of me. At first, I believed it was her, yet as I drew closer, I noticed it was a boy who seemed quite familiar.

"Georgie?"

No, that was not Georgie. The boy with that name had abruptly vanished before my eyes. The individual standing here was someone else who resembled Georgie.

"Hello, Zayne." The small child spoke. I had no idea who he was. However, I got the feeling that we had known each other for a long time, since innumerable lifetimes ago.

"I'm not Georgie." The boy added. "I only took the shape of someone you used to know so that I could communicate to you without causing any disturbance in this reality. If you don't like it, I can turn into a snowflake, a cat or something else.”

“You are?”

"Jas." He responded. "I am Jas. Perhaps you forgot about me. But I remember you, and her."

The name rang like a bell, reawakening something that had been asleep inside me. I asked:

“She… And you. Have we known each other before?”

Jas grinned mysteriously. “Shouldn't all the answers be right in front of you at this point?”

“Who are you exactly?”

The child went around the garden like a butterfly. A moment later, he replied:

“I am nobody. I am merely an illusion created by her and you a long, long time ago.”

“So… this garden is also an illusion?”

“It's all an illusion.” Jas replied. “This garden and all the flowers here are.”

I looked around. Each blooming jasmine brought back memories of a lifetime spent with her. I found myself ready to ask Jas a few questions about the flowers, but as if reading my thoughts, he immediately replied:

"That's right. Every jasmine here represents a life you once shared with her.”

I cast a gaze across the seemingly endless garden. There was no evidence of the girl anywhere. I wanted to find her, to call her name. Yet, I had no comprehension of what she was dubbed in this life.

"She is Death. In this realm, she has no name." Jas said as if he could read the thoughts written on my face. "But you may call her anything you want. She permits you to."

Hence, from that moment on, I decided that she would be my Dawn.

Dawn represented Death in this world. Her duty was to send the deceased to their proper resting place. She had seen me in the abandoned street, where I drained a soul out of torment before they were hauled into eternal darkness, and their body became a monster. She was always watching me, yet I could only see her when life left me. Dawn, like me, had spent her countless existences in this garden. 

Jas spoke again, directing my attention back to him:

“Stop looking. She's not here. But before you go mad and run to find her, listen to the remainder of the story first. Shall we?”

I had no alternative since Jas began shortly before I could say anything. Following along the boy's footsteps, I felt as if I were lost in another garden similar to this one, but in a distant timeline.

In the past, this jasmine garden was once the residence of a goddess. Although she was merely a minor deity, her fate was tied to the survival of that world. That divine being was Dawn.

She was born from the purest energies of heaven and earth. That was why, with each cycle, she would have to sacrifice her life, offering her flesh and blood to continue nourishing that world. Then she would be reincarnated in her former body, forgetting all about her previous life. Just as the end of day gives way to darkness, and the breaking of dawn marks the start of a new day.

Things were always going to be like this, then one day, she fell in love.

The person she loved was chosen by Astra - the god of creation - to inherit his power and pass on his will to humanity. She was originally sent by Astra to assist him in training, but in the end, she proved to be his greatest challenge.

"Zayne…" She cried out his name, the person who had always been at her side. They traveled the world together, battled side by side, and defended each other. In the end, they arrived at Mt. Eternal, which marked the boundary between the human and divine realms. Overcoming many obstacles, they learned the mystery that Astra had kept concealed for so long.

Astra, the deity that Dawn considered her father, turned out to want nothing more than to take away the power of heaven and earth that she possessed. Every time she died, he became stronger by taking her energies. Every time she reincarnated, he would bring her back and care for her as if she were his daughter, earning her trust until she ultimately sacrificed herself for a false greater cause. But in this existence, she met Zayne.

"If divine power can't protect those important to me, then I shall need nothing from it."

Zayne had made a decision. Dawn went with him to search for Astra, pretending that he would personally sacrifice her as a present to him while they plotted for the murder of the god. However, they were unaware that they were sliding into Astra's predetermined trap.

How did both of his instruments slip out of his grasp so easily? Astra separated the two, robbed their memories and encased those in jasmine. The new Zayne and Dawn began a new life, unaware of each other and with no memory of their preceding love.

But they still found each other. The thread of fate had long ago bound both of them. Dawn, like in her previous life, must die in accordance with Astra's wishes. And Zayne was always trying to save her. The moment he surrendered his life for hers, the flow of time halted. The entire world came to an abrupt end, then it started all over again.

Astra experimented thousands and thousands of times. The jasmine garden housed every existence of the star-crossed lovers, trapping them eternally in the cycle of love and death. They appeared to have discovered this secret after their first few lifetimes. Every time the flow of time was reestablished, their memories were erased. However, simply encountering each other again caused them to fall in love anew; and whether Zayne remembered or forgot, he would always give his life to the one he loved.

"Don't cry…" Zayne was lying in her arms. He was standing before her. He was leaning onto her shoulder... Their circumstances would alter, but there was always that final moment when she wept and grasped his hand.

They had just recently retrieved some recollections of their past lives before being forced to part ways again.

"Don't cry…" This time, Zayne had her in his arms. His back was against the debris of the collapsed research room. The blanket of snow sprayed over, bringing chilling temperatures. They were on Mt. Eternal in another timeline. Yet even this time, Zayne gave up his life to save Dawn.

She shook her head, tears flowing. They were so close to discovering the truth they had been seeking for so long. They had almost broken this curse of eternal reincarnation. Yet in the end, Astra was one step ahead.

"Hold my hand…" Zayne clasped hers. Death reached his remaining arm and froze it. "As long as you hold my hand like this… I will be able to find you… in the next life…"

"Do you promise?"

"Yes…"

Zayne had not once broken his vow to her. However, if she did not truly die, Astra could not obtain the power he sought. The jasmine garden grew wider with each new life and reboot. He must put an end to this.

As a result, he designed a life in which she became Death, and Zayne could only find her at his very last breath.

"Astra believes that if you die before meeting her, you won't be able to die for her anymore."

Jas' voice sounded out. We returned to the Jasmine Garden. Although the location was the same, this was not Astra's first garden. Dawn and I had poured our powers into this garden. Many eons ago, we had uncovered Astra's secret and secretly created this place as a safe haven away from the wicked deity. Jas was the spirit that guarded the garden and guided Dawn and me back here anytime we recalled something critical. Dawn discovered Jas before I did.

"There were two mistakes Astra made." He said. "First, he tried to control and take her power, unaware that each time she was reborn, the energy source within her grew stronger as well. Second, he was naive to believe he could separate the two of you. Even if you can't see her, the bond between you two still exists in a different way.”

At that point, I instantly realized something. "Our dreams?"

"That's right." Jas confirmed. "Even if the person you dreamed about was an alternate version of her, it seemed like all the versions in all of your lives knew each other in one way or another. She, as Death, has always dreamed of you and sought you out."

I halted to reflect on what I had just discovered, or recalled.

"Zayne, listen... Astra made another great mistake. That is giving her the status of Death. It implies she now has your life in her hands.

"Does that mean this time, she saved me?"

Jas' nod reaffirmed my doubts, my fears. "You should have died and Astra could have her again... However, she utilized the power of Death to stop your time. Zayne, you are still alive."

I already knew that. The truth was, my life only begun when she arrived.

"I have to find Dawn."

"Wait." Jas spoke up. Almost immediately, vines from the garden seized my limbs. "You cannot go yet."

"Why?"

"She used all of her current power to prevent you from dying. If Astra finds you, she will no longer be able to defend you. She brought you here to keep you safe, Zayne."

Dawn wanted to confront Astra alone. I expected this when old memories resurfaced. I told Jas:

“Then it’s another reason to find her. I cannot bear to lose her again.”

I strained with the vines that were becoming increasingly tight around me, even using Evol to break free of them.

At that point, the garden started to tremble severely. The pure blue sky above broke into fragments and decreased. The jasmine petals detached from the stems, drifted in the air and eventually vanished.

"Jas?"

“I have… completed my mission…” His voice seemed to resonate from far away. His entire body perished before my eyes. “I exist… so that one day… you and she can… find what you've lost… Now… you both have made your own decisions… So I will… disappear… and return… the source of power that you both… gave me before… But remember… If you and she fail in… this timeline… there will be no more Jas, no more… jasmine garden…”

Jas in front of me appeared as surreal as a mist. I knew I had to find Dawn before Astra made a move on her. This was the last chance we had.

“Go, Zayne… I can only… help you get to… her…”

In the middle of the garden, an archway made of plants and jasmine opened. I hurled myself through it, not forgetting to gaze back at the smiling boy Jas, whose body transformed into thousands of jasmine petals before vanishing.

I heard Dawn whisper to me at that moment of life and death: 

“This time, I will protect you…” 

My hand reached out to where she was waiting. My chest ached as I screamed with everything I had:

“Dawn, take my hand!”

And I awoke. Rain splashed over my face. Cold. I was lying on the roadside next to a jasmine with each flower falling and gently dissolving in the water. 

I lifted myself up. In the black of night, I went after her traces. I knew she was so close to me. I knew she was calling my name. And the world would awaken at dawn, once again.

I will find you, in every lifetime.

[her-penetrating-soul]

━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡​᭄∘˚დ━━━━━━

🤍 ‿"It won't be love at first sign

when we meet;

It'll be love at first

remembrance."⁀🤍

Rupi Kaur

━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡​᭄∘˚დ━━━━━━

[whxtedreams]

Eyes on Me, Darlin’

Inspired by rupi kaur poem

look me in the eyes  when you’re down there eating for your life - i want you to see what you do to me - by rupi kaur (home body- page 79)

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: neighbour!joel x reader

Tags: 18+ MDNI, Valentines day, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, Joel is beautiful, playful joel, implied age gap.

an. cookies and payment received so much love so here’s a part two! hope you enjoy it just as much x

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Valentine's Day never meant anything to you. It was just an excuse to buy yourself overpriced chocolate and order take out for yourself. You’d sit on your couch and watch horror movies as you indulged in the sweet chocolate and made hot chocolate when the night came to the end. 

But this year, there’s Joel Miller. 

Joel Miller, your next door neighbor. 

Joel Miller, who bought you chocolates. 

Joel Miller, who brought over pizza because he still can’t cook even though you’ve tried to teach him.

Joel Miller, who can’t cook but is talented in making the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had. 

Joel Miller, who is currently taking off your underwear with a devilish grin as he looks up at you. 

You had stood in the lingerie store for way too long, picking between sets to wear for tonight. Normally you wouldn’t care what you wore under your clothes and neither did Joel, but you wanted tonight to be special. 

Your first special Valentines.

He'd come over at five in the afternoon, flowers and chocolate dipped strawberries in hand with a sheepish smile. The flowers were bright and colorful, their scents filling your house with sweet fragrance; the strawberries were just as vibrant with their chocolate coating. There was a slight blush to his cheeks, as if he was still a bit embarrassed by the gesture. You smiled warmly as you opened the door for him, taking the gifts into your hands gently and excitedly.

Haven’t done this in a while, he shrugged. 

Haven’t done this before, you shrugged

When Joel stripped you of your clothes and his breath caught at the sight of the lingerie you bought, it was more than worth it. You had selected a pastel pink mesh set with hearts and flowers scattered all over the material. The mesh is sheer and soft against your skin, revealing just enough. At the center of the mesh is a small heart charm, the small pink bows where the straps meet the mesh is an added detail that gives even more appeal. It's a perfectly curated set, and the reaction it garners is everything you hoped it would be.

The praise and compliments that flow from Joel as he looks at you in your lingerie make your heart and mind ache and swirl with overwhelming joy and contentment. His hands trace the delicate texture of the mesh, caressing your curves and exploring your body in awe. The way he looks at you with admiration and appreciation is enough to make you feel like the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world.

You lay bare on the bed, the last of the lingerie set carefully pulled away from your body, exposing you completely before Joel. His hands slowly move up your legs, his touch sending shivers of excitement that ripple through your body. Your skin is sensitive and receptive to every delicate stroke, the caress of his fingers causing your body to quiver with sensation as you squirm and shiver.

The warm smile on Joel's face makes you giggle, reaching your hand down to lay upon his cheek. He responds by letting out a soft huff of a laugh as his eyes shine brightly with affection. 

"You're so beautiful." He chases after your hand, his eyes closing as he feels the warmth of your touch. Your fingers brush along his cheek in a gentle caress, your palm grazing against his skin softly and tenderly.

"You're so beautiful." You whisper back to him, repeating his words back truthfully. Your fingers trace across the strands of hair on his face, the texture soft and delicate.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, as if annoyed by the compliment but enjoying it as well. He leans down to kiss the smile off your face with tender kisses and affection, the gentle brush of his lips leaving you feeling warm and dreamy. The kisses are soft, but there's also a strong sense of passion and desire behind them. He kisses you repeatedly, the touches sending your heart pounding out of your chest as a mixture of affection and longing fills your body.

He pulls back, and you feel your lips chasing after him as he chuckles with mischief in his eyes. He kisses his way down your body, his lips trailing down your neck and along the curves of your body with teasing touches that send a wave of excitement through you. 

The passion grows stronger, more intense with every moment, the heat between the two of you growing hotter and hotter. Your body seems to shiver and quiver with sensation, his touch sending your body into an overwhelming flood of emotions and feelings as you both lose yourselves in the moment.

He stops and you feel his breath, the warmth of it flowing over the most sensitive spot on your body. Your thighs spread as if to encourage him, a simple way of communicating your desire. When he doesn't respond to the sign, you look at him with confusion, wondering why he isn't taking the hint.

His eyes stare up into yours, a knowing glinting in the depths of his eyes. Once he spreads you open and you gasp at the touch of him, he simply commands: "Eyes on me, darlin’." His words are firm, almost demanding, but with a certain playful and playful tone behind them. You are caught off-guard at the command, a shiver of sensation sweeping over you as your body responds to the touch he's now providing.

You watch him with your breath held tightly in your chest, your body trembling and shaking as you feel the long stripe licked up your core. His eyes are darkening as he holds your gaze, his tongue working its magic to send shivers running through you. You can feel the heat building inside of you, your body responding to the touch of his tongue in ways that are almost overwhelming. It's a sensation full of excitement and passion, one that almost makes you lose self-control completely as he continues to work to please you.

You want to throw your head back and lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth on you, but you follow his command and keep your eyes glued to his. The mixture of watching him and also feeling his tongue work its magic on you is driving you wild. It's making every touch and sensation more intense, the entire experience almost overwhelming with how good it feels. As if sensing your mounting excitement, Joel continues the motions, moving faster and working even more intently to please you.

His mouth latches onto your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue in circular circles as he does so. It's a sensual sensation, one that sends your body curling and squirming in all the right ways. His tongue moves quickly, creating a pleasurable vibration as he moans into you. You’re almost overwhelmed by it, pushing further into his mouth as a way of encouraging him to keep going.

You close your eyes as he pushes a finger into you and he completely pulls away. You whine in protest, looking back at him as your arousal is smeared over his face. “Eyes on me.” He demands again. 

You nod, breathing deeply and finally his mouth is back on you. Your mouth gapes open as he pushes his finger in, your core tightening around him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty falling apart for me.” He grumbles into your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit. 

“Joel,” You gasp as another finger joins his first, spreading you open for him. His fingers curl with practice and presses down as he pulls them out just to push them back in again. 

“You wanna cum on my hands princess?” His mouth leaves you as he asks and your hips buck up in search for the heat of his mouth. He gently pushes you back down to the bed with a chuckle. “I gotcha, gonna make you feel good, yeah?” 

“Please.” You plead as his mouth latches onto you again as if it’s his last meal on earth.

He eats you out like it's the last thing he'll ever do, eager and determined to please you. His tongue worships you, caressing your clit in a way that is almost overwhelming. The movement of his fingers only adds to the sensation, driving you further towards climax. You can feel his smile, as if he knows exactly how much pleasure he's giving you as your walls start to tighten around him. 

His name is a mantra on your lips, your body practically panting it out as the sensation builds in your body. It's like a live wire shooting through your veins, each movement causing your body to tighten a bit more. Everything seems to be building within you, your body tightening and coming together. Then it all breaks at once, and all you can hear is Joel's long moan as your arousal floods his face.

His eyes are the first to close, as he's completely lost in your pleasure. His body responds to yours, and he continues his work with such enthusiasm that it almost feels like he's also experiencing a similar sensation. You're both swept up in the climax, your body responding with its own wave after wave of pleasure. 

Once you feel like you're again in control of your body, you tug at his hair and guide him back up your body. He meets your eyes with his own, the two of you locked in a gaze of love and passion. Your movements are smooth and slow, allowing both of you to enjoy the moment.

Your hand rises to his cheek once again, a childish grin covering his face. The delicate curls of his hair fall on his face as he hovers over you, bringing him into an intimate and playful moment. Your nose scrunches up as you feel the wetness of his face, which he simply rolls his eyes at. That is, until he dips his head down to kiss you once more, still with the playful and flirty mood that's so natural to him. 

You can taste yourself on him and you hum into his kiss, as he smiles into you. 

"You're so beautiful," he sighs, his eyes softening even further as they look at you with the same look of admiration and affection he had before. You can't help but sigh as you take in the sight of him, the intimacy of the moment bringing out the most tender and endearing side of Joel. You feel your heart beating rapidly as your eyes lock with his, both of you basking in the beauty of each other.

"You're so beautiful." You tell him honestly, gently nudging his chest with a soft smile. Your eyes remain locked on his, your smile playful and teasing.    

"Ugh." Instead of being flustered and shy, Joel responds with an over-dramatic reaction that makes you laugh. He throws his head back and groans like a child that's throwing a tantrum, as if unable to deal with the praise you're showing towards him. You notice the corner of Joel's mouth twitching, as if he can't actually keep his temper and his lips start to curl into a tiny smile.

One day, you want to tell him that he's beautiful, and you want him to believe it. Because to you, he's absolutely the most beautiful person you've ever met. You want him to see himself through your eyes, to truly recognize how beautiful he is inside as well as out. You want him to know that he truly is something special and irreplaceable, the person who makes your world shine.

You want Joel to know that you've always thought he was beautiful, even before he kissed you in your kitchen that first time. That he was always beautiful to you even back when you were just best friends. His charm and appeal were evident even then, his presence making everything around you more vibrant and joyful. It's what made you want him as something more than a friend, that beautiful spark that he carried and carried well. You want to let him know that even with all the kisses and the love you've shared since then, he's always been beautiful in your eyes and always will be. 

You want to look him in the eyes and tell him how beautiful he is without him pretending that the compliment is ridiculous. He can roll his eyes and shrug you off in a sarcastic and playful way, but you want him to know that you truly believe what you're saying. You aren't just giving him some empty phrases, but you're sharing your truly felt thoughts and emotions. You want him to accept the compliment, to see himself through your eyes and to love himself with the same amount of devotion that you do.

It may not be today, but you’ll keep saying it until he believes it. 

Notes:

this is so early but i’m so impatient with posting i’m really not used to writing smut so i’m just going to leave this here and yeet back to work hope everyone has a lovely valentine’s day. tbh i celebrate self love on the day so buying myself chocolates and pj’s :))

tags: @morallyinept

[soracities]

how do you know when you're getting good at poetry? everybody dunks on halsey and rupi kaur's poetry, and i never really got why and idk if that's what i sound like

Honestly, I don't think there's ever a point at which you "know" you're getting good at poetry--I think "good" and "bad" are kind of vague and amorphous (and distracting) categories that don't do much in helping us understand the feel and impact of certain writing, chiefly because they can also be deeply subjective. How a poet views a particular work and how a reader views it will be very, very different because their relationship to the work is different. I also think "good" is a sort of external category that does not (or should not) carry into the act of writing itself--when you make "is this good?" the chief consideration as you write, you're not actually present in the writing: you're focused on the finished product, not the process, but the process is the most important thing: that's where the poem actually meets you. I think growth, in writing, is less about knowing if you're "good" in this regard, and more about being able to have confidence, or simply just trust, in the writing as it happens.

There's a famous saying somewhere that a work of literature is never "finished"--it just stops. I think skill, when it comes to writing, lies in recognising where this point is, in learning and developing how you navigate what it is you want to say, and how you say it. Some poems, eventually, reach a point where you can take them no further and you know there is nothing more to be said in them or through them. Some poems reach a point where you can take them no further, but there is still something left to be said in them. Those poems get revisited, worked, and reworked again, until they (maybe) get close to the first category: this may mean you work on them for a few weeks, or for years--but either way you are prioritizing the process of making the poem, not how it will be received. "Is this a good poem?" in my view at least, is not really the relevant question--what's relevant is "is this true to what I wanted to say?" Leonard Cohen famously wrote over 100 drafts of "Hallelujah"--I don't know if the central question for him here was just a matter of his skills as a songwriter.

Regarding Halsey and Rupi Kaur, I've only been able to read Halsey's poems through previews on Google Books so I don't know what other people's critiques are--based on what I saw, though, I don't know if it makes sense to criticize their quality as "poems" when she is primarily a songwriter and a lot of those poems wound up as songs. I'm more familiar with Rupi Kaur's writing, though, and others like her (Atticus, Michael Faudet etc), and while I have a personal policy of not getting into Kaur online (there's an ask here which is about as much as I'm willing to say regarding my feelings on her writing)--I can get into this trend or poetry "style" as a whole. And to be honest I think the chief issue here with poetry like this is that poetry, by definition, involves a deep and intimate relationship with language: this holds true regardless of whether the poem is simple, or complex, whether it's 5 lines long or goes on for 50 pages. As I said in that previous ask, it's not something you can reduce to a formula, nor is it a matter of mere reportage or a collection of statements: what makes a poem has nothing to do with line breaks (prose poems exist), but everything to do with how the language moves, how the language of a poem engages with its own content, with itself, and, as a result, with the reader.

The kind of work that proliferates on Instagram does not have that kind of engagement with language--they are, to me, pieces of information more than anything else. They reduce language to a series of stock phrases that act, not as actual words, but as images (and I don't mean this in a visually evocative way). It tries to evoke something that requires a thoughtful and sustained examination in order to be expressed, by surpassing the reality of what that examination actually requires. It tries to ape the effect of a powerful poem without the work that goes into actually being able to make that kind of a poem in the first place: and that work is a sustained encounter and confrontation with the language used and its relationship to what it tries to convey, in understanding that words are not interchangeable blocks you move around willy-nilly but that they have weight and intention, that they interact with each other to build up an idea or a feeling or a landscape in the most accessible way (insofar as language can make anything accessible, at least). But this is rarely, if ever, felt in IG poetry because it refuses to recognize or respect the demands and requirements of the medium it uses.

And because it is lacking in this engagement and recognition, these poems are also, for the most part, lacking sincerity--and this, to me, is one of the most crucial things when it comes to writing. I recall one IG poet whose work was in the same class as someone like Atticus, but I also recall one of his poems which genuinely moved me--and it moved me because, unlike everything else on his account, that poem felt sincere: the structure and the language wasn't any different to anything else he wrote, but in reading it, it was not a question for me of whether it was "bad" or "good"--what made the impact was that it was honest: and the difference showed. You can't come into a poem with ulterior motives. You can't come into it without an understanding, or respect, for the language you use. I'm absolutely not policing what people should or shouldn't read, and I'm not saying people are wrong for liking these poems, either, or that Halsey, Kaur, Atticus et al., are wrong for writing them. Expression is expression, and what speaks to you speaks to you. And to be honest, it is a different kettle of fish when you are writing something purely for yourself (and I think allowing yourself to partake in any kind of artform, without worrying about needing to be good at it, is deeply important for the human spirit)--but because they are putting their work out publicly, if we are going to be evaluating what they write and how they write it, that evaluation has to be rooted in an understanding of the art form they intend their work to be a part of.

For me, these are the main issues I have with these writers and their work and why I just do not like them. But I also want to stress that, ultimately, what you sound like in your own poems, anon, does not matter as much as being sincere to yourself does. As I said, I don' like using terms like "good" and "bad" and I think that often they're fairly reductive (and sometimes outright pointless) categories to use when we talk about and assess poetry--more than anything else, the key to building a robust and informed discernment when it comes to poems is to simply just read--read a lot of it and read widely. The broader and richer your repository of poetry (and literature in general) is, the more informed you are when it comes to all the different ways language can move through a poem, and all the different impacts it can have as a result. It deepens and enriches your understanding of all the different ways of looking at something, questioning something, expressing something. Your vocabularly grows and deepens; your net of associations--visual, linguistic etc--strengthens. And when this understanding grows you are able to place the things you read into a much wider and far more informed context. And this in turn allows you to grow as a reader and a writer. I hope this helps you a little, anon 💕

[tomorrowusa]

If you want to know what the US would be like during a second Trump-Pence-Vance administration, just visit some red states.

Utah has just unleashed a wave of book bans and almost all the banned authors are female.

Books by Margaret Atwood, Judy Blume, Rupi Kaur and Sarah J Maas are among 13 titles that the state of Utah has ordered to be removed from all public school classrooms and libraries. This marks the first time a state has outlawed a list of books statewide, according to PEN America’s Jonathan Friedman, who oversees the organisation’s free expression programs. The books on the list were prohibited under a new law requiring all of Utah’s public school districts to remove books if they are banned in either three districts, or two school districts and five charter schools. Utah has 41 public school districts in total. The 13 books could be banned under House bill 29, which became effective from 1 July, because they were considered to contain “pornographic or indecent” material. The list “will likely be updated as more books begin to meet the law’s criteria”, according to PEN America. Twelve of the 13 titles were written by women. Six books by Maas, a fantasy author, appear on the list, along with Oryx and Crake by Atwood, Milk and Honey by Kaur and Forever by Blume. Two books by Ellen Hopkins appear, as well as Elana K Arnold’s What Girls Are Made Of and Craig Thompson’s Blankets.

Utah is looking for a way of "legally" disposing of the books because burning them would invite obvious comparisons with Nazis.

Implementation guidelines say that banned materials must be “legally disposed of” and “may not be sold or distributed”. PEN America Freedom to Read programme director Kasey Meehan said that such “vague” guidelines will “undoubtedly result in dumpsters full of books that could otherwise be enjoyed by readers” and that while they stop short of “calling for book burning, the effect is the same: a signal that some books are too dangerous”. Let Utah Read, a coalition of organisations, librarians, teachers and parents among others, has started a petition to “fix the ‘sensitive materials’ law”. “It is a dark day for the freedom to read in Utah,” said Meehan. The list of banned books “will impose a dystopian censorship regime across public schools and, in many cases, will directly contravene local preferences. Allowing just a handful of districts to make decisions for the whole state is anti-democratic.”

I hope that Utah school library users and librarians manage to hide the books so that the MAGA book-banning fascists can't destroy them.

The Republican Party which gave us Donald Trump, J.D. Vance, Ron DeSantis, and Marjorie Taylor Greene runs Utah with an iron fist. Republicans have given up on even the pretense of freedom. They have unapologetically gone full blown authoritarian. As such, they should not be entrusted with any elected office at any level in the United States.

[lonvely]

started a new save to play the human enough challenge, so meet venus kaur!

this one is gonna be a lot more casual than my postcard legacy, & i don't really plan on following all the rules. i've been dying to play the sims after work, but it's tough when all i had was a "serious" legacy hehe.

[library-of-confusion]

The Well With No Bottom

I've been meaning to write a post for all of the Louis haters out there who say that he never gave back any of the love that Lestat was constantly pouring out on him, but I got so caught up in the research that I never actually got around to actually writing the thing.

The main point that I want to make here is that Louis' love for Lestat is just as passionate as Lestat's love for him, if not more so. He just expresses it in a very different way. From books, to big screen, to theatre and television series, Louis has always been far more emotionally repressed than Lestat. Hell, most of the world is far more emotionally repressed when compared to the King of Emotional Expression himself! Louis loves Lestat fiercely, but in his own quiet way.

In Episode 1, on the night they first meet, well before any physical intimacy between the two had ever occurs, Louis, who should be furious with Lestat for snatching Lilly away from him, instead can think of nothing but Lestat. "My body was seized with weakness. His gaze tied a string around my lungs and I found myself immobilized." If that's not love at first sight, I don't know what is. He's fallen head over heels in mere minutes.

As their friendship progresses, Louis refers to Lestat as his "coal fire" in a cold winter. He points out that, for the first time ever, he found himself confiding his struggles to another man. While confiding in a friend is completely normal, the way it surprises Louis and catches him off guard is not. It becomes obvious that this relationship means something more than friendship to Louis.

Then, of course, we have the scene at the townhouse when Louis finally sets his pent-up desires free. It was him who made the first move to kiss Lestat, not the other way around.

And who initiates that kiss in the church, just before Lestat gives Louis the blood?

It's also important to remember the unreliable narrator of this tale. Louis has clearly left out many moments in his relationship with Lestat that would help the viewer to see it through his eyes. Lestat himself mentions some of these moments in Episode 2, when he starts out by calling Louis angry, stubborn, unaccommodating and maddening then changes his tone to remind Louis that he is also loving, dedicated and thoughtful. Louis may have failed to mention all the moments that cause Lestat to describe him in this way, but Lestat lets us know that they did happen and that no one has ever displayed these admirable qualities to him in quite the same way that Louis has.

While Lestat lavishes praise on Louis to make him feel better after almost killing his nephew, Louis tells Daniel of his feelings for Lestat. "There was present a kind of worship, on my part. The earth beneath me always felt liquid." How many of us can say such a thing about a lover?

To please Lestat, Louis attends another opera. He simmers in indignation as he plays the part of Lestat's valet and walks a few steps behind Lestat instead of by his side, where he wants to be. He tolerates the stares and comments of those around him to ensure that Lestat has a good time. He even drinks from the Tenor with Lestat, pretending to be enthralled by the experience because he doesn't want to disappoint. Louis sets aside his own comfort and happiness for Lestat.

"Aren't I enough?" Louis asks, in Episode 3, about Lestat's little fling with Antoinette. This question comes from a place of utter vulnerability. Louis is admitting his own jealousy and insecurity. And we all know how well Lestat's reaction went over. Of course, by the end of the episode, Louis shoots back at Lestat. Already upset about the way he is being treated and over his complete loss of control with killing Alderman Fenwick, Louis gets angry with Lestat and tells him that the two of them are never going to work and that Lestat will always be alone. He hits where it hurts the most. To quote author Valarie Kaur, "The opposite of love is not rage. The opposite of love is indifference." If Louis didn't love Lestat as much as he does, he couldn't be so passionately infuriated by him. If he didn't love Lestat, he would have no desire to harm him in a moment of rage.

Another perfect example of the above is in Episode 6 when Louis swims across the Mississippi River to confront Lestat about the song. "I hate you," may be the truth in that very moment, but can we truly know hate if we haven't first experienced love?

Also in Episode 6, Louis confesses that despite all that has happened between them, he still loves Lestat with a wounded heart. This is one of the few times that Louis actually uses the "L" word to express what he feels for Lestat. Lestat points out that the way Louis has been killing animals and how he acts somewhat superior about it makes Lestat feel as if he is being looked down upon for his body's needs. Claudia agrees. Once again, without an ounce of consideration for his own comfort or desires, Louis decides, on the spot, that he will hunt humans again for Lestat and for their family.

Episode 7 is a wealth of evidence to support Louis' love for Lestat. Yes, he's agreed to help Claudia with her plot to kill Lestat, but that doesn't make his feelings for Lestat any less valid than they have been all along. Claudia wants him to be a distraction for Lestat, to give Lestat all of his heart while she plans the rest. "I can't do that. I'll lose myself in him," is Louis reply. He knows that if he falls back into old feelings, he won't be able to turn them off. The connection between himself and Lestat is too strong.

When Louis first catches sight of Lestat at the Mardi Gras Ball, he is overwhelmed by conflicting emotion. "A cascade of feelings came over me as I watched him sponge up the adoration. I wanted him dead. I wanted him all to myself." And by the time their last dance begins, Louis has lost himself entirely. "It was my sole duty to distract Lestat, but in his mirrored eyes, the distraction reflected back onto me. And in the dead center of the whispering gallery, I lost the thread to my plotting and fell once more into the well with no bottom. I was his and he was mine." If his words were filled with any more adoration, they would be in a book of love poetry.

Once again, who make the first move to steal a kiss in front of a speechless crowd?

So, to the haters out there who say that Louis is ungrateful and that the only love he ever gave to Lestat was fake or for his own hateful purposes... what in the hell were you watching?

[aashiqeddiediaz]

VEER-ZAARA + cast and characters

(for @southasiansource​’s #SASTurnsOne — Week 1: Favourite Movie/Song/Character)

[Image ID: ten gifs of characters and cast from Veer-Zaara (2004). The gifs are desaturated of all color except black, white, orange and red. There is sans serif text along the bottom edge where the character name is in large font, and between the lines is the actor name in white cursive text:

GIF 1: Veer catching sight of Zaara, walking into the dargah with a handkerchief tied around his forehead to cover his hair. The text reads, "Veer Pratap Singh" in red and black text, with "Shah Rukh Khan" in cursive.

GIF 2: Zaara clapping along as she laughs brightly, dimple winking, during the Lodi celebrations. The text reads, "Zaara Hayaat Khan" in yellow and black text, with "Preity Zinta" in cursive.

GIF 3: Saamiya meeting Veer for the first time in his cell, saying his full name. The text reads, "Saamiya Siddiqui" in green and black text, with "Rani Mukherjee" in cursive.

GIF 4: Mariam rubbing oil into Zaara's arm, playfully slapping her arm in reprimand as they talk. The text reads, "Mariam Hayaat Khan" in pink and black text, with "Kirron Kher" in cursive.

GIF 5: Shabbo turning to smile widely at Zaara, who is humming as she gets out of bed. The text reads, "Shabina 'Shabbo' Ibrahim" in black and white text, with "Divya Dutta" in cursive.

GIF 6: Bauji smiling up at Veer as he shares his dream with him. The text reads, "Chaudhry Sumer Singh" in purple and black text, with "Amitabh Bachchan" in cursive.

GIF 7: Maati calling Bauji to light the Lodi flame from where he was showing Zaara the fields. The text reads, "Saraswati Kaur" in orange and black text, with "Hema Malini" in cursive.

GIF 8: Jahangir explaining Zaara's role in the political relationship being formed with the Shirazi family. The text reads, "Jahangir Hayaat Khan" in white and black text, with "Boman Irani" in cursive.

GIF 9: Zakir explaining to Saamiya why Pakistan needs more lawyers like her. The text reads, "Zakir Ahmed" in blue and black text, with "Anupam Kher" in cursive.

GIF 10: Raza smiling at Veer, raising a hand to give him salaam. The text reads, "Raza Shirazi" in brown and black text, with "Manoj Bajpayee" in cursive.

/end ID]

[readsrandomstuff67]

forgot yesterdays so I had to do a two for 1 today

Special notes

he has attacked azul multiple times

rook and him regularly exchange information about people

ruggie and him are childhood friends

relationship with my other ocs

raj Amani and Tsuki don’t know joseph

Braxton: gambling buddies

Ben Cagney: don’t know each other

Leon lynch: they don’t know each other

Rowan and Damian Sykes: neutral

Donatello kaur: don’t know eachother

hunter: they both know something (maybe I’ll write more later)

Grayson: they don’t know eachother

lavasmaw: they all hate him and he doesn’t care

Tyson, Abby,Sean,Paige,Emma,and Payton: besties

as an added bonus since I was late I’m going to explain joseph akabas personality: imagine him as jade and Floyd in a mixed package the best explanation is when you first meet him it’s jade and if he gets way too used to you he’s Floyd but if you get in the middle spot he’s just a mixture

[jerzwriter]

Diana is an original character introduced in Chapter 5. Casey meets her by chance, and the women hit it off instantly, becoming fast friends.

Name: Diana Ellington-Rourke

Hometown: She was born and raised in Georgia, but her family moved to Maryland when she was in High School. She attended college in Washington, DC, and moved to Los Angeles after graduation. Her current residence is in Aspen, Colorado, but she isn't there frequently as she travels often. She has a temporary residence in Boston.

Age: 39 at introduction

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Relationship status: Married

Occupation: Artist and business owner.

Faceclaim: Gina Torres

Personality traits: She is effervescent and outgoing, warm and easily makes friends, free-spirited, and has a sophisticated style and appearance but a very down-to-earth personality. She has a good heart and is very self-aware. She is very creative and successful. She is optimistic and always tries to see the best in people. Tries to do the right thing, but is aware of her own humanity.

Other things:

Diana is the daughter of Miles Ellington, a paralegal, and Mindy Kaur, a legal secretary. They hoped she would attend law school, but she had her own ideas.

Milton is black, and Mindy is white, and as a child/woman of mixed race, Diana has struggled to understand where she belongs at times.

She had an older sister, but she died due to a childhood illness before Diana's birth, so Diana grew up as an only child.

She is close with her parents, but doesn't see them as often as she'd like.

She is married to Jonathan Rourke, a well-known and extremely successful Hollywood producer who is fourteen years her senior. They met when she was in her early twenties, and she says it was love at first sight. Her family vehemently disapproved of the relationship because of their age and socio-economic differences, but Diana knew he was her person, and they married shortly thereafter.

As a result of her marriage and her own success, she is extremely wealthy but maintains a down-to-earth lifestyle... at least down-to-earth for someone with her net worth. (Her husband, however, lives very differently.)

She travels frequently, usually between LA, NY, Boston, and her home state of Colorado, but other places, as well.

She and Jonathan are child-free by choice. They absolutely adore one another, but their careers keep them apart more often than not.

In addition to art, she is an avid reader and loves to cook and entertain.

More information will be provided as the story progresses.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Simranjeet Kaur says she was already struggling to make ends meet when her employer allegedly didn't pay her the wages she was owed from her job at an Ontario transportation company. 

The Brampton resident says she's owed a little more than $7,000 for four months of work.

That money is just a fraction of the approximately $9 million in owed wages that advocates say employers in Ontario failed to pay out in the 2021-22 fiscal year, according to the latest data from the Ministry of Labour and the Ministry of Finance. It was collected through freedom of information (FOI) requests by two Toronto-based organizations — Downtown Legal Services and Parkdale Community Legal Services.

Experts and those affected by wage theft are concerned that the exploitative practice of not paying employees has become the norm, and they worry it's getting worse. [...]

Continue Reading.

Note from the poster @el-shab-hussein: raise your hand if you're Canadian and your employer withheld your paycheck from you. Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @vague-humanoid

[thoughtsandbones]

Doth thy demons dwelleth in the darkness too, my belov'd Reaper?

🚨WARNINGS: Mention of mental health illness mention, profanity, scars, fluff, anxiety, medical inaccuracies, blood, gore and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

I do not consent to any AI or anyone taking my work!

Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.

Word count: 6043K

Song inspo: Summer High - AP Dhillon, Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Club, Sinner - The Last Dinner Party, The Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Legend soundtrack.

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

MASTERLIST

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15 I, PART 15 II and PART 16

Part 17

The tiny specs of dust floated amongst the surrounding atmosphere, highlighted in the beams of sunlight that penetrated your room. A few settled down on the frame still clutched in your hand, the gold frame sparkled from the light as you tilted it, staring deeper into the image of Simon. That mole on his jugular kept drawing you in, beneath the skin, the vein you thought for the past 13 years had been burnt to ash was actually flowing steadily. The deep crimson blood slithers from his brain back to his heart after all.

Could it honestly be that Ghost is Simon Riley... or Simon is Ghost... One in the same. You thought to yourself, you get up lay down on your bed, the framed photo at the tip of your round nose.

Time stood still for what felt like hours.

It would make total sense, he knew your old name. You recall the day you first met, when he said that name. The inscription of the former shell you shed. That person who you haven't been able to come to terms with. Unable to reclaim the innocence of not knowing the cruelty of mankind. The lust for war over land, oil, weapons or whatever it is people fight for nowadays...Unwilling to let go that guard you have down.

That mole drew you in again, displayed on the only available photo you have of him.

Did everyone else know...? Surely. Perhaps not... A supposed dead man displayed by a skull face was filled with irony. You couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Simon's smug face startling new and old people with this faux relic of his former self.

Checking your watch, you realise you spent perhaps too long wondering about the past. No time like the present to find out the answers to the questions that flushed through your synapses.

Gathering your selected files and papers, placing the gold frame on top, you put the lid back on the box and slide it back to its former spot. Placing the chosen contents in a spare tote bag, swinging it over your shoulder.

Glancing around your room you look at the knick knacks laying in their places. Collecting dust and time. The gemstones you once fiddled with when looking out the window laid dormant.

Heading back down, you meet Clarissa back in her car. Once back in the passenger seat, you feel a lightness overcome you.

If Ghost really is Simon Riley, then it means he had his own reasons to hide. After what brief knowledge you of have of his supposed death, a part of you understood. Yet there was a slight annoyance growing inside of you.

Clarissa noticed you pursing your lips and frowning as you lulled your head side to side with the smooth motion of the car. After contemplating whether or not to tell you about her encounter with Gaz, the cute sleauthe, to fill the quietness.

But she was reminded of your sudden snore coming from your mouth that you were a surgeon who dealt with an extremely serious injury, and then be ridiculed by the moronic Dr Jones.

As Clarissa drove up to the gate of base she called in a favour from a new friend, Kyle Garrick, to help with getting permission to drive up to the rear of building 2 so you could get back with ease to your quarters.

Clarissa was guided back to the emergency back entrance of Building 2, you woke suddenly with the familiar sound of a large tank thundering by. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and blinked several times, trying to focus them to know your exact location.

"Go get some sleep" Clarissa said as she gazed at you as your rubbed your temple.

"Been a long day" You scoff slightly and then yawn again.

"I'm gonna talk to your Captain about Jones and get something done" Clarissa said

You had heard what she said and nodded, unable to move your jaw to let the words escape.

Exiting the car you to wave Clarissa goodbye and then make your way back up to your room. As your reach your dear you look down the corridor and see the rough outline of Ghost's door...

Taking a deep breath you open your door, the tote bag carrying the gold frame and your documents swung as you strolled into your room. Closing the door behind you, placing the tote bag on one of the hooks and then stripping off your scrubs and crawl back into bed. Gathering the strewn duvet cover from when your were first paged nearly 2 hours ago.

As you cocooned yourself your mind went back to Ghost - or Simon Riley. How 3 hours ago he was shrouded in mystery. But now... You have an idea of who he really could be...

I hope it is you Simon you plead quietly within the emptiness of your room. Your aching bones and flesh beg into sink into the mattress, sleep came quickly this evening as the heaviness of your strung out body shut down.

...

Simon took another deep inhale, his tongue became even more drier as it touched the roof of his dry mouth. Trying to moisten his mouth with saliva, he swallowed the little that came out down. He looked up and realised he had fallen asleep in the shower. The white light of the bathroom pierced his still tired eyes. Simon adjusted his body and sat up straighter, his back bracing the cold white tiles.

With his left hand he touched the now dry bandage and sighed with relief. As he got up, the wound pulsated with pain across his abdomen. Finally, he was feeling the full physical effects of the mission. Simon examined his pale naked body in the mid sized mirror.

Bruises began to appear, especially on his stomach and right shoulder. He could make out the thick red imprint of his gun strap. Brushing his fingers across his shoulder, he felt grains of sand roll against his skin. Simon resorted into having to wash himself with a damp towel and small splashes of water. All in order to avoid the bandage and the wound you stitched together from getting wet.

After feeling far more fresher, Simon wore his comfiest black joggers and socks that had a little German shepherds embroidered on the cuff. Slowly he put on a black vest and then a grey zip up hoodie, but leaving it unzipped. He laid down on his bed and took in the calm silence.

The ringing in his ears came back suddenly; tinnitus. An ever so common issue for soldiers, especially given close contact with flash grenades. Simon tried to forget the images of a bloodied Soap out of his mind, but they, along with the many demons, echoed within his mind.

Suddenly, there was a sharp rapid knock on the door, Simon knew all too well that it was Price. Gently getting up he reached for a clean skull balaclava and put it on and sliding on his trainers.

Ghost opened the door and saw Price, also showered and refreshed, not with his signature boonie.

"Alrigh' Price?" he mumbled, as he leaned against his doorframe.

"Not bad, Soap is awake" Price said, giving a slight grin, which grew as he noticed Ghost's eyes widen.

"How is he?" Ghost says grabbing his keys and moving out of his room, zipping his hoodie as Price moved out the way.

"Alive and well. You can see him, Gaz is there right now" Price said as he watched Ghost lock his door and then turned to face him.

"Let's go"

"Have a good rest?" Price asked

"Somewhat" Ghost gruffed "Can Johnny walk?" He asked

Price chuckled and gave Ghost a light pat on his shoulder

"More than that, he's dishin' out gossip to anyone who would listen" Price huffed

"Really?" Ghost said confused. Hours ago Soap was near the edge of death, and now he is gossipping.

"You have to see it for yourself" Price said

Both Price and Ghost made their way to the ICU where Soap was recovering. And recovering well Ghost assumed as he heard the sergeants laugh fill his body with ease; finally safe and alive.

Ghost approached the edge of the bed, Soap and Gaz finished their conversation before turning their attention to him. Gaz gave him a brief nod.

"Lt! You finally came!" Soap exclaimed his arms reached out, both which had ECG cables coming out him. Ghost saw the biggest grin he had ever seen coming from Soap's bruised and grazed face.

"Johnny.." Ghost mumbled

"Can yer believe that I am alive?!" Soap said, spitting out a laugh, lightly clapping his hands together "For sure thought I was dead" Soap laughed again finally resting his arms from excessive movement on his stomach.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at Soap and crossed his arms. He was acting like he had just had a small tumble and not got shot in the back.

"How's the legs?" Ghost mumbled moving closer over to Soap.

Soap gripped the blue hospital blanket, pulling it up slightly and revealing his wiggling toes. Ghost felt another wave of relief ripple through him.

"Alright Soap, put your stinkers away" Gaz said poking at Soap's feet with his charts that he was looking through earlier.

"Pfft, wanna gimme a sponge bath Gaz?" Soap grinned at Gaz who looked back him disgustingly at the thought.

"Come off it Johnny" Ghost said shaking his head at Soap.

"I was only jokin' Lt!" Soap chuckled

Ghost took in Soap's face and the shared moment of relief and serenity with Price and Gaz. The team was safe, wounded and shocked in places but back in familiar territory.

Gaz sat back down and continued to chat about who would give Soap a sponge bath, asking Price how much or what would it take... Price huffed and said something along the lines of not even if my right leg was blown off.

The conversations between the three faded as Ghost grabbed a chair and sat down, observing his comrades.

"Hey Lt, you hear about Doc?" Soap said, turning his attention to him

"Eh?" Ghost grunted looking up at Johnny with narrowed eyes

"Well, I was laying here, recovering, just woke up from the coma" He starts

'Wasn't a coma mate" Gaz said, Soap ignored him

"I hear a conversation slowly drift into my ears as I lay here recoverin'" Soap continued

"Ah he's telling the long version" Gaz interrupted and quickly went silent as Soap shot him an evil look.

"That Jones fella apparently paged Doc 999 - ICU.. Bless her soul, she must've thought I was dyin' again" Soap said sympathetically towards Ghost, whose eyes were still narrowed at him.

"Runs down here, and Doc notices my intubattery is out"

"Intubation tube" Gaz corrected stifling a laugh with his hand.

"Spit out the short version Johnny, I ain't got all day listenin' to fairy tales" He said sighing

"Pfft thought yer'd be nicer to be me since I am recoverin'" Soap spitted, point to his back.

"Basically, Jones paged Hari on the basis of doing an unauthorised surgery and said to show him her qualifications" Gaz summarised

"Oi, I was tellin' a story here!" Soap shouted, and flung a piece of apple at Gaz from his tray.

"Cut it out Soap" Price said and Soap promptly had a guilty look on his face.

"Wait, what?" Ghost said, straightening up in the chair

"Jones think she committed medical fraud" Price said

"But she saved 'im" Ghost said, throwing his hand out to Johnny

"Aye she did, oh forgot to mention the part Jones said she went psychotic at Foxham"

"Soap.." Price said sternly

"I didn't say anthin'" Soap exclaimed

"You say a lot shit Johnny" Ghost said "What you mean psychotic?" He added

"She apparently had a mental-" Soap started

"Alright, that's enough" Price stepped in "It's all been sorted" he added

"Is she leavin'?" Ghost asked, worry began to tremble through him.

What if you left before he could tell you who he was?

"No, she's staying." Price said

"Good" Ghost said aloud, then realised he said that aloud.

"Takin' a likin' to her ey Lt?" Soap said, giving him a mischievous grin.

Ghost looked away from Soap, he could feel his cheeks and neck getting hot.

"Not the only one" Gaz said, leaning back in his chair looking at Ghost and Soap with a grin. Both looked at eachother.

"I said she was pretty, I'm not in love with her" Soap shouted back at Gaz

As Gaz continued to tease Soap, Ghost got up and put the chair back

"You going?" Price asked

"Yeah" Ghost said moving closer to Price "Might see Doc, see if she's alrigh'?" He added

"She's knocked out at the moment, give her a till tomorrow" Price said and Ghost nodded.

"You goin-" Price started

"Give me 5 days." Ghost said looking straight at Price, who nodded and smiled, he gave him a light pat on the shoulder and let him go.

During the walk back to his room, Ghost made a promise to himself, to you.. 5 days, Ghost checked his watched, it was the 8th of October, 5 days would make it October 13th... He soon realised what day that was; the day The Captain died.

...

Finally after a good sleep, you were feeling slightly better. Yet the inner itch of anxiety trickled down your nerves anytime you heard the words Jones said to you...

"Heard you went psychotic whilst on shift."

Everytime that sentenced pierced your grey matter, your body shuddered, an attempt to rid the thought.

The hot droplets of water scattered across your naked body, taking your bamboo loofah, scrubbing your apple soap, creating a nice lather. You watch the bubbles accumulate as you scrub clean the sweat, the gunk trapped in crevices and bringing new life to the skin.

The fresh apple scent uplifted you, in combination with the hot shower, you felt like you could melt away...

But the oncoming thoughts of the revelation made the previous day flooded your thoughts.

Why would he take so damn long? You thought as you scrubbed over your knee and then down your calf.

But in your mind, you reasoned with yourself.. If you had been betrayed and then supposedly burnt alive you would keep that a secret. Anonymity was literally his name. Ghost

There... But not there really.

Getting out the shower, the cold morning breeze drifted into the bathroom, hitting your fresh skin.

After getting ready you made your way to the mess hall. As you locked the door, you gazed down the corridor to Ghost's room. Checking your watch it was 9:36 am, he would most likely be doing paperwork or something...

Heading down to the mess hall, it was there in the near empty hall you saw Ghost sitting alone on a lunch bench, a cup in front of him. As you both locked eyes, your mouth instantly curved into the biggest grin as you stared at the man hiding beneath the mask.

Your mischievous big grin made Ghost wary of you suddenly as he saw you walk in the mess hall, grabbing breakfast.

Something is up he thought to himself

Watching as you grabbed some breakfast, he kept his eyes on you until you sat right in front of him.

"Morning Lieutenant" You said, trying to not say Simon... Another grin appears.

"Mornin' Doc" He said, puzzled still by your big grin.

He watched as you slowly tilted your head to the side, strands your long brown hair falling too, as if you were analysing his inner workings. Trying to figure him out

"Is it your turn now doin' the starin'?" Ghost huffed, folding his arms

"Hmm perhaps" You replied

Ghost grumbled and looked down at his near empty tea in his mug.

"How's your injury?" You added as he remained silent, now it was his turn to stare at you.

"Fine. Better" He said.

"Good" You said, sucking in some air. You could feel some tension rising between you.

"Heard about Jones" He said, breaking the silence

You look at him, shocked at the bluntness.

"How did you-" You started

"Soap" Ghost said

"Soap?" You questioned "He's awake?!" You exclaimed

"Yeah, he's all good, you did a great job" He said, his eyes softened as he met your curious brown eyes.

"Good..." You say, taking a sip of coffee "What did he say about Jones?"

"Something happened at your old hospital" Ghost said, studying your face for any reaction.

"Yes..." You whispered, dreading the conversation that will follow.

Ghost took a deep breathe in.

"Tomorrow, we need to resume trainin'. Assume you've been doin' some since we've been away" He said changing the subject.

Shocked that he wasn't going to question you, you smiled briefly at him.

"Yeah, definitely, and yes, been training with the martial arts team on base too" You replied

"We shall see how well you can spar tomorrow" Ghost said.

He picked up his mug and said his goodbyes. He knew not to pressure you into giving him information he desperately wanted to know.

Within your own darkness, you seem to be hidin' your own demons too Ghost thought as he walked out.

...

It had only been a 3 days since Ghost, aka Simon Riley, had his deep wound stitched up, and yet he was persistent on picking back up the training, especially hand to hand combat training.

It was no surprise, the Simon you remember was proficient in unarmed combat. Now added with his Ghost persona, daunting others in his stride.

Each time you greeted each other in front of the training room he booked out, you'd ask him how he was.

"Alrigh'" He gruffed

That was his usual response. You didn't want to annoy him any further so you bit your tongue.

Finally, on the fourth day of training, you pinched a nerve with Ghost when you kept repeatedly asking if he was okay and if his wound be able to handle a beating or two.

"So far, I've overthrown you... 7 out of 8 times past three days" He snapped at you, blue eyes narrowed at you.

"Pretty sure it's 6" You replied bluntly as you recall the time you were jumping repeatedly to try and pull him over.

"7" Ghost retorted crossing his arms and stepping closer to you

"You are twice the mass of any normal combatant" You say rolling your eyes edging over to the mat.

"Well if you could knock me over, then it'd be easier knocking normal people" Ghost said following you onto the mat, and got into his ready position as you did the same.

He watched as your face changed, the fire suddenly lit behind the eyes as you narrowed your eyebrows. Waiting for your move, because he knew you would lunge first with a kick. And you did, he used his right arm to swat it away as if the oncoming kick was a fly. He took in satisfaction from your frustration at his easy block.

"Too predictable" Ghost muttered as he circled you slowly.

Taking a deep inhale you let out a deep sigh

"I don't have the upper body strength to take you down" You hurled back at him

"Just try it" He calmly said

Pulling your arms closer to your chest and face, jolting forward and giving a right punch. Ghost dodges.

Ghost decides to up the game and throws a punch, you duck and attempt to trip him with your legs again. He sighs and raises his leg in an attempt to kick you but you block with your right arm and side of the body, with your left arm you grab his thigh but Ghost quickly uses his upper arm to push you back - you stumble with the amount of force he put with such ease.

"Good attempt" He groaned as he stretched his neck and arms. where the muscles laid too defined under his scarred pale skin.

Meanwhile you were panting for air like anything. Walking off the mats you grab your flask and take a quick swig from it. The water replenishes the dryness of your mouth.

"Ready for another round?" Ghost asks, and you swear you heard a glimmer of laughter

Turning around placing the flask down in its own spot, wiping away droplets of water from the edge of your mouth, walking back up to the mats and face Ghost, getting back in your stance.

Lunging first again, you manage to hit Ghost and block one of his oncoming punches. Using his thigh as a stool, you jump up and twist round to his back and wrap your legs around his shoulders hooking your feet against his lower back, trying to use your core to tip him over, but you just ended spinning yourself to his front, feeling you slip, Ghost instinctively grabbed hold of your waist, keeping you from falling and snapping your neck.

"Ain't ya gonna listen to me and not use your legs?" He said gruffly

A small groan come out from your mouth.

His calloused fingers of his right hand grazed the brown skin beyond the edge of the joggers you wore. His grip around your hips tightened as he felt you relaxing your upper body, yet the grip with your legs over his shoulders remained.

He heard you panting slightly as you hung below him. Your tank top rose, unveiling more of the warm smooth brown skin. Like magnets, his eyes took in the vulnerability of your position as you hung casually.

You're gonna pounce he thought, planting himself and engaging his core, his wound although padded and nearly healed (Ghost thought) throbbed dully.

Yet you lay still. Ghost peered down at you again, his eyes laid on your breasts, between them he quickly looked at your chin and then the edge of your round nose. For a moment, he let himself glance at your breasts and then trailed up from your ribs to the protruding skin, a bronze glow as a beam of light bathed that region... Within his chest a ripple formed that gave him ease. His eyes wandered back up to the legs wrapped around his shoulders.

Taking your vulnerability to his advantage; Ghost grabs you right arm with his left and pulls you up and then over him. He heard you yell in disbelief as you were flung over him.

His right hand was no longer securely on your waist but now grasping your right inner thigh, making you lose grip over his shoulder.

Falling on your back you groaned with growing agitation as he threw you down.

"Was that necessary?" You groaned

"I ain't a damn tree" He snapped back, surveying you as you sat crossed legged down on the mat. The black tank top was perfectly fitted, showing your toned arms as you leant back. Ghost looked away and turned his back slightly

"Built like one" You muttered to yourself quietly and get back up up, rubbing your sore back and shoulder.

"Look, come here" Ghost said, rubbing his the skin underneath his mask, then motioned with his hand.

You came closer, and he took hold of your right arm gently.

"Form a fist" He said still holding your arm as you tightened the muscles lying beneath the skin.

"Good" Ghost said, and you looked up at into eyes blue eyes. Simon's blue eyes. As your eyes meet you feel a sharp zing bolt across you, quickly glancing back down to your fist, the feeling spread down to where he held your arm.

"Now, hit me with your upper arm-" He began and proceeded to move that part closer to your body "close like this" he added, and look down at you, meeting your eyes once again.

"'Kay" You sighed, engaging your core.

"Use your arms this time" Ghost repeated and gave a nod for you to go ahead.

You aim for Ghost's chest, he dodges, you attempt again to hit him with your left hand and you hit his chiseled torso.

"Good" he said "Block and defen' now" he added, and he lunged forward suddenly, delivering quick and sharp punches.

You block two, and then grab his right arm, and attempt to hurl him over, but due to his large size he remained where stood.

Thrusting your backside into him to try and get a bit of momentum, but he stood still.

Ghost felt slightly awkward as you kept getting close to his front, he felt your back, especially your bum, hitting his cock. He took a step back and turned his waist to the side, yet you followed his move in attempt to try and bring him down. With his left hand, he wrapped around your waist and lifted you up over his head.

"Not again!" You yelled as Ghost you mid air. He chuckled slightly as he brought you down but you swung your left leg around the back of his waist to try and swivel yourself out of his hold.

"Stop!" He yelled as he lost his balance and you let go of his waist with your leg, but still held onto his right arm. The sudden change in weight and momentum made Ghost fall right on top of you. Your face slammed into the mat, and lips making contact with the grit on the mat, saliva sputtered out as you groaned with annoyance and tiredness.

Ghost lifted himself off of you, he noticed your bare shoulders, as your tank top had a strap in the middle, exposing the tattoo he saw briefly one time on your left shoulder.

As you panted on the mat, Ghost stood on one knee over you and examined the different four flowers coming out of what looked like a skull. He gazed at the black monochromatic skull; an odd reflection of the skull he wore over his own.

He moved back and up, watching as your back muscles flexing as you pushed yourself up from the mat.

"Last round?" You say, wiping your hands together to get rid of the grit from the mats.

"Until you knock me over then it'll be the last roun'" He said, standing in the centre of the mat. Stretching his arms over his head and gazing back at you.

You meet his blue eyes again. Part of you so badly wanted to run up, jump and take his mask off and be huzzah! But that would be a total invasion of personal space and you figured he'd just toss you back to the ground as soon as you made any move.

Best bet is to keep on the defensive mode... Wait for him to strike

After about a minute of circling one another, Ghost struck first, punches that struck you on the side, yet you began to dodge them, delivering punches in return.

"Finally" Ghost said aloud, as he looked at your delivery of punches, few which he blocked and few a he took. He looked deep into your brown eyes, full of focus and determination.

Throwing more punches, blocking and then attacking.

"Good" Ghost said again and he swung out his right leg, doing a high kick and you block it and try to toss him over. It didn't work. Instead you let go his leg, and he swiveled trying to kick you again, you blocked and then remembered a move... A sudden rush of adrenaline charged through your blood.

With his back turned, it was then with your right leg that as you quickly crouched, hooking it around Ghost's left leg causing him to stumble, allowing you the edge to push his back with your left hand.

As Ghost fell forward he felt your hand grip his right ankle flipping him over like a pancake onto his back. Before he could fight back, you lunged on top of him, pinning his left arm with your right leg and your right hand near his throat. Your left knee was placed just on his hip, just the right amount of pressure to prevent him from getting up.

It was one of his signature moves. The surprise attack he would often use from behind.

How could you.. But then he remembered... Simon...

Him

You learnt it from him.

You kept him pinned down in the same position, forcing your entire weight on the points you held him down by. Boring your eyes into his. You could see the remaining black painting creased as he squinted his eyes at you.

"Gonna get off me?" He growled, hoping that would intimidate you.

Yet you persisted. Keeping the same stern look you stared at him. Tightening the grip you had on his right arm.

Annoyance began to grow in Ghost. But then he figured if you knew, then this was the consequences of his own making.

Your fingers were splayed against his throat covered by his skull balaclava. There was a terrible temptation to how badly you wanted to slide your fingers underneath, revealing the mole on his skin that covered his jugular.

What colour was it?

Smooth and circular or rough like potato. What shape is the mole?

As you thought of the mole, your grip began to tighten slightly on Ghost's throat.

Ghost felt his anxiety building inside as she tightened her grip on his throat.

How could I be so fuckin' stupid Ghost thought to himself, he pushed himself up but you were exerting all your strength into keeping him where he is.

"Do you know?" he croaked

"I know a lot of things, to which are you referring to?" You retorted

"Hmm" Ghost groaned, he shifted again under you, yet you remained.

"The day we first met.." You started, thinking carefully of the way you were wording your thoughts. Ghost eyes widened, becoming more attentive.

"Go on.." He said

"You said my old name, how did you know?" You asked, eyes narrowing at Ghost, hoping to catch him

"Looked through a file" Ghost lied quickly. Unable to bring himself to tell the truth.

You smirked, eyes narrowing further.

"Nah, pretty sure the Captain redacted my name"

Ghost drew all of his strength, he managed to get his right leg up and with his knee shifted his weight so that you stumbled off of him as he turned over.

"What you gettin' at?" He said getting up off the mat, lending out his right hand to help you up. You take it, and Ghost helps pull you up.

You know.. Ghost thought to himself as he watched you study his face

"I think I know who you are.." You whispered

Ghost felt a cold tinge begin within him, he crossed his arms over his chest, partly to stop his shaking hands being in view.

"Who am I?" He asked, stepping a bit closer to you

You take a deep breath.

"Simon Riley"

At the moment, Ghost's entire body went cold. What felt like an electric shock bolted in his body.

He was lost for words.

"What makes you think that?" He asked

"You have a mole on your neck, and Simon also had a mole" You stated, wanting to be done with the mind games and for him to take his mask off.

"Had?" Simon asked "Must mean he's dead"

"Supposedly dead" You said slyly.

"How'd you know this Simon had a mole?" Ghost asked, fully relishing in the moment of teasing you. He could sense the gears working overtime in your brain.

"I have a photo" You snapped "And I'll show it to you" You said, walking off the mats.

You were tired of the running around the questions. Answers were needed. As you looked behind you, Ghost began to follow your footsteps as you lead the way.

...

Ghost followed you into your room and closed the door behind you.

You pulled out the gold from that had the photo of the five soldiers, staring at it one last time before handing it over to Ghost.

Looking down at the image in the frame, Ghost recognised the Captain, you and a younger version of himself.

There he was. Simon Riley, before the betrayal, before the chaos and when he had a family. When he had a life outside the military.

Ghost looked up at you, your face still had the same stern look, he could tell that you wished it was the same Simon under this mask, the same Simon that was in the framed photo.

Standing in front of Ghost, he was leant back against the wall. The foreboding skull face whose eyes still protruded glared at you. Every now and then those blue eyes blink, replenishing the moisture of his lense covered in black paint ridden skin.

"I thought you were bacon"

"Bacon?" Ghost said in surprise

You tilt your head up, and watch as Ghost - no Simon - cock his head to the side, taking in an inhale as he shifts his weight about.

"Fried to a crisp" You muttered

"That ain't bacon love" He retaliated

You mouth curved when he said love... A cold pleasant feeling rippled through you.

"Is it you?" You ask, voice-breaking slightly, you could feel your eyes beginning ot sting as tears formed.

Ghost sighed, he placed the golden frame upright onto the set of drawers near him. He reached with his slightly trembling fingers, grasping the edge of his mask and took it off.

Your heart skipped a bit, mouth opening wide as the person finally revealed was alive.

"Simon" You murmured, stepping closer to him. It wasn't the same Simon in the photo. His blonde hair was not so blonde, dirtier blond-brown, and was messy and long on the sides. His jaw was covered in stubble, and as you stepped closer your could see scars scattered over his face; one over his nose that ran near his left eye, another across his cheek. His eyes looked tired, but the black paint didn't help.

Taking in every detail, you scan his face. Your mouth curved as you savoured this precious moment. Unable to stop the tears and the tightness in your chest as you got close to him. Simon.

Simon watched as the tears that fell from your eyes finally trickled down your cheek, dropping down to the floor that held them both in this moment of silence. He reached out for your hand and pulled you closer to him.

He took in your sorrow, guilt riddled him like an aching virus. He brought his hands up, his fingers tracing the bronze skin that glowed in the candlelight, trailing his forefinger and thumb against your skin, taking in the softness. Simon sighed and bowed his head slightly, he looked up and saw more tears coming from your eyes, wiping them away with his thumb. The rough palms grasped the nape of your neck, lulling your head back as he weaved his fingers through your brown hair. Simon gazed back, and closed his eyes placing his forehead against yours, his cold sharp nose tip pressing into your round nose.

"Ru" He whispered finally, his eyes still closed, yet he felt your wet lashes flicker against his.

"Simon" You croaked, and sighed deeply into him, Simon felt you relax and pulled in close to him, wrapping his warm strong arms tighter around you. Taking in the comfort as you melted into him.

Each inhale brought in a mix of cinnamon, musk, cigarettes and sweat. A perfect elixir that soothed your melancholy.

"Didn't mean to take so long" Simon gruffed

"I knew something was up" You said, sniffling as you pulled away, wiping the tears away with your wrist. Looking up at Simon, who still held you close to him.

"I just needed time" Simon said, his forehead touched yours has he took another inhale, a weight finally lifted off him.

Reaching around his waist, you wrap your arms tight.

"You took your time, then I took the shot" You said chuckling slightly into him. His grip on you tightened and you could feel him laugh a little too.

As Simon held you in his embrace, thankful that you were not mad, he finally felt his inner demons quell within the darkness that had put a hold on him for far too long.

[uloelu]

Location: Petting Zoo, Newcrest

(transcript under the cut)

Previous (Part 1) | Next (Part 3)

Part 2...two months late 😅 The funny thing is, these captions have been written since the end of April! I wish I had a better reason for the delay other than work, life, and lack of motivation, but unfortunately, I don't. I'm excited to share Part 3 with you soon! It's the last part of the foster mothers' episode, and if you read Part 1, you can probably guess what's going to happen in it.

Side note: when taking these screenshots, I bizarrely decided to test out a new Reshade to see if I liked it better. Unfortunately, I didn't, and it kind of messed up the vibe of the pictures. I had to do a lot of editing to get these pics looking as normal as possible, so if they look a bit different than my previous episodes, now you know why! In the future, everything should be back to normal. Sorry about that!

Episode 5: Mother, Mother - Part 2

Scene 3 - Petting Zoo, Newcrest

[Evelyn arrives at the Newcrest Petting Zoo with Bobbie, her niece.]

Bobbie: This is the coolest place ever, auntie! Thank you, thank you!

Evelyn: My pleasure. Feel free to check out all the cute animals. Just make sure you stay where I can see you.

Bobbie (sprinting away): Wheeee!

Evelyn: Bobbie, wait!

[Evelyn begins to check out the animals.]

Evelyn: These animals are pretty—wait, is that llama looking at me?

Geeta Kaur (walking by and waving): Evelyn, hi!

Evelyn: Geeta?

Geeta: In the flesh! Lovely to meet you outside of emails and video chats. How are the teens doing?

Evelyn: Honestly? Pretty good! Didn’t expect them to adapt as well as they have.

Geeta: As for you and Audreyanna?

Evelyn: She’s good, too. Slightly frazzled. And me...well… (scoffs) Perimenopause, classroom politics, the usual. It’s nothing, really.

Geeta (concerned): Doesn’t sound like nothing.

Evelyn: I don’t want to take up too much of your time.

Geeta: Perish the thought. I’m practically prehistoric compared to these animals. My grandson has likely forgotten that I exist.

Evelyn: You sure?

Geeta: Of course! Social work has made me quite a good listener.

[The two sit down on a nearby fountain.]

Evelyn: I almost feel embarrassed for even thinking about these things. But after two months with these kids, I expected...well, I don’t know what I expected. More? For them to need me?

Geeta: They do need you, Evelyn. Even more than to give them a place to lay their heads at night. Irving’s got his diagnosis, Wes is struggling to stay on the right path…

Evelyn: True, true, but they don’t like to talk to me about those things. I can barely get a word out of either of them. And take Chloe—the girl has every second of her day planned out. I’d love to talk to her as a woman, you know? Ask her about life, crushes, college. I don’t even know if any of them are going to prom!

Geeta: Hm, that is tricky. You can’t make them talk to you—you can only show that you’re a safe person for them to confide in. (looks down at her phone) Here—I have a forum that I recommend to all of my foster parents. Should have told you and Audreyanna about it ages ago. It’s a great place to find support when you need it.

Evelyn: Thank you, Geeta. You’re the best.