#This is not Obey Me done in a nutshell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neewtmas · 1 year ago

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I definitely should be going to sleep, so now is the perfect time to read a 10k words (!!!!!) fic hehe

So why was she having to babysit three other agents who really should have been old enough to look after themselves?

that's just Holly's job description in a nutshell

she'd nicknamed him Beanpole

a little mean, but also accurate

“Oh, we're not in trouble,” he grinned, and although she rolled her eyes she couldn't deny the way her heart skipped a beat at his smile

very normal reaction to having lockwood speak to you

Plus, we're insured.” “No you're not,” Barnes interrupted, joining the conversation and holding a manilla folder.

this is just pretty much every case of Lockwood & Co in a nutshell

“What the actual fuck…” she whispered, then shook her head and closed the door behind her, choosing to ignore the mess inside.

anyone who ever comes into contact with them bc they are unhinged

He still looked effortlessly gorgeous though, and Y/n found herself wondering if he was single

just another very normal reaction to seeing Lockwood

They shook hands awkwardly in the limited space they had in the back of the taxi.

i love that picture😭

Ten minutes later she had a mug of tea brewing on her desk while she furiously tapped at the keyboard for any information on Lockwood and Co, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found.

equivalent to instantly searching up the cute guys insta after you find out his name💀

She knew that they were all at home, because she could hear them arguing about who was going to answer the door, but nobody had done it yet.

that is so typical omg

His smile was infectious, and she still had a grin on her face at the thought of him when she went to bed that night.

“Only when I know that you're going to be here,” Y/n responded, and delighted in the faint pink tinge that came onto his cheeks.

what a cutiepie🤭

Their flirting had never gone as far as properly inviting the other back to their place (although there had always been the comments of 'why don't we finish this somewhere else?' or 'wanna come home with me and prove it?'), and it took Y/n a moment to realise that he was being serious.

oh my god

I think there's half a bottle of wine that needs finishing off if you wanted to share? No pressure though.”

oh oh oh what is happening??

“Darling, I'm scandalised that you would ask me that question. You know that size doesn't mat-”

She ignored the weird look that the driver cast them in his rear view mirror and focused on Lockwood's answer instead.

i don't even wanna know what kind of weird ass conversations you get to witness as a taxi driver

They were dangerously close to kissing, their lips only a couple of centimetres away from each other while their noses brushed with every jolt in the road, and then the taxi was slowing and pulling up to the curb outside 35 Portland Row.

oh my that escalated quickly

I am! In fact, have I shown you my hat collection?

is that a reference to @maraschinomerry ??

She was regretting not drinking the water before sleeping, and when she flopped back onto the bed and under the covers she realised that there was someone else in the bed with her.

oh my GOD what happened

especially since she was in her underwear and, as far as she could tell, Lockwood wasn't wearing any clothes.

ALASFHF

Finding all of her things was difficult, since they'd been flung all around the room in what she hoped was drunkenness and not desperation,

i'm gonna SCREAM; WHAT HAPPENED??????

Are you naked?” she blurted out, immediately covering her face with her hands to block out Lockwood's shocked reaction. His laughter didn't help, only serving to make her feel more embarrassed than she already was, and she stayed safely behind her hands while she waited for it all to be over.

OH MY GOD

For the most part she obeyed, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't peek through her fingers briefly while he was getting dressed.

only an absolutely insane person wouldn't👀

Y/n realised with a start that the flash had been Lockwood and his stupid grin, dressed in his stupid long coat that was stupidly attractive on him, waving his rapier around in stupidly perfect motions.

oh he's gonna be insufferable

His free hand had come up to steady her by the arm, and now he was gently stroking up and down. She wondered if he knew he was doing it.

everything is happening all at once HELP

i'm gonna pass out

HANDS

It was almost too much, his gaze, since it was heavy with so much emotion that they hadn't even properly addressed between them, and that was probably why he kissed her.

i have PASSED OUT

The third kiss was the longest yet, and it took them a long time to move from the front hall to his bedroom.

i have passed out A SECOND TIME

They hadn't spoken after the night they spent together two weeks ago, and now he had an unreadable expression on his face while he looked at her.

oh god oh god oh god

“You know I told you you could call me Anthony.” He had, not long after he'd taken her to his bed.

why don't you just kill me already

Would you go on a date with me? Please circle one answer

*SCREAM*

She wasn't sure she was breathing. “Are you proposing?”

“What? No, if I was proposing you'd know about it, darling. I just… I don’t know.” He looked nervous, and although he hadn’t let go of her hand, she could see that he was fidgeting.

I have no words anymore

“Absolutely.” He was still holding her hand when he kissed her gently, like he thought she might leave at any moment, and when he pulled back after a couple of seconds she dragged him right back to her lips, shifting somehow even closer to him on the seat. The gift he had made that now sat on her finger felt as heavy as a gold one, filled with the promise of what could be and happy endings, and she found herself thinking that if the two of them did ever marry, she would be happy to do so with a paper ring.

i'm just gonna do a comment where I copy and paste the entire fic in it

“I’m glad,” Anthony said suddenly, breaking the silence. “That we… you know.” “Nearly died and then slept together?” “That’s one way of putting it. I just - I’m glad.”

“Is that us?” she had asked, grabbing the frame with both hands. “Oh… yes. Sorry, it was just a really nice photo and we don’t get to see each other that much, and-”

HELP

they quickly realised that their new hire would be sharing a bed with their boss

only possible with Lockwood & Co omg

The Source had apparently been one of the tiles on the ledge, where the Barbecue Man had tripped after falling face first into the coals and cracked his skull open on the edge of the pool

I really love your mind, Belle

“Not hotter than me though, right?”

never

She had flashbacks to the last time her hands had been near his mouth in a far less family-friendly setting, and tried to stop her knees from giving out.

too late, mine have given out already

His hand trailed over her bare side and his eyes were looking at everything but her face, proving that he really wasn’t in the right mental place for a conversation like this, but she tried again anyway.

She ran her fingertips over his arms, marvelling at the hidden muscles she felt. She didn’t think she would ever get over how much she loved his arms, or his hands, or how they looked when he rolled his dress shirt sleeves up and folded his arms against his chest, and from the look he was giving her right now he apparently knew that she felt that way.

She definitely shouldn’t have this much of an obsession with his arms, but the moment his arms tightened around her torso and her thigh, bringing her on top of him fully while he sat up with her in his lap and kissed her deeply, she couldn’t find it in her to care.

i can't speak anymore, sorry

He’d made her new ones at random points throughout their time together, but the original one that he’d folded from that piece of paper in the Fittes public library had remained in pride of place in her jewellery dish in their now shared bedroom at 35 Portland Row.

YOU ARE A MASTER OF WORDS BELLE AND QUEEN OF BEING SUGGESTIVE AS HELL AND NEVER FOLLOWING THROUGH AHHHHHH

paper rings

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Word count: 10.2k words

Warnings: mild spoilers for the later books (this is set after TEG and they're all 18+), a LOT of mildly explicit innuendoes and sexual references, swearing

this is my Valentine's Day surprise that I've been talking about, so happy Valentine's Day to you all! <3

based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name

Anthony Lockwood masterlist

It was nearly 2 in the morning, and Y/n L/n was exhausted.

She had been on a case for the last seven hours and everything hurt and ached - including places in her body she didn't even know she had - and she just wanted her bed and an incredibly large cup of tea.

So why was she having to babysit three other agents who really should have been old enough to look after themselves?

Two of them seemed to be high on flare fumes, giggling about absolutely nothing and making weird sounds every few seconds. The third was smiling fondly at his friends and coworkers, but wasn't doing anything to stop them from getting closer and closer to the edge of their sanity.

Y/n sighed for the millionth time in the last ten minutes, and the third agent (the one who wasn't as insane as the other two - she'd nicknamed him Beanpole) looked over from where he was leaning back against the DEPRAC van with his arms crossed. Somehow he looked effortlessly cool and relaxed, despite the plasma stains and dirt covering his entire body.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I'm fine, just want to go home and stop looking after three other agents.”

“Ah, that’s fair. Wait, 'looking after’?”

“Yeah, Barnes told me to keep an eye on you three 'cause you were in trouble or something.”

“Oh, we're not in trouble,” he grinned, and although she rolled her eyes she couldn't deny the way her heart skipped a beat at his smile. “Barnes just likes being dramatic. We didn't do anything.” Somehow she didn't believe him, but the sheer amount of charm that was pouring out of him was making her disregard any concerns she had about how truthful he was being.

“So what is it that you aren't in trouble for then?” His grin only grew wider, and Y/n found herself smiling back.

“Minor property damage. But in our defence our client didn't warn us about the malignant smoke that she'd seen creeping out of the basement or even the intense waves of nausea she felt when walking past her under stairs cupboard. So we really can't take any of the blame for completely decimating her bannisters and front hall. Plus, we're insured.”

“No you're not,” Barnes interrupted, joining the conversation and holding a manilla folder. “You didn't have your DEPRAC standardised iron chains, Lockwood. Not according to this report.” That made Beanpole (Lockwood? Although that didn't sound much like a name) stand up, uncrossing his arms as a frown decorated his pretty face.

“What? But we did, I made sure after Mrs Hope's house.” Y/n didn't know what had happened at Mrs Hope's house, but from the way Barnes was frowning even more than usual and somehow looking even more unimpressed with Beanpole she figured she didn't want to know. “You can go in and check if you like, they're still in the hall.”

“Fine. L/n, you go in and check.”

“What?”

“Just check the chains are there, then come back. They managed to at least get rid of the ghosts.”

“Alright,” she grumbled, hoisting her belt up a little and trudging off in the direction of the building Barnes had pointed her to. She shouldn't even be here, since she was meant to have been at home around half an hour ago, but now she was making her way into some random woman's house to carry out a job that any random DEPRAC officer could have done (if what Barnes had said about the other agents removing the Visitors was true). She pushed open the door, glad for her gloves at the chill in the air, and scoffed when she immediately laid eyes on the thick iron chains that had been kicked to the side in the fight. Y/n picked them up, huffing under the added weight, and was about to turn and leave when her eyes caught on the state of the front hall. “What the actual fuck…” she whispered, then shook her head and closed the door behind her, choosing to ignore the mess inside.

“Well?” Barnes demanded when she'd made her way back. She dropped the chains at his feet.

“Yep. I don't know why I had to do that though, anyone could have looked.” She was being irritable, she knew, but she thought she was perfectly justified in feeling that way.

“Alright.” Barnes looked unhappy about the whole situation too, but that wasn't Y/n's fault. “Then just sign these papers and you three can go.” Beanpole was smiling smugly, and he nodded and took the papers that Barnes handed him.

“Thank you, Inspector. Luce, George, here.” They were both still laughing at something only they knew about, clutching their sides as they took the sheets of paper that Beanpole handed them.

“Can I go home too?” Y/n asked Barnes while the others signed the forms.

“Yeah. Maybe catch a ride with these three, they're your way.”

“Fine.”

A few minutes later the four of them were piled into a taxi and heading off down the road in the direction of Marylebone.

“So,” Beanpole started. The moon was shining bright on his face through the taxi window, making him look like a Visitor himself when combined with his already pale skin and the dark shadows under his eyes. He still looked effortlessly gorgeous though, and Y/n found herself wondering if he was single. “You're an agent then. Solo?”

“Oh, yeah. Never liked working for the big companies. They never really cared about the people, you know? Shit,” her eyes widened as she realised what she'd said. “Are you a company?”

“Yes, but don't worry. We have a grand total of four people at our agency. Sometimes five or six if we get extra help from others.”

“That's... very small. Is the fourth your supervisor?”

“No, our secretary actually. Holly doesn't much like being in the field anymore though, but that works out alright for us. She still gets paid a good amount.”

“So if you don't have a supervisor…”

“I'm the agency head,” he smiled, but now instead of appearing chipper and light, he looked tired and weighed down by the responsibility of running a company and looking after his coworkers. “Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood and Co.”

“Y/n L/n, formerly of Fittes.” They shook hands awkwardly in the limited space they had in the back of the taxi.

“And you left because they don't care about the people?”

“That's right. I always wanted to connect more, but I guess that's because of my Touch. Fittes were much more businesslike about it all, just going in and getting the job done and not caring about anything other than having another successful case under their belt. It just didn't sit right with me.”

“Well if you ever feel like working for a company again, you could always come and work with us,” Anthony Lockwood said. “I'm sure we could do with someone like you helping us out. Besides, we do care about the people; it's pretty much the only thing going for us other than our skill in the field.”

“First stop?” the driver called out, slowing the vehicle.

“Oh, that's me,” Y/n stated, grabbing the door handle and getting out. “Thanks for letting me ride with you.” She moved to the boot of the taxi to take her kit bag and rapier, and was surprised when Anthony Lockwood followed her, helping her to balance all the bags inside and making sure that nothing fell out. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. And I mean it, if you ever feel like joining us on a case then just come and find us.”

“That's... that's actually nice of you, thank you.” He nodded with a smile, then clambered back into the taxi (which looked difficult with how long and thin his limbs were). She stood on the pavement for a few moments, waiting for the taxi to start moving again and waving at the three agents left in the cab as they drove off down the road.

As soon as she was inside her shared house, door firmly shut and locked and kettle boiling on the stove, she pulled up the chair at her desk and switched on her computer, typing in her password and logging in. Ten minutes later she had a mug of tea brewing on her desk while she furiously tapped at the keyboard for any information on Lockwood and Co, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found. There wasn't much, since she couldn't access a lot of the full reports of cases, but there was a decent number of newspaper articles that had been uploaded for her to read. One detailed the £60,000 fine that the company had been given for setting fire to a certain Mrs Hope's home a few years prior, and from the blurry black and white photo the blaze looked like it hadn't left much behind.

Further research provided an address for their agency at 35 Portland Row, not far away from where she currently lived. One or two articles were about the parade incident from the Black Winter and Lockwood and Co's success in protecting the people present, but other than that there wasn't much more.

She sat back in her chair, sipping the last of her tea. Bedtime for now, but when she finally woke up she'd head to the nearest corner store and pick up some food. The fridge had been nearly empty when she'd looked earlier, and she knew that Portland Row was on the way back.

She wanted to say thank you again (and totally not spy on their house), and everybody loved a doughnut.

~~~

Y/n had knocked on the door roughly two minutes ago, and nobody had answered.

She knew that they were all at home, because she could hear them arguing about who was going to answer the door, but nobody had done it yet.

Knocking once more while balancing the box of doughnuts in her other hand she sighed, waited another thirty seconds, and just as she turned to leave she heard the locks click behind her. The door swung open to reveal Anthony Lockwood, once more dressed in a suit (a lot cleaner than the one he'd been wearing in the early hours of that morning), and a wide smile on his face.

“It's you! Miss L/n, was it?”

“Uh, yeah. Just Y/n is fine though. Um, I just wanted to say thanks again for the lift last night, and for being nice and shit when you didn't have to be, and I bought some doughnuts if you guys wanted them.” She tried to surreptitiously peer around him to take a look at his front hall, but the interior was quite dark and cluttered and it was difficult to pretend to not be inspecting somebody's home when they were stood in front of you.

“Oh, you really didn't have to, Y/n.” He took the box out of her hands anyway. “Did you want to come in?”

“No, thank you. I should get back. I've got a lot of paperwork to get through and I think one of my housemates is cleaning today and wanted everyone's help, so…” she trailed off, rocking slightly on her heels while Anthony Lockwood watched her.

“Right, well, thanks for stopping by! And for the doughnuts, that was very generous of you.”

She shrugged. “I've had taxi rides with people I was actually working with and they were complete arseholes to me, so I really appreciated you not being like that when you didn't even know me.”

“Anytime.” He paused for a moment, then frowned at her. “How did you find us? I know I said that you could always drop by but I don't remember actually telling you where we live. There's not a problem with it, by the way, just curious.”

“Oh, I looked it up. Figured you meant to tell me and never got round to it. Besides, I needed to go shopping anyway and I live nearby, so it wasn't too difficult for me.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Well it was lovely seeing you again, Y/n. I look forward to our next meeting.” His smile was infectious, and she still had a grin on her face at the thought of him when she went to bed that night.

~~~

For the next few months, both Y/n and Lockwood and Co were busy with their own cases, but regularly passed each other in the street. Anthony Lockwood had taken to sending her a wink or flirty quite early on, and because Y/n believed it impossible that someone like him was single and therefore able to chase after someone like her, she ignored him. Every now and then she would indulge him, of course, flirting back to see how he would react (he was always pleasantly surprised and kept their little game going for as long as he could before he was needed), but for the most part she would walk right past him.

It wasn't entirely her fault, since many of the times they bumped into each other she was on a time schedule, and didn't have the extra minute or so to flirt with the pretty boy.

The last time had been different, though.

~~~

“Hello again, darling,” a voice said from her left, and Y/n smiled when she recognised it right away as Lockwood's. They knew each other better now, from the few times that they had been able to talk for longer and ask how the other was doing, and when he had found out that she was calling him Anthony Lockwood in her head he gave her a look of barely contained amusement and told her she could pick one.

Anthony had felt too personal, since everyone else that spoke to him seemed to call him Lockwood, and she didn't think they knew each other that well for her to use his first name.

“Come here often?” he asked, appearing in her field of view and leaning on the table she was sat at in the small night café.

“Only when I know that you're going to be here,” Y/n responded, and delighted in the faint pink tinge that came onto his cheeks.

“May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite her, and she nodded.

“Not with your friends tonight?”

“No, they're probably at home already, lucky bastards. My case ran on a bit longer than I expected, and I couldn't wait for a cup of tea. Plus, when I saw you in here I couldn't not come and see you.”

They sat there for a while, making their way through two cups of tea each before deciding to leave, and Lockwood offered to take the taxi home with her.

When they were nearly back to Y/n's house, he spoke up.

“I'll pay, if you like. I'll be paying for this stretch of the journey anyway so it doesn't make much of a difference to me.”

“Oh, Lockwood, I can pay you for my part at least, it's not a big deal to me.”

“Nonsense.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, just as they drove around the corner onto her street. “Or… you could come back to Portland Row with me?” Their flirting had never gone as far as properly inviting the other back to their place (although there had always been the comments of 'why don't we finish this somewhere else?' or 'wanna come home with me and prove it?'), and it took Y/n a moment to realise that he was being serious.

“I mean... if you're sure? I don't want to impose or anything.”

“No, you won't be imposing, darling. George and Lucy will be asleep, I'm sure. I think there's half a bottle of wine that needs finishing off if you wanted to share? No pressure though.”

“That sounds great, actually.”

“So are you two both going to Portland Row then?” the driver called, and Lockwood nodded.

“Yes please.” He turned back to Y/n, worry starting to creep into his expression. “You did agree, right?”

“Yes, Lockwood, I did. I think I need something that's not tea to be honest.”

“You can stay the night, too. If you need to. I'll sleep on the sofa and you can have my bed.”

“I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Lockwood. How big is it?”

“Darling, I'm scandalised that you would ask me that question. You know that size doesn't mat-” He was cut off by Y/n smacking him in the chest, and he chuckled when she glared at him.

“The bed, Lockwood, how big is the bed? If I wanted to know the size of your dick I'd ask you to strip.” She ignored the weird look that the driver cast them in his rear view mirror and focused on Lockwood's answer instead.

“Steady, darling. We're not back yet.” He yelped when she whacked him again, and caught her wrists and held them so that she couldn't attack him anymore. “It's a double.”

“Well then we can both fit, can't we?”

“Asking me to strip, getting me into bed with you? If I didn't know any better, darling, I'd say that you were trying to seduce me,” he smirked, leaning in close.

“Oh, Lockwood. I think we both know I did that a long time ago, don't we.” They were dangerously close to kissing, their lips only a couple of centimetres away from each other while their noses brushed with every jolt in the road, and then the taxi was slowing and pulling up to the curb outside 35 Portland Row.

“Alright you two, out. And use protection please, you're too young to be havin' kids.” Y/n flushed and opened the door, moving around to the boot to take out her kit bag and rapier, and when Lockwood followed a moment later after paying the driver his face was red too.

~~~

“Here,” Lockwood said, handing over a tea mug filled with wine.

“Thanks. You're sure the others won't mind us drinking this?”

“They've had plenty of time to drink it, and I own the house and therefore the kitchen and the contents of the fridge are mine too, so I say it's fair game.” His smile was slightly blinding, but Y/n had learned to see past the glare and look at his eyes instead, finding the pure joy behind the façade he put up for the world to see.

They didn't know each other that well, when everything was considered, but Y/n did call him her friend when describing their relationship, and she did feel that if asked, Lockwood would say the same.

Around thirty minutes later Y/n was nearly doubled over with laughter at some stupid thing that Lockwood had said (the wine had gone straight to her head and she had no recollection of what exactly he had said), clutching her sides as they sat in the cluttered library with the bottle of wine between them.

“You, Anthony Lockwood, are ridiculous!”

“I am! In fact, have I shown you my hat collection?”

“Is that some sort of weird euphemism? Or are you genuinely more deranged than I thought you were?”

“Not a euphemism, love,” he grinned, and Y/n in her wine-addled state thought about how he was starting to look like the deranged young man she'd just accused him of being.

“So... you actually have a hat collection? Why?” Lockwood shrugged.

“It's good for disguises when I need to do a little bit of extra research for a case. I can do accents too!”

“No offence, Lockwood, but I've heard some of your accents, and I'm very surprised that you haven't been hunted down and killed yet.”

“Believe me, people have tried!” Somehow he didn't look concerned about that, still smiling just as widely as before, and Y/n thought he looked rather nice like that.

~~~

When she woke up in the morning, Y/n realised she had never taken the painkillers Lockwood had left on the bedside table for her to use.

“Shit,” she whispered, grabbing the packet and the glass of water and swallowing the pills the best she could in an attempt to stave off the headache that had formed. After finishing off the wine, Lockwood had managed to find some more alcohol hidden away in a cupboard in the library ("It's my personal stash, so don't worry about feeling guilty about drinking this") and they had stayed up until it was nearly sunrise talking about everything and nothing. She was regretting not drinking the water before sleeping, and when she flopped back onto the bed and under the covers she realised that there was someone else in the bed with her.

Lockwood looked peaceful asleep.

While she didn't mind waking up next to him in the morning (the view was actually rather nice), not being able to remember what had happened the night before was a little disturbing, especially since she was in her underwear and, as far as she could tell, Lockwood wasn't wearing any clothes.

The bedsheets had been partially kicked off in the night, most likely because the heating was apparently on full from the very warm temperature of the room, and the duvet had bunched up around Lockwood's waist. She didn't want to wake him by trying to find out if anything had happened last night, since he probably never slept with the sheer size of the shadows under his eyes, so instead she carefully got out of bed and picked up her clothes.

Finding all of her things was difficult, since they'd been flung all around the room in what she hoped was drunkenness and not desperation, but after nearly ten minutes she was dressed and reaching for the door handle. She didn't make it that far though, because before she could leave the sounds of somebody waking up started coming from the bed, and Lockwood was asking her where she was going.

“Oh, I just... I just figured you wouldn't want me to stick around-”

“Why would you think that?” He was rubbing his eyes and sitting up, and she had to force her gaze away from where the sheets were dangerously close to revealing whether or not they had slept together.

“I don't know.” There was silence for a minute or so while Lockwood tried to wake up enough to work out what was going on, and Y/n stood by the door feeling very awkward. “Did we... did anything happen? Last night?”

“Don't think so. I feel like I would remember that, darling,” he winked, and she felt her face heat up.

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“You don't seem convinced.”

“No, I am,” she said, very unconvincingly. There was another silence while she hesitated. “Are you naked?” she blurted out, immediately covering her face with her hands to block out Lockwood's shocked reaction. His laughter didn't help, only serving to make her feel more embarrassed than she already was, and she stayed safely behind her hands while she waited for it all to be over.

“No, darling, I'm not naked. But if you wanted me to be then I'm sure we could figure something out.” She could hear the amusement in his voice and groaned in frustration, knowing that he wouldn't ever let her live this moment down.

“I'm good, thanks.” She didn't really mean it, but it was nice to have a friend like Lockwood, and she figured that having sex with him probably wouldn't help to keep that friendship at all.

“Alright. Well if you don't want to see me in my pants then keep your hands there, I'm getting out of bed.” For the most part she obeyed, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't peek through her fingers briefly while he was getting dressed.

~~~

Luckily the other members of Lockwood and Co were not at home when Y/n left that morning, having said no to Lockwood's offer of breakfast (she would pick up something from Arif's, even if it was out of her way a little), and within half an hour she was back in her own house with a very large cup of tea and a plate of food in her favourite armchair in the living room.

When one of her housemates asked her where she had been all night, a suggestive tone to her question, Y/n simply shrugged, and replied “What's it to you?”

~~~

One week later she was running for her life.

It wasn't that this sort of thing didn't happen often, since her job required a lot of running a lot of the time, but normally she wasn't this exhausted from it. She wasn't even working on a case, either. Y/n had just been walking home from her actual case for that night when she'd accidentally taken a wrong turn in her fatigued state and had come face to face with a bunch of Type Twos.

At least she had her rapier and a few flares and salt bombs left, and her boots were solid enough that despite how much running she had already done that night, she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet when normally her soles would be protesting in pain.

“Fuck's sake,” she grumbled, heading for the nearest iron fence she could find. Unfortunately she still had to cross a road that was surprisingly busy at this time of night (or morning? she wasn't sure where the line between the two was drawn) and then vault over the fence into the park, which was probably also infested with Visitors. Going against every action movie she had ever seen she looked back (which was precisely what she shouted at the characters for), then immediately stumbled since she couldn't see where she was going. Her brief pause in her flight allowed the Visitors to catch up a little, and within a few seconds she was seeing her life flash before her eyes and throwing up her rapier in a last ditch attempt to not die.

Then something else was flashing before her eyes, and the ghosts were being driven off.

“Did you miss me, darling?” She didn't even have time to respond, already ducking to not be hit by the bicycle a Poltergeist had sent flying their way, and Lockwood pushed her to the ground to dodge the railing that followed. They landed with a thump, and Y/n winced when her back hit the concrete of the pavement and then again a very brief moment later when Lockwood landed on her.

“I did, Lockwood. I really did miss you.” She hoped that he could see how sincere she was, and he looked as though he was about to say something. Unfortunately he was cut off when a badly-aimed salt bomb exploded right above their heads, and a small “Sorry!” was called out from somewhere nearby.

“Not to worry, George!” Lockwood yelled back as he got off the floor. He offered out a hand and Y/n let him pull her up, holding her breath when he pulled with more force than was needed and she fell into his chest. “Woah,” he said, voice quiet. “You alright?” His free hand had come up to steady her by the arm, and now he was gently stroking up and down. She wondered if he knew he was doing it.

“Yeah. Can we maybe run away from the death bikes?”

“I think that would be a good idea. You going home?” Y/n shook her head.

“One of my housemates has their partner over, and I'd really rather not be there. I was gonna put up with it but if you're offering your bed again I won't say no,” she teased. Lockwood's face went pink, but not from the cold or the running.

“I'm always offering my bed, darling, you should know that by now.” His smile was as blinding as the flash he had appeared in, and then he was tugging her hand and leading her away from the ghosts (which wouldn't be able to follow after a while, since she'd already run quite far from their Sources), and instead heading for 35 Portland Row.

When they made it inside (Lucy was already in bed, but Lockwood and George had been coming back from a case like Y/n), George bade the two of them goodnight, then tiredly climbed the stairs, leaving Lockwood and Y/n in the front hall. It was dimly lit, only the lamp on the hall cupboard providing any reprise from the darkness, and the yellow glow of it made Lockwood look ethereal.

He had dust and dirt all over him, staining his usually perfect white shirt and tie, and his hair was a mess from the slight wind outside, but he still wore his confidence and his charm like a second skin, and he had never looked more like Anthony Lockwood in all the time Y/n had known him.

“What were you even doing out there?” he asked.

“I was coming back from a job, took a wrong turn somewhere, and came face to face with those fuckers. I'm just really glad that you were there in time because I probably would've ended up in hospital otherwise. Or a furnace.”

“I'm glad I was there too,” Lockwood said, stepping forward. He made to move his hand, as though he might reach out and touch hers, but then his fist was clenching at his side again, fingers flexing every few seconds. “I thought you would be alright, really. Then I saw you trip - why the hell did you look back? You always get annoyed when they do that in movies. I was scared, Y/n, that you might not get back up again.” She could tell that he meant it too, from the way he was looking at her. It was almost too much, his gaze, since it was heavy with so much emotion that they hadn't even properly addressed between them, and that was probably why he kissed her.

She both had and hadn't been expecting it.

It made sense when she thought about it, because beneath all the teasing and flirting there was attraction and a real desire, and she had always figured that being with someone was easier if you knew and trusted them. But she had never thought that either of them would act on it, since both of them seemed happy to let the friendship cover up the truth because at least that meant they weren't without the other. Bringing the truth to light could ruin that, and then they might not see each other at all.

Now, though, she wondered why they hadn't kissed before.

It had been brief, a few seconds at most, but it was enough to make her realise that they had been incredibly stupid in not doing it earlier. She had had such a long night - they both had - and when he pressed his lips to hers for the second time she knew that despite the fatigue and near death experiences involving bicycles, they would be alright. Her hands had moved without her fully knowing, and when they pulled away after the second kiss she realised that they were in his hair and clutching his coat that he hadn't taken off yet. His were nestled around her waist, holding her close to him while he searched her eyes for any sign to stop.

The third kiss was the longest yet, and it took them a long time to move from the front hall to his bedroom.

~~~

Y/n had always been a fan of anything that shone, and had been called a magpie by nearly everyone that knew her.

It didn't matter if it was expensive or not, if it was shiny, then she would have it. Growing up she hadn't been used to expense, and finding trinkets on the street was her speciality, but every now and then someone would buy her something a little less on the cheap side, and she would be overjoyed.

Then of course there were the things she bought herself.

The Fittes Ball that she was on her way to had invited agents of all kinds (a rarity for solo agents who usually went forgotten), and her outfit was one of the most expensive things that she had bought yet (other than her shared house). It was worth it, though, for the look on Lockwood's face when he first saw her.

“You look incredible, Y/n/n!” Lucy gushed, immediately wrapping her new friend in a hug. George and Holly agreed, and while their fussing was nice it was Lockwood's opinion she really wanted. They hadn't spoken after the night they spent together two weeks ago, and now he had an unreadable expression on his face while he looked at her. It was ridiculous, really, how nervous she was to know what he was thinking, since she had never usually cared about what any man thought of her.

“Thank you, I love your dress, Luce! And George, are you actually in a suit? No, no, no, you look very nice! Holly, you look incredible as always,” she said, returning the compliments her friends had given her. Her gaze kept darting back to Lockwood though, and after the others had moved away to talk to someone else, he cleared his throat.

“Y/n.”

“Lockwood.” He took a step towards her.

“You know I told you you could call me Anthony.” He had, not long after he'd taken her to his bed.

“Oh, right. I didn't know if that was just... for then.” She was struggling to look at him now, so she missed the way his expression softened.

“It's for whenever, darling.”

“Okay,” she said, and the small smile he gave her made her heart beat a little faster in her chest.

“You look stunning, darling. Truly.”

“So do you, Anthony,” she replied, and this time she took a step forward to close the distance. A frown came onto her face, and when he asked her why she paused for a moment before answering. “What are we? Because we haven't spoken since... since that night, and now we're acting like we did before and I'm just quite confused.”

Instead of responding with words, he dug into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a folded paper, handing it to her a second later. She tried not to focus too much on his hands (the memories of two weeks ago were coming back to the front of her mind now) and took it with confusion, starting to unfold it.

“Oh, I'll be back in a minute, George is calling me over.” He flashed her one of his winning smiles and was off, moving in what she assumed was the direction of George. She finally unfolded the paper and was surprised to see that it was mostly blank, just one question and two little points below it. A pen had been folded into it, and she bit back a smile when she'd read the words.

Would you go on a date with me? Please circle one answer

yes

He was ridiculous, she had decided, but then again she couldn't deny how ridiculously cute it was that he'd written out this mini questionnaire and put it in his pocket, despite not knowing whether she would actually be here or not to take it from him. Why he'd left immediately she didn't know, but maybe he was just too nervous to find out her reaction right away. She clicked the pen and circled 'yes' the best she could with no hard surface to lean on, and winced when the paper punctured. He knew where to find her, but she wrote her address anyway and the house phone number, and refolded the paper. Looking around she couldn't immediately see him, but then she caught a flash of a smile that could only have belonged to one Mr Anthony Lockwood, and she made for where he stood. He blushed slightly when he caught sight of her, then his cheeks burned brighter when she tucked the piece of paper and the pen in the pocket just inside his jacket (standing much closer to him than she needed to), and walked away without a word.

~~~

Two hours later they had snuck into the Fittes building's public library, giggling about something stupid one of the stuck-up snobs who was far too old to still be alive had said while they sipped the fancy champagne that was being served.

“Do you think they get many kids in here? Like, actual kids who would need entertaining?” she asked, making Anthony look round from where he'd been perusing the shelves.

“I doubt it. Why?”

“They've got origami. Look,” she pointed, putting her champagne flute down on a sideboard and picking up a sheet. “I used to be able to make loads of things, but I reckon if I tried making a rabbit or something now it'd look like someone folded a bit of paper a bunch of times and then sat on it.”

“I used to make those snowflakes where you fold it into quarters and cut bits out. Got quite good in the end; I could make chains of them eventually.”

“Of course you're good at making paper snowflakes,” she muttered, no hint of malice behind it. “You're good at everything, I swear.”

“Oh, that's not true.”

“Really? Name one thing that you can't do.” He paused, and she could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “See? You can't do it!”

“Well, I don't think that was very fair, actually, because you didn't give me long enough to actually think about it!” She moved to sit down, picking out various colours of paper squares before settling on one she liked. Anthony sat down next to her, his thigh close enough to hers that she could feel his body heat through his suit. He chose his own square of paper, immediately starting to fold it in different ways.

“What are you gonna make?” she asked him, not looking up from where she was attempting to make an origami butterfly.

“That's a secret.”

“Alright then,” she snorted, “be mysterious. Is that because you're bad at origami and you're trying to hide it by making me guess?”

“Sure, that's what's happening.��

They sat in comfortable silence while they worked, and when Y/n crossed her legs she made contact with Anthony's knee and drew in a breath. She refocused and looked at the paper in her hands, frowning when she realised that she had no idea how to make a butterfly out of it anymore, and sat back with a huff.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just bored, I suppose. What are you making?” He had folded his piece of paper into a thin strip, and now he was pulling the ends together, somehow making them link.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her right hand. She didn't answer for a moment, too busy watching the way his fingers moved. “Y/n?”

“Oh, right.” She let him take her left hand in his, holding her breath for the millionth time around him both at the tenderness of it all and at the way his hands were so cold compared to her warm ones. He lifted the origami up and slid it onto her fourth finger, tightening it by pushing the ends together further.

“You can take it off, if you want.”

She wasn't sure she was breathing. “Are you proposing?”

“What? No, if I was proposing you'd know about it, darling. I just… I don’t know.” He looked nervous, and although he hadn’t let go of her hand, she could see that he was fidgeting.

“I love it, Anthony. Thank you.” He smiled then, small and as under as the way he was holding her hand, and she couldn’t help but ask what she’d been wondering for the last two hours.

“Did you read my response?” Somehow he softened even more, and his grip tightened ever so slightly before he nodded.

“Yes, I did.” Had he moved closer? She thought the distance between them was no longer as frustratingly large as it had been, but he was still too far away.

“Well?”

“Are you free on Saturday? There’s a great place for lunch I’ve been dying to show you for a while now.” He was definitely closer, and she could make out the small scar on his lip in perfect detail.

“Midday work for you?”

They were sat there kissing for a while, not stopping until someone shouted outside the door in drunken laughter, making Anthony and Y/n jump back in surprise. Then they were laughing too, like they were teenagers sneaking off (which, she supposed, they almost were, if you ignored the fact they were legally adults now), and he pressed one last quick kiss to her mouth before he stood up. “We should head out. I’m sure the others will be wondering where we are.” Y/n stood up too, still holding his hand, and moved to straighten his tie. She had pulled on it when they were kissing, and now it was all crooked around his neck.

“I think they probably know that we’re together, though. I doubt that they’re too worried about us.” She finished fiddling with his tie and draped her arms around his neck, and flushed when he wrapped his own arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his body. They stayed that way for a while, just trading small kisses and swaying gently back and forth.

“I’m glad,” Anthony said suddenly, breaking the silence. “That we… you know.”

“Nearly died and then slept together?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I just - I’m glad.”

“I’m glad too, Anthony.” Normally accidents like having sex with her friends was something she hated, but given it was Anthony Lockwood that it had happened with, she was happy to make an exception.

~~~

That night, while Anthony finally managed to sleep next to her, Y/n stayed awake. The glow of the ghost lamp outside had woken her a few minutes ago while she had been surfacing, and now she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her dress hung on the back of his desk chair, and various parts of his suit were slung around the room in piles from where they had thrown them earlier in their haste to be as close as possible to each other.

The ring now sat on Anthony’s bedside table, and although it wasn’t light enough in the room for her to make out its shape, she still knew exactly where it was. Before the two of them got too caught up in each other she had slipped it off, saying that she didn’t want it damaged (as it likely would have been), and when she placed it to the side her eyes had caught on the photo in the frame.

“Is that us?” she had asked, grabbing the frame with both hands.

“Oh… yes. Sorry, it was just a really nice photo and we don’t get to see each other that much, and-”

“Anthony,” she interrupted, warmth flooding her face at her next words. “I’ve got cut-outs from papers that wrote about you framed, so this is perfectly okay.”

She flushed again just thinking about it, and how softly he had smiled at her, and then how softly he had kissed her afterwards. She had been dreaming about him, about both of them, and what would have happened if they had stayed in the library at Fittes for a little longer (a lot of hushed moans and whispered words, and his hair completely dishevelled).

He was the one that she wanted, she was sure of it. There had been others, but none of them had featured in her thoughts about the future like Anthony Lockwood did.

~~~

Months later, when the seasons had gone from wonderfully warm and sunny (or as sunny as England could get) to cold and biting air, Anthony and Y/n were on a case together.

She had officially become a member of the agency not too long after they started dating, and while Lucy and George had originally been worried about the logistics of living space, they quickly realised that their new hire would be sharing a bed with their boss. Y/n had settled in quickly, getting used to how her friends lived within a few weeks, and the company had settled into a nice rhythm.

“A hotel? That’s a pretty big location, shouldn’t we have Lucy and George with us?” she asked as the taxi pulled up to their destination.

“It seems to be contained to one area, from reports, and since they had a couple of actual children give statements I’m going to trust them. Just the outdoor space around the back, apparently someone - a worker, it says here - died while manning a barbecue near the large pool.”

“How do you die manning a barbecue?”

“He fell face-first into the coals, this says,” Anthony replied, waving the paper report around. They clambered out the taxi, thanking and paying the driver, and once the kit had been collected out the boot and the driver was heading back down the road, they were alone.

“Well that’s an awful way to go. Type One? Or manifesting as something stronger?”

“Everything points to Type Two, but that’s nothing we can’t handle.”

~~~

He was right, as he so often was, but unfortunately the way in which they handled the Type Two ghost of the Barbecue Man meant they ended up jumping in a pool.

The Source had apparently been one of the tiles on the ledge, where the Barbecue Man had tripped after falling face first into the coals and cracked his skull open on the edge of the pool. A delightful scene, Y/n was sure, but they hadn’t figured out what the Source was until much later. While she had been scouring the barbecue for any sign of a trigger for the Visitor, Anthony had been drawing it closer to the pool. He seemed to be having a wonderful time taunting the poor dead man, and she couldn’t help but curse him out a little under her breath. “There’s nothing here!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Anthony, I’m pretty sure!” She was just about to tell him off for questioning her when he stepped back on his right foot and made the Visitor shriek an ungodly noise. “Wait! Draw it away from where you currently are!” She wasn’t sure if he’d actually been paying attention to her words since he didn’t give any indication that he had heard her, but a moment later he started moving away, the ghost following him, and she was able to dive for the tile. The second her hands came into contact with it she felt the pain and torment that Barbecue Man had been in in the brief minutes before his death, and at the same time that she managed to dislodge the tile (it had been knocked lose, most likely from his head after he hit it) and wrap it in a silver net, Anthony jumped in the pool. When he surfaced, hair plastered to his forehead and coat and suit completely soaked, he shouted at her to jump in too, leaving the Source on dry land. She just stared at him, but then a rush of cold air hit her and she didn’t think twice. Anthony was waving his arms around, making the water move about enough to fend off the second ghost that had appeared.

Unfortunately that meant that when Y/n attempted to come up for air, she got a face-full of water.

“Anthony!”

“Whoops. Sorry, darling. Here,” he said, offering out his hand. She took it gladly, still spluttering slightly, and they hauled themselves to the opposite side of the swimming pool. The water was freezing, but it was better than being ghost-touched, and besides, Anthony hadn’t let go of her hand yet.

~~~

Her hands were turning a little blue from the temperature of the pool.

It reminded her of when they had been redecorating one of the rooms in Portland Row about two months ago. George had complained that the room was lacking something, and all inhabitants (and Kipps, although Anthony didn’t pay him much attention) agreed that they needed to update it. They had painted it blue, not too dissimilar to the colour of Y/n’s fingers in the present day, and while it had been a wonderful day it had also been the day of her and Anthony’s first fight.

She couldn’t even remember what it had been about now, something stupid and fuelled by external factors such as job stress and fatigue, but Y/n had slept in Lucy’s bed that night.

It had been a while before either girl went to sleep, instead spending the hours attempting to stop Y/n’s crying and watching the old tapes of movies and television shows from before the Problem that Lucy had stashed away on her bookcase. When the morning had come, Lucy had offered to go downstairs and sort out breakfast for them both, so that Y/n wouldn’t have to run into Lockwood, but Y/n had shaken her head, saying that the two of them needed to figure something out.

The moment she had set foot in the kitchen, seeing the back of Anthony’s white dress shirt while he stood at the counter making teas (he had made one for her too, in her favourite mug), she had started tearing up again. He’d heard her sniffling and whipped his head around to see her hovering just inside the doorway, and immediately he had crumbled and rushed over to her, wrapping her in his arms and mumbling “I’m sorry” into her hair.

Now, back from their case with Barbecue Man, they were sat in the library, Anthony pushing a cup of freshly made tea into her hands in an attempt to get them back to their normal colour. “Feeling any better?” he asked, sitting down in the chair next to hers and picking up his magazine.

“Yeah, a bit. I can actually feel things again now, so that’s good.”

“Good. Well, I’ll keep you under surveillance for a while, just until I know you’re better.” She snorted, lifting the mug to her mouth.

“Thanks, Doc. Much appreciated.” His responding smile was enough to warm her up entirely.

~~~

A few hours later she woke up feeling disorientated, most likely because she never remembered falling asleep in the first place. Anthony was still in his chair on her left, but he had fallen asleep too, magazine splayed across his chest. Y/n stretched, yawned, and checked her watch, then started at the time. It was nearly half six in the morning, and they had come back from their case at around midnight. She wasn’t sure how long Anthony had stayed awake watching over her, but she knew that the moment he did finally regain consciousness she would be sending him straight up to bed for another few hours of sleep.

She heard somebody moving around in the kitchen and went to investigate, finding George in an oversized t-shirt and no trousers putting the kettle on to boil. “Morning,” she said, shuffling further into the room and stuffing some bread into the toaster.

“Ah, morning. Lockwood still asleep?”

“Yep. He’s in the library. Did you need him for something?”

“Oh, not really. I woke up at about four and was shockingly hungry, and when I came down he was sat reading his magazine. I was just wondering how long it would be before he was up again.” It made sense for her boyfriend to have stayed awake until he literally passed out from exhaustion, given how little Anthony normally slept anyway, and she frowned when she heard the stairs creak. A few moments later Anthony Lockwood himself appeared in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and smiling like there wasn’t a thing wrong with him only getting about two and a half hours of sleep. “I need the toilet,” George suddenly said. “If you could move out the doorway, Lockwood, that would be great. Thanks. The kettle should be boiled soon, if you two wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all, George,” Anthony replied, already taking mugs out of the cupboard. “Who’s toast is this? I think it’s burning.”

“Oh, shit, that’s mine! Fuck that’s hot!”

“Not hotter than me though, right?”

“Shut up, Anthony. My fingers are burning.” He reached over and took her hand in his, not caring for the piece of blackened toast that sat on her plate on the counter, and pressed a gentle kiss to each fingertip. She had flashbacks to the last time her hands had been near his mouth in a far less family-friendly setting, and tried to stop her knees from giving out.

“Better?”

“Um… I guess. Yeah.” If anything she was worse, since now her whole body was on fire at how sweet that one gesture was. He hadn’t even thought about it, since there was less than a second between her saying her hand hurt and him kissing the first fingertip, and that had her knees weakening all over again. She took a step towards him, threading her burning fingers with his and placing the other one on his chest to grab at his collar and pull him in for a kiss. He’d had a long night, she was sure of it, and the more-prominent-than-usual bags under his eyes were giving her a solid argument. The kiss was short and sweet, and when she pulled back he followed her for a moment before realising that it was over. He pouted, his eyes practically begging for her to kiss him again, and she let out a small laugh before obliging. That kiss was sweet too, but lasted a little longer, and the third one would have gone on for longer still had George not come back from the toilet and pretended to gag.

~~~

“Anthony?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about just… leaving for a bit? Not completely, I don’t think I could stay away from London forever, but just running off on holiday for a while. Getting a break from the ghost hunting and constant threat of death.”

“That’s… really? You want to ask that now? Darling, my mind is not in the right place for an actual conversation right now.” His hand trailed over her bare side and his eyes were looking at everything but her face, proving that he really wasn’t in the right mental place for a conversation like this, but she tried again anyway.

“Okay, but do you?” He sighed, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to meet hers.

“I suppose I’ve never really thought about it before.” He paused, shifting his weight to get comfortable. His legs knocked against hers and his hand hadn’t stopped tracing the skin of her body, and he had never taken off the ring he always wore. It had been a pleasant chill against her earlier when she thought she was going to combust from his touch. “I think because of the company I wouldn’t take a break. And I’d have a lot of guilt about leaving when there are people who might be in danger and I could have helped them.”

“But if you could drive away, would you? None of the guilt, or people getting hurt. Just… going off on your own for a bit.”

“I don’t know about alone. I think I would want you with me, darling.” He punctuated his statement by lowering his voice and pulling her closer by her hips, flush against his body, and although she was tired she couldn’t help but feel warm again.

“I’d be happy to drive away with you, Ant. Anywhere you go, I’m going too.”

“You mean it?” he breathed, eyes looking almost golden in the glow of his bedside lamp. He looked desperate for her answer, like he needed to know that she would truly always be with him because he couldn’t stand being left alone again.

“Of course I mean it, Ant. I want it all with you; everything. The complications and fights and of course all the good things too. The horrible Mondays where we get clients who don’t realise that what we do is a full-time job and we don’t really get weekends, the times we do get days off, and we can just be… together.” She ran her fingertips over his arms, marvelling at the hidden muscles she felt. Given how skinny and beanpole-like he appeared, the first time she had realised how toned he was she had been pleasantly surprised. It made sense, she supposed, since he was incredibly proficient with a rapier and had been from a young age, and being that good meant he had to at least be somewhat physically fit and capable (he was very physically capable in other ways, too, something else she had learned early on). She didn’t think she would ever get over how much she loved his arms, or his hands, or how they looked when he rolled his dress shirt sleeves up and folded his arms against his chest, and from the look he was giving her right now he apparently knew that she felt that way.

“You alright, darling?” Good lord, had his voice gone even lower? His eyes had gone from being a honey-golden to a dark syrupy brown, and if what she could feel against her lower half was any indication she could tell that his mind was back to being somewhere other than their conversation. She sounded out of breath when she spoke.

“I’m alright. Do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Wrap me in your arms?”

“Absolutely.”

~~~

On their one-year anniversary, Y/n woke up early.

She didn’t want to, but the moon was shining brightly through the bedroom window, and there was a gap in the curtains that let the light through. It was landing on the books that had been stacked up on the bedside table, titles just about visible and all of them ones that she had read before. The moonlight was also resting on Anthony’s face while he slept, and he looked like he had in the taxi on that night when they had first met, ethereal and effortlessly gorgeous (but not quite so tired and weighed down by responsibility), and she found herself falling in love with him all over again.

It was probably all forms of creepy to just lie and watch him breathe while she tried to go back to sleep, but there was something oddly soothing about it: the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful expression on his face. It was rare she got to see him so relaxed, the only other times were when he had a day off and was sat in the library with a cup of tea, Y/n sat nearby, or when they had spent time exploring each others’ bodies, hands roaming over skin and through hair while they made love.

The paper ring that he had made her just over a year ago, not long before they started officially dating, was sat on the bedside table next to the stack of books. He’d made her new ones at random points throughout their time together, but the original one that he’d folded from that piece of paper in the Fittes public library had remained in pride of place in her jewellery dish in their now shared bedroom at 35 Portland Row.

Looking at it now she was absolutely certain that he was the one that she wanted, taking him in marriage with a paper ring, putting their pictures in frames to decorate their home, and he was the one she wanted in all of her daydreams.

Anthony Lockwood was her future, and her future was looking wonderfully bright.

lockwood tag list: @anathemaloren, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss (hopefully you get this notification, ik it's been weird recently), @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining (hopefully this works for you too my lovely), @karensirkobabes, @locknco, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @no-morning-glories, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @zoom1374, @light-23, @ahead-fullofdreams

and then I'm tagging @neewtmas, @oblivious-idiot, @bobbys-not-that-small, @maraschinomerry, @uku-lelevillain, and @lewkwoodnco because I've been promising you this for a while and you just didn't know it :D

if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here! I am aware that it has been a while, but from now on I will be checking this post every time I write a new fic to see who is there, so head on over to give a comment or a like and I'll pop you on for next time! <3

#fic rec #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co x reader

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luxthestrange · 2 years ago

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Things Brothers/Dateables Probably has done with Mc Part 4

Mammon wanted an easy way out of his punishments...so you decided to help him...to avoid punishment you gotta threw the punisher off...and that's how Mammon and the younger brothers who were cowering in a corner in front of Demon form Lucifer decided after they again...made more trouble for him to fix

Mam*Waving the younger ones off to run away* I DIDNT WANT TO DO THIS! BUT YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF!! *Walks to the music player and turns it on to a particular song turns around and points at lucifer*

youtube

Luci*Once Mammon is off his lap he starts to move away slowly*....*a look of shock...fear? and confusion as he runs up the stairs*

Mam*Sees that he left*....YOU'RE GONNA LOOOOOOOOOOVE MEEEE!!~

The brothers*Where behind the doors in awe, Asmo & Levi having recorded the whole thing*...

Mc".... I should probably teach this to Diavolo also...when barb's gets angry at him"

HEY IF IT WORKED ON UNCLE PHIL! I CAN WORK ON LUCI AND BARBS!!

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bakubros-boo-thang · 3 years ago

Text

Disrespected Devil

Wordcount: -4K

Lucifer x F!Reader

Summary: When you disrespect the demon king, Lucifer is forced to say goodbye to you.

Genre: Angst, smutt, slight fluff, but tbh just angst

A/N: So another first. Not only my first time writing for the Obey me fandom (I have a major Obey me brain rot), but also my first time writing angst and I felt depressed after finishing this (which I did a second ago). I love Diavolo, but I needed a reason for the goodbye to happen so even if his dad is the villain, he is the one to execute it... Hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: NSFW, mentioning of being paralyzed I guess.

‘’What’s with Luci today?’’ ‘’He looks more pissed of than usual…’’ ‘’He probably listened to classical music too long and forgot his homework.’’ ‘’Lucifer forgetting his homework will never happen, but if it did he would look like this.’’ Hearing all those whispers during dinner time is nothing new for you. Tonight is different though. You know why he’s mad and you know who’s the blame. But it’s not as if you don’t have a reason to be just as upset. As dinner slowly ends you know there is only a small gap to avoid a situation. ‘’Beel, how about we go bake something for later this evening?’’ You say, as you cling onto the huge redhead. You know that food is a trigger and you know that this is the way to hide from HIM. ‘’Alright, sounds delicious!’’ He doesn’t seem to notice the way you hold onto him for dear life and the same goes for the others. Clearly, they’ve gotten so used to you that it’s not even necessary to be by your side 24/7. It’s not as if they know tonight will be the last time they see you. It’s a small moment of weakness and you feel your heart clench by the thought of leaving those boys. It’s enough to make you lose your grip on Beel's arm. Enough to bend over, because it physically hurts to leave them behind and enough for Lucifer to finally notice you and come to your aid. ‘’Beel, I think she ate something wrong. No cake tonight, I will see her to her room.’’

And with that, he scoops you up and takes you upstairs. Of course, your room is not an option. It’s way too close to the other rooms. No place to yell. No, Lucifer’s room is soundproof. Made for his nights spent with loud classical music and also made for the occasional screaming match with one of his brothers. As he enters the room, he carefully puts you down on his bed. ‘’Are you feeling alright, Y/n?’’ He says as he lays his palm against your forehead. The feeling of sadness is gone, already replaced by nerves. You know what’s coming. You know you won’t hold back. Will this be your last fight with Lucifer? The question never makes it to the surface, because the moment you nod your head in ensurement, Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘’Good, because you have no idea how foolish you acted today.’’ As mentioned before this room reminds you of the occasional screaming matches he must’ve had with his brothers, but never with you. Pissing Lucifer off is easy. You’ve done that plenty of times. Even made him show his true form, but making him scream, that is something you never achieved. Still, it is worth the try. Tonight is your last chance. As you get up you take a look at his face. What faces you is the cold expression he usually shows when he’s done with someone’s bullshit. The expression you have already mirrored back to him. ‘’So you are going to ignore me?’’ I’m not going to answer him. ‘’Are you serious?’’ I am not going to say a word. ‘’Should I spell out what you did?’’ Don’t say a thing. ‘’You just signed your death certificate.’’ His voice cracks and even though it’s far from the scream you aimed for. It’s still the first sign of emotion from the man you care about so much. ‘’Diavolo didn’t seem upset by what I said?!’’ You can’t help but talk louder. especially after being silent for the past few minutes. ‘’ As if he is going to kill me? ME?! And ruin the bonds that are being formed with the humans?’’

You can feel the tears in your eyes, this fight might’ve been about you being disrespectful in some way, but for you it was different. All this time getting closer with all the brothers. All this time loving them. All this time being there for them. It made you realize that the only one who made it difficult was him. With every step getting closer to each other; there were always a few steps back. An obsession with keeping up appearance, an obsession over a promise he would keep no matter what, an obsession with being a stuck-up asshole; That was Lucifer in a nutshell for you. And still, you couldn’t help being drawn to him. As a moth drawn to a flame. Even when the flame could easily kill the moth. Just as easily Lucifer could kill you. And it’s not as if he hadn’t tried that before. ‘’Y/n, You disrespected his father. I had to bargain for you to even leave the castle. The first time I trusted you enough to take you with me alone. And this is how you behave? You know what he wanted to do to Belphegor…’’ You know this story is his weakness. The reason he ended up becoming the lapdog of his so-called best friend. Still, it only makes you more upset to hear him say it. Even when you can hear the slightest hint of emotion in his voice; his eyes stay just as cold as usual. ‘’He is your best friend, isn’t he? He is my friend too, right? You always do this Lucifer! You always get mad over things and it never solves anything. You get mad at me for having fun. You get mad at me for trying to help. You get mad at me for trying to get closer to you. You don’t share things with me! Maybe Diavolo should’ve locked me up. Might as well get myself killed; it’s not as if you never tried to kill me…’’ Your voice is loud as you speak, but his silence is louder. He just stares at you and then it happens.

It’s not that you’re scared you’ve seen his true form before. It’s just as beautiful as him, but it’s also something that happens when he’s full of rage, just as that one time he tried to kill you. You can feel yourself freeze under his gaze. You can feel yourself moving away from him until you reach the headboard of his bed. Still, he moves closer. Until his lips are inches away from your ears. No screams, only whispers; what a way to say goodbye. ‘’DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!’’ You are so shocked by the volume of his voice, the bass it carries, that it takes some time to realize he has more to say. Your ear is beeping as he moves his lips away and locks his gaze onto you. ‘’DIAVOLO IS NOT THE FUCKING PROBLEM, Y/N, HIS DAD IS. YOU INSULTED THE KING OF DEVILDOM IN FRONT OF HIS SON AND MULTIPLE WITNESSES. DIAVOLO CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT THAT.’’ Only now do you notice the way his hands are gripping your arms; The way his expression has changed from cold to almost desperate. ‘’That guy has only been able to do what his dad wanted. Our friendship is real, but if his father told him to kill me, he would do it without hesitation. Do you really think he would think twice about killing you? IF HE WOULD KILL ME -HIS BEST FRIEND- IN AN INSTANT?” You notice the tears in his eyes. Lucifer is screaming and crying, but this isn’t a win. Before your heart breaks again, his arms are around you and his face is hidden in your neck, but that doesn’t stop the words. ‘’I had to send you away. I had to be cold. They know I care about you, but not to this extent. I had to pretend it was for the sake of the bonds. After you left I had to beg on my knees for your survival. I had to beg. The avatar of pride begged someone on his knees. It was all Lillith over again…’’

There is nothing you can say to fix this. It might’ve slipped your mind while you were there. But you were surrounded by royalty. What might’ve seemed innocent for you, was clearly a lot for them and now you had to leave everyone you loved behind. You can feel the tears fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry Luci, I truly am.” It won’t help, but it’s the least you can say as you look up into his eyes. He is still in his true form, but even with his wings all spread out, he has never looked more vulnerable. There is a sad smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek. “I know you are, you fool.” He says with no trace of the rage he had before. “ I don't want to leave you all…I don't want to leave you!” You know that you sound like a small child that already knows he lost and that’s exactly what you feel like. “It’s too late for that now, Y/n. Diavolo gave me tonight to say my goodbyes.” You try to distract yourself by focusing on his raven colored wings. “So that means I can’t say goodbye to the rest…” The pain is back. Never being a fool with Mammon, never dressing up with Levi, doing make-up with Asmo, reading books with Satan, eating with Beel or sleeping with Belphie. You can’t help but grab your chest again. “Are you okay?” Lucifer is supporting you within seconds as he asks the question. “No I’m not, but atleast I get to say goodbye to you.” And as you look up he leans in and gives you a tiny peck on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” He lets out. You can’t help but smile as you pull him back towards you. “Let's make it a proper goodbye then.” You whisper as you pull him back to your lips.

It’s not like it’s your first kiss with Lucifer, but it’s the last and that’s what makes it so much more special. It’s the combination of mutual sadness and desperation, the hint of rage still brewing somewhere deep inside the both of you. He knows your body, the way it will arch when he pushes you all the way down onto the bed. The tiny gasps when he starts kissing your neck. The way you look away when he starts kissing all the way down your body. ‘’Please keep looking at me, dear. I want you to see how much I am going to miss you.’’ It’s enough to make your heart flutter, the way he starts to attack your core with his tongue right away. It’s obvious he is in a hurry, but even with all the sadness, it’s the best way there is. You can’t help your moans; You’re lucky his room is soundproof. He’s fast, maybe too fast, but with everything that’s going on, it’s the best you can get. And that’s what it is. The best, because within a few minutes you can feel yourself starting to reach that point. The knot in your stomach tightens. your hands end up in his hair and with one loud moan, you erupt around him.

‘’I know that Mammon claims he was your first… in multiple ways… and not to discredit my brother, but I intend to be your last in all of them.’’ He says as he looks at you while he licks his lips. Him saying those words, the way he just made you lose your mind. It feels good, after all the fighting, teasing, kisses and losses , you’re with the man you love. You don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re really trying, but the moment you hear yourself thinking about loving him, about leaving him, about leaving his brothers, you just break. The tears start to form in your eyes and as you try to wipe them away you feel something on your arms. Lucifer. His eyes are cold again as he moves up to face you. ‘’Don’t hide your tears. I am just as sad.’’ He takes a long look at you, lets out a sign, and lays next to you as he caresses your back. ‘’I don’t want to play the ‘’Who has it worse’’ game, truly, I don’t want to, but in all the years I’ve been in heaven and hell, you’re the first human to have ever make my blood boil. Both from nerves and anger nonetheless, but losing you. Losing the one that made my family whole, the one that makes me feel all these emotions, the one that I love, hurts.’’ You can’t help but raise your brow. when he notices your expression he lets out a laugh.

You feel his hand grab your chin and suddenly your lips are only inches apart. ‘’I know you love me, Y/n. I’ve always known. Falling for you, was what surprised me.’’ You can’t help, but roll your eyes at him. Trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your back. The way it slowly moves it’s way to your hips. ‘’You know I do love all your brothers quite a lot too…’’ You say with all the confidence you have left. ‘’I know you do, but still I am the one that has you laying here. Practically begging for more.’’ He let’s out a chuckle as he pulls you closer. ‘’Let’s end this conversation, there’s not enough time.’’ And with that he’s on top of you. You know there isn’t much time, but when he starts to unbotton his shirt it’s as if time slows down. Of course he notices your looks and can’t help to give you a sly smirk. ‘’Don’t worry your next.’’ Is all he says as he takes his shirt off and starts tugging on yours. After your shirt is taken off he takes a look at your body and all you see is adoration on his face. ‘’I want to see all of you.’’ It makes your body flutter. ‘’You’re absolutely breathtaking.’’ He whispers. All this praise makes you feel weak. You try to grab his face, but as you put your arms up they fall down. You feel weak. Not because of his words, but something else. You see Lucifers expression change, the adorations is switched to concern, then back to concentration and before you know it he scoops you in his arms and makes you straddle him.

He’s looking at you, but not really. Obviously talking to himself. ‘’He wanted to be sure…’’ And as he says it he’s back. Back to giving you a sad smile. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Is all you let out. Is all you can let out, as you feel your body weighing more and more. He notices you getting weaker, making sure your settled between him and the headboard of the bed, before he speaks again. ‘’I think it’s time… Barbatos must’ve cast a spell… something that gave us a time limit. The probably knew it would be hard saying my goodbyes to you. Now I’m forced to make haste, just to make sure you’re safe.’’ You can’t even respond. You can move, but barely and all you can do is watch as Lucifer grabs his shirt. As he moves away from you, you’re sure of it. No this is not the way we’re going to say our goodbyes. It needs to be on our terms. Of course those words never leave your lips, but with all the power you have you reach out to him and as he looks back you let out a: ‘’No...not like this.’’ And maybe it’s the few words you’ve spoken, or the way your arm is trembling from all the power it takes to hold on to him, but he crawls back to you. His face is right above yours and if it’s not your eyes making it obvious what you want, you’re mouth will do. ‘’Take me…’’ It’s not a lot of words, but with the face you’re making and the fact that you guys were just in the middle of it, it doesn’t take much guessing. You can see that he’s thinking about it, obviously worried for you, but you can see his eyes change the moment it clicks.

His wings ar still there and you wished you could touch them, feel them one last time, but you should be lucky by what you can still get.’’I used to be a rebel, so why not know.’’ He laughs quietly before he lays you flat on your back. ‘’I’m going to take care of you my love, promise me to let me know when it’s too much or when you want to stop.’’ You nod your head and you know that your eyes tell him all he needs to know. How bad you want him, how even when you were able to just talk normally, you would want this goodbye to be said only in silence. His body is hovering over yours, his hand touching your neck, giving you goosebumps. ‘’Does this feel nice?’’ he whispers as his hands move towards your breasts. You can only let out a tiny gasp and that tells him enough. ‘’I wish we had more time…’’ Is all he says as his finger enters your core. The moan that escapes you is loader then the both of you would’ve expected. As he continues to stretch you out with one hand, his other starts to prep his cock. ‘’Wish I could… do that for you.’’ You manage to say. You can’t keep your eyes from him. The way he’s hovering over you. His finger inside of you and the way you can’t do anything except for your stares, moans and gasps. ‘’All I want is to feel you right now, my love.’’

And with that he places the tip right in front of your entrance. He makes sure your faces are only inches apart and as he slowly slides into you, his arms make there way to your sides. He’s holding you as he bottoms out in you and the only thing you can do is let out a long moan. He starts moving slowly, tender, putting all his love in every trust. He’s the only one speaking from time to time. ‘’I love you’s’’ and ‘’You feel so good’ s’’ are filling the room. All that praise, all the love in his eyes. The fact that he’s not only literally hitting all your spots, but also the spots in your mind, is what does it for you. You feel yourself unravel under him. You’re so close, that you start to tear up. Your eyes are filled with tears, mostly because of how good this feels, the fact that you’re making love on stolen time, but also because the time is probably running out soon. Lucifer never increases his speed. When he notices your tears he quickly wipes them away and as his hand caresses your swollen cheek he whispers: Don’t cry, my love, let us enjoy these last moments.’’ And just as he is about to give you a kiss on the lips you whisper a soft ‘’Love you Lucifer.’’ You notice his eyes being red as well and it’s devastating, but it feels so good. the way he keeps a steady pace has you reaching your peak and these final ‘’I love you’s’’, the final kisses is all you need to feel yourself tightening around him. He’s close too, because the moment he feels you tighten around his cock he gives you one firmer stroke and that’s all he needs to cum inside of you. He falls next to you and quickly takes you in his arms. ‘’I wish we could stay like this forever. I would sell my soul… but I guess in some way my soul has already been sold.’’ And all you can do is give him a sad smile before your eyes close.

Lucifer knew that it was time. You were starting to feel cold, too cold. After putting on some clothes and making sure you were fully clothed, he grabbed the coin Barbatos had given him. ‘’Use this before the time runs out.’’ So he had warned him for the curse. He knew he couldn’t be mad at his friends. He couldn’t be mad at you, he could only blame himself. He had shown his weakness by loving you. But you loved his brothers, loved him, despite all he stood for, without any shame. And even with the way it felt like he was going to lose you forever, it still meant the world he had the honor of getting to know you. The moment the coin was thrown a portal started to form and as he grabbed your cold body the darkness swallowed the two of you. As he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but darkness. It took a few minutes to notice that he was in a room. It must’ve been yours, because he noticed a picture of you next to a bed. He was going to take the picture, he was a rebel after all. As he tucked you in, he was at a loss for words. So all he could do was give you one last kiss on the forehead. Not being able to stop the tears falling from his eyes. ‘’Goodbye, my love…’’ and as the darkness was about to swallow him, he couldn’t help but leave one more thing behind. A raven feather, just for good measure. Returning to the Devildom was going to be almost as hard as leaving you here. He was once again going to be the villain in yet another story… the story of how he lost you.

You wake up to sunlight. Too much of it. Why aren’t your curtains closed? Wait, you have to get out of bed, it’s your turn to cook for everyone. Everyone? You live by yourself… right? It feels like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. All you feel is sadness. As if you’ve lost something or someone important. The pain hits you so hard that the moment you try to stand your legs give out and you lay on the ground as tears fill your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t know why. As your hands try to find some grip to get up, you feel something soft. A feather. A raven black feather. It’s weird, but it feels comforting. Before you can help yourself, your lips are already on it and even when you should be grossed out by it, you plan to cherish the little trinket...

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selkiewife · 4 years ago

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House of Ladies Day 1: House Stark || Lady Catelyn

@womenasoiaf

( Some meta under the cut )

“I have always done my duty, she thought. Perhaps that was why her lord father had always cherished her best of all his children. Her two older brothers had both died in infancy, so she had been son as well as daughter to Lord Hoster until Edmure was born. Then her mother had died and her father had told her that she must be the lady of Riverrun now, and she had done that too. And when Lord Hoster promised her to Brandon Stark, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match. I gave Brandon my favor to wear, and never comforted Petyr once after he was wounded, nor bid him farewell when Father sent him off. And when Brandon was murdered and Father told me I must wed his brother, I did so gladly, though I never saw Ned’s face until our wedding day. I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty.”

~ A Clash of Kings

This inner monologue is so powerful and nuanced. It is Catelyn’s philosophy of life in a nutshell and yet, there is so much ACHE underneath it. So much anger. Just because Catelyn was extraordinarily good at stamping down her feelings and molding herself into what her family needed her to be, doesn’t mean it was easy or fair.

She was almost her father’s heir, “she had been son as well as daughter.” It is interesting to see that phrase in Cat’s arc. It is something that is present in Brienne’s and Asha’s as well. But unlike Asha and Brienne, Cat’s grooming to be the heir is interrupted by the birth of her brother. Then, when he was born she had to set that all aside.

What else did Cat set aside? We hear her inner thoughts and we become extraordinarily intimate with her, her feelings, and her motivations. But because of the way she is raised, the world in which she lives, and her own sense of complete obedience to duty, there is SO MUCH mystery about her still. Sometimes I feel like there is a lot she doesn’t let herself feel. Especially when you look back at young Cat and the snatches of information we get about that. There is a lot of hints that she might have been much more naturally like Arya as a young girl- playing in the mud and making Baelish eat mud pies until he is sick lol.

It just makes me sad. Because it makes me wonder what Cat would have chosen for her life if she could chose freely? What would Catelyn’s life have been like if a son was never born? Not that I want Edmure to not exist- he’s lovely in the books. But just the idea that the entire course of a women’s life and agency can be determined by whether or not a male sibling is born or survives. Because of patriarchy. Because of duty.

And I honestly think at this part in the story she is beginning to second guess her call to duty- when she thinks of all the pain it has caused her. The whole reason her family is in the mess that they are in is because they were doing their duty to the King when Ned agreed to be Hand. And I love that her first real act of defiance of duty is to save her children- and specifically her girl children, Sansa and Arya. As she says to Robb before when she realizes he will not trade Jaime for them,

"I might have been able to trade the Kingslayer for Father, but . . ."

". . . but not for the girls?" Her voice was icy quiet. "Girls are not important enough, are they?"

Catelyn’s duty as mother of the King is to bend to his commands. But she finally is like, fuck duty and she decides to let Jaime free because her girls are more important to her than duty. But you could also argue that, as a mother, protecting her children is a duty higher than any other. It is interesting that in her next chapter she confronts Jaime who delivers his iconic line about vows:

"So many vows . . . they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other.”

And this sentiment actually sounds incredibly similar to Catelyn’s own speech to Brienne earlier about motherhood,

"As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. Would that there were five of me, one for each child, so I might keep them all safe."

That’s why I find the speech about duty so interesting. Because her sense of duty literally tears her apart. And she is one of the characters that has always been so steadfast in duty and what she “should” do. And yet, her conflicting duties literally tear her apart and are her undoing.

#houseofladies2020 #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #asoiaf #game of thrones #fancast young catelyn tully #layla burns #fancast catelyn tully #rachel skarsten #my edit #catelyn meta #asoiaf meta

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catsnuggler · 3 years ago

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I identify with Anakin and Darth Vader a lot. Yes, I know, they aren't figures to idolize. That's... That's why I identify with them.

I know I've been brainwashed since birth, and Anakin was brainwashed since, well, his childhood, anyway. And while Anakin is a child of the force, he is specifically a child created through the dark side of the force, spawned by Palpatine, my own existence is also owed to an authoritarian cult, though no kind of magic was involved in conceiving and birthing me, lmao. We were both raised to believe authorities were right, that what the world needed were wise and just leaders making decisions so others wouldn't have to worry about that, and so the "sinful" wouldn't be elected (I wasn't a full-on theocrat, but I had brainworms back when I genuinely believed in the cult; obviously, my stances have changed considerably since then). We both lost our mothers, and we both grew up in worlds with rules we couldn't in our right minds obey, raised by and alongside people who couldn't understand us.

Anakin fought a literal war with which he became disillusioned, just as he cane to be with those in his own community. Mormons are drilled into believing they are fighting a spiritual war against "The Adversary" and "The World", though the way to win this war is to convert rather than physically kill. I also became disillusioned with the "war" I was raised in. I also grew up during the War on Terror, as 9/11 happened only about 4 months and a week after my 3rd birthday, and I was tempted to one day join it, myself (thank fuck I didn't).

In a nutshell, the point where Anakin and, particularly, Vader and I split off, is on whether we chose to at least believe in liberty, or authority. Now, even Vader hates slavery, but he supports an empire which still deals in slaves, as Anakin supported a republic which tolerated slavery. Putting that aside, Skywalker chose to bend the knee, literally, to tyranny. He did so by degrees, but there obviously came the make-or-break, final choice, and he chose the side of tyranny. Well, he eventually rescinded that, once and for all, but you know what I mean. On the other hand, though I hypocritically don't do shit for anarchism yet, I chose to at least follow anarchism in my heart and mind, instead of fascism, in no small part thanks to my friends, and one in particular.

Doesn't mean I'm a paragon of morality. I've made mistakes. I've hurt people. Not Order 66 level, by any means, but... like Vader, I believed for a long time that I was guilty of something unforgivable, even though I wasn't guilty of it, it was just something that happened, that I thought I did, but didn't actually have the ability to do. However, because of the conditioning I've gone under from cult authorities, I was inclined to believe I had done it, and it deepened, for years, the belief that I still struggle with today: that I'm barely helpful, if helpful at all, with anything good and worthwhile, and am only good at hurting others.

Like me, Anakin, and later Vader, wanted to lead others, but found himself becoming nothing more than a follower. Now, a difference is that I've embraced the "kill your idols" philosophy of anarchism to an unhealthy extent; while I don't worship figures like Marx, Bakunin, Kropotkin, Goldman, Zinn, Bookchin, viewing them as figures who had good ideas, but also faults, some rather major, I also find it hard to view anyone as a role model, which leaves me rather directionless. Despite my rejection of a figurehead, however, I am still subjected to the follower mentality; I view myself as a follower, not an agent, of anarchism. I have replaced following individuals with following movements. It's certainly not wrong to believe in something, at least depending on what that something is, but to reduce oneself to a mere follower, while only granting the freedom of agency to other people, is hypocritical, and actively, universally harmful to oneself. This is also a result of conditioning. America told me I have agency. My father told me I have agency. The cult told me I have agency. With their words, they reminded me I have agency. But they also told me I don't have agency. My father called me a slave, sometimes playfully ("We're going to work like slaves on this house!"), sometimes angrily, even going so far as to say he is "The GOD of this house!". America is authoritarian in ways that are probably already manifest to you if you've been following me all this time. The Mormon/LDS cult emphasizes we have agency to "choose the right", essentially whatever the prophets tell you you have to do. You also have agency to sin, but "to know God and turn your back on him" can and will, without "repentance", lead to "apostasy", and from there to "outer darkness", essentially Mormon Hell.

Anakin and Vader were what the Jedi and Sith told them to be, and, having been enslaved, so to speak, in one way or another, since childhood, when he was literally a slave, he eventually lashed out and betrayed those who had raised him in some cage or another, but he didn't do so in a healthy way. Anakin rebelled and became Vader in a way that enslaved the galaxy and killed countless innocents, while also scarring and disabling himself. Vader's rebellion, which returned him to his original identity as Anakin Skywalker, was ultimately - immediately, in fact - an act of rebellion which cost him his life. It was justified, but it was nonetheless harmful to himself, even if he had finally restored his self, his individual existence, and his moral agency, in his self-sacrifice. I was what I was told to be, until I eventually rebelled, and it's been nowhere near as costly, but it was also harmful to myself.

Again, I know Anakin's/Vader's tale is one of caution, and not a path to idolize and follow, save for the belief that it is never too late to restore oneself, to heal, to choose to be good. But I know this because I also lost my way. In some ways, I was lost from my first breath. This is why he is close to my heart; I'm lost, because I was misled, and I need to find my way. I hope I will be more successful than he was. More successful and without facing nearly the same costs.

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years ago

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The Other You - 5

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Marinette set her phone back on her desk, suppressing a long sigh.

Deep down, she knew it was unfair of her, but part of her was somewhat glad that Alya was worried about her whereabouts. For the past few days, she had been receiving a constant string of texts, first asking if she was okay, then wondering if she was safe. In the end, Alya began to beg her best friend to at least give her a sign, confirming that she was, at the very least, alive.

But Marinette couldn’t.

The wound was too fresh, the hurt still too vivid.

She didn’t want to go back to their apartment, a home where questions never ceased, where she couldn’t focus on her already withering career without being guilt-tripped. Marinette snuck in only once after leaving, at a time she knew neither Alya nor Nino would be home. And only because, as the Guardian, she couldn’t leave the Miracle Box at a place she no longer lived.

Her daily phone calls with her parents went by quickly, telling them she was staying with a friend, looking at different options and reevaluating her life. Aside from that, she ostensively ignored a thousand calls from Alya and a few hundred from Nino.

But no matter how much her friends were worried about her, no matter how her parents thought she was making all the wrong life choices, Marinette knew that pursuing her lifelong dream was worth it in the end. Reaching the goal would make it all worth it.

She had to pull through, had to continue even if it killed her in the end. She had to carry Gabriel Agreste’s work beyond the grave and prevent his up-to-no-good son from wrecking years of sacrifice, late hours of work, and lonely holidays. Gabriel’s first women’s line was almost ready to launch, and she had sworn to herself that everything would go smoothly even if there were a few sacrifices to be made along the way.

And now that the goal was so close, almost in her hands, she couldn’t imagine giving up on it. So, she ignored the stubbornly chiming little device on her desk and got back to work, trying yet again to figure out what her former boss had intended to do with a particular design.

A few hours later, she dropped her pen on her desk, holding her head in her hands. It was no use. The fire in her veins was drowned out; the inspiration was gone. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t envision what Gabriel had been trying to convey, what his intention with that final design had been.

She grabbed her sewing shears and started cutting through some fabric she had laying around, trying to empty her mind from the constant nagging, the constant wondering about whether or not her late boss had intended Design A to be flirty or Design B to be sassy. She lost herself in the cutting of the best quality cloth, her fingers running over the fibres with reverence as she lay them against the dress she was currently working on. Maybe seeing the samples on the dress itself would help her understand?

“Long time no see, Princess.”

Marinette almost jumped out of her skin upon hearing those words, her shears falling to the floor with a clatter. She spun around, ready to fend off the intruder with her very life should the need arise.

The sudden motion after what little food she had eaten in the last few days made her dizzy. The room wobbled around her, and her limbs felt unbearably heavy. A familiar face came into view, one that looked oddly out of place in her office, one that she only ever saw on random rooftops these days.

Despite being happy to see him, she opened her mouth to ask him to leave, to put her partner back into the ‘superhero life’ where he belonged, where he couldn’t witness firsthand the mess her life had become. But her lips refused to obey. Her legs gave out underneath her, and everything went black.

The next thing she was aware of was strong arms holding her upright in her office chair and something wet pressing against her lips. Marinette suppressed a surprised cough as cold water filled her mouth, bringing her back to her senses. Warm fingers covered in leather gently stroked her cheek as a familiar voice spoke to her.

“Marinette? Look at me. Are you okay?”

She choked out half mumbled words, her head still spinning. Her eyes managed to focus on a vivid patch of green—Chat Noir’s eyes.

“Ch… Cha… W—”

Marinette tried to get up, but he was quicker than her, forcibly holding her shoulders down. “Easy there, Tiger. That was a pretty bad fainting spell.”

She looked at him through her hazy vision, focusing on his soothing voice. “How… How long was I out?”

“About five minutes or so. Come on, I’m taking you home. You need a real meal and a few hours of sleep in a bed.”

She gave a disheartened laugh. “Good luck with that, Chat Noir. You can’t take me home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the hero argued stubbornly. “You can’t weigh more than a few feathers; you’re barely skin and bones. When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

She didn’t answer, instead averting her gaze away from him. His proximity was beginning to mess with her head. Her entire being craved his comforting touch, the familiar safety of his arms. Chat Noir wasn’t done with her though, as he gently nudged her chin up, worry written all over his handsome face.

“You’ve lost an awful lot of weight, Marinette. Please, please tell me you’re not starving yourself to look like those unhealthy models placed all over Paris. You’re a very beautiful woman. You don’t need to go to such lengths to feel attractive.”

His tone was earnest, gentle, and any other day, Marinette would’ve thought Chat Noir’s concern was nothing short of adorable. That night, though, she was way beyond exhausted and had apparently just wasted a good amount of precious time she could’ve spent working.

With a frustrated groan, she eyed the mess on her desk. “Don’t worry about me, Chat Noir. I’m fine. I have a housing issue to solve, but right now I’m just running short on time. Those mockups have to leave first thing in the morning, and I can’t afford to miss the deadline.”

He looked almost shocked. “Are you saying you have nowhere to go?”

“I’m fine, Chat—”

“You are far from fine, Marinette. Where’s the bubbly and adorable teenager who shared her cookies with me on her balcony a few years back?”

“You don’t understand, Chat. I have to make this work. Failure is not an option.”

He grabbed her hand. “Why are you putting yourself through this insanity? I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Marinette. Any fashion empire in France would be happy to have you. This entire company is going down in flames, and everyone’s already abandoning the sinking ship. Why are you staying?”

“Because without Gabriel Agreste behind me, I’m no one in the industry,” she cried. “I don’t have anything worthy to put on my CV. How do you expect me to find a job like this?”

“But… You went to ESMOD, didn’t you?”

“I never graduated. Gabriel found me and offered me a paid apprenticeship instead of wasting my time on school benches. It seemed like the perfect solution back then. I would get an early start in the industry without racking up student debt,” she sighed, her head hanging low. “But now, without a degree to show for myself and with Gabriel gone…”

She trailed off, but Chat Noir seemed to understand what her entire problem was, because he breathed softly, “Your only chance to prove your worth in the industry is to make sure his last collection is a hit and gives you the recognition you deserve.”

“In a nutshell, yes.” Marinette looked to the side, tensing. “And as if that wasn’t enough, his nut-job of a son is back in my life.”

“Not a fan of the younger Agreste, I take it?”

Marinette snorted inelegantly, shaking her head dejectedly. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

Chat Noir flinched, but now that the gates were open, Marinette couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to close them. He was still kneeling in front of her, looking at her with those big, kind eyes that always made her weak in the knees, and for a fleeting moment, she forgot about everything else.

Like she had done countless times before, she raised her hand to cup his cheek tenderly, losing herself in his intense gaze. She didn’t hear Chat Noir’s surprised hiccup, nor did she realize it was the very first time her bare fingers were touching his skin.

“You know what the worst part in all this is, Chat?” she said, unaware of the sharp intake of breath from the man before her because she shouldn’t be that comfortable, that familiar with him. “I used to be friends with Adrien. I would’ve done anything for him, would’ve gone to the moon and back just to put a smile on his face. But he betrayed me the first chance he got, tried to sabotage my dream for no good reason. He…”

Her voice broke, and she choked back a sob, tears rolling unbidden down her cheeks. Chat Noir surged forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace to try and appease the pain she failed to contain. What he didn’t account for, though, was Marinette’s current state of mind. She needed her partner more than anything at that moment. Her entire being was yearning painfully for his comforting touch as a wave of affection for him washed over her heart.

Without thinking, the absence of the red spandex suit long forgotten, Marinette tilted her head, her eyes fluttering closed. Her lips found his easily in the semi-darkness of the room, and she found solace in the familiar scent of his cologne, the comforting feeling of his muscular arms holding her close to his broad chest. His lips were a little chapped, and he tasted of coffee and the salt of her tears, and Marinette had never felt more at home than in that moment.

For a brief and blissful moment, his lips moved in harmony with hers, making her heart soar high. Then, Chat's entire body went rigid beneath her hands and just as fast as it had begun, it was over. His hands wrapped around her wrists and pried her hands from him as he jerked back with a startled gasp, staring at her with a shocked expression. His lips moved a few times without any sound coming out of them, before he managed to hoarsely choke out, “Ah—shit. I’m sorry, Marinette. I shouldn’t have—”

Hearing her own name roll from his lips in such an unfamiliar way brought her back to her senses, and the weight of what she had just done crashed on her all at once. Her heart felt like it was bursting at the seams, unable to contain the contradictory emotions fighting within it. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, her cheeks still wet from her earlier tears. “You love her, don’t you? Ladybug?”

Oddly enough, when Chat Noir nodded with a fiery blush spread on his cheeks, Marinette felt her heart torn to pieces in her chest.

“I have to go, but I really want to help you here, okay? I owe you for all those cookies on your balcony years ago. I’ll… ah… I’ll figure out something and come back as soon as I can, okay? I’m sorry—try to grab a bite to eat while you wait for me. You’re as white as a ghost.”

“Chat…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he took a step back, his hand clenched tightly around his staff. Had he seen her expression change? Was he suddenly unable to bear the sight of her? Before she could say anything, he was gone without another word, an open window being the only proof that he had ever been there.

Breathless, her heart pounding almost painfully in her chest, Marinette plopped back into her chair, unaware of the tears running freely down her face. In the oppressive silence of her office, she whispered to herself, “Shit… I broke my kitty, didn’t I?” before letting out a loud sob.

The only thread tethering her to sanity was now threatening to break.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #ML #adrienette #the other you #enemies to friends to lovers #angst with a happy end #myart #my art

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monotonous-minutia · 4 years ago

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DORILLA IN TEMPE (in a nutshell)

(contains spoilers)

Cast:

Dorilla, a princess, in love with Elmiro (soprano or mezzo-soprano)

Elmiro, a shepherd, in love with Dorilla (mezzo-soprano)

Nomio, Apollo disguised as a shepherd, also in love with Dorilla (mezzo-soprano)

Admeto, the king, also Dorilla’s father, presumably single (bass)

Eudamia, a nymph, also in love with Elmiro (mezzo-soprano)

Filindo, who apparently doesn’t get a title, in love with Eudamia (mezzo-soprano)

Act I

(A pasture outside the palace)

Elmiro: Dorilla! I love you!

Dorilla: Elmiro! I love you too!

Elmiro: Well glad we got that established right off the bat, usually the mezzo has to battle a little bit more.

Dorilla: Nah, you’re cute.

Elmiro: But what if…this was all a dream and you didn’t actually love me.

Dorilla: Oh, come on now.

Admeto: UGH I JUST GOT THE WORST NEWS

Dorilla: Elmiro, hide before my dad sees us hanging out together! He doesn’t know about us!

Elmiro: Fiiiiine.

Dorilla: So, dad, what’s this terrible news?

Admeto: I just saw this giant snake hanging around the shore and it’s destroying everything in its wake!

Dorilla: That’s terrifying! But don’t worry, I’m sure the gods will protect us.

Admeto: Well, we’re about to find out. I’m going to consult the Oracle to see what we need to do.

Dorilla: Ooooh can I come?

Admeto: Sure, let’s get going. Oh, hey, Nomio.

Nomio: Good morning, your highnesses. Dorilla, don’t you look lovely this evening?

Dorilla: I do, don’t I? Come on, dad, let’s go.

Nomio: Wait, so what’s this about a giant serpent?

Admeto: Yeah, there’s this monster hanging around and it’s starting to terrify everyone.

Nomio: What if I killed it?

Admeto: HAHAHAHA

Nomio: No, really.

Admeto: Well, sweetheart, if you were to kill it, I would certainly come up with some grand reward for you.

Nomio: Cool. Consider it done.

Admeto: Sure, kid, sure.

Nomio: Now that they’re gone I can reveal my true identity. I’m actually Apollo in disguise. I’ve come to Earth in another form to pursue my love. I do this a lot. Which obviously doesn’t invalidate what I’m feeling right now. And what I’m feeling is a great love for Dorilla, even though she’s obviously taken and has no interest in me. But that’s never stopped me before! Maybe if I kill this giant serpent, she’ll fall in love with me.

(In a sacred hollow)

Admeto: Oh sacred Oracle, we call on you to grant us your insight.

Oracle: Oh, that snake? Yeah, you gotta feed it your daughter, then it’ll leave you alone.

Dorilla: WHAT???

Admeto: Oh, the horror! My poor daughter! Well, you heard the Oracle. Come on, Dorilla.

Dorilla: Dad, seriously? You’re not even going to fight this?

Admeto: I’m a king, not a miracle worker.

Dorilla: Alas, my wretched fate! But I suppose it’s the duty of a royal daughter to obey and sacrifice myself for the good of the kingdom. On a side note, you’d think I’d get an aria here, but I don’t even get that. Sigh.

(Back in the pasture)

Elmiro: So what’s the big news?

Dorilla: Well, there’s a giant snake and apparently it has to eat me.

Elmiro: WHAAAAT NOOOOO

Dorilla: I KNOW RIGHT

Elmiro: There’s got to be something we can do!

Dorilla: Well, if you think of anything, let me know. I have to go get tied to a rock now.

Elmiro: Omg this is just the worst. I have to find a way to save her.

Eudamia: Heyyyy beautiful.

Elmiro: Not now, Eudamia.

Eudamia: Come on, aren’t you done giving me the cold shoulder yet?

Elmiro: For the last time, I’m not playing hard to get. I legitimately do not like you the way you like me.

Eudamia: That’s just rude.

Elmiro: It’s the truth. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go save the girl I actually like.

Eudamia: Ugh, men.

Filindo: Eudamia! I love you!

Eudamia: So you say.

Filindo: Aren’t you tired of Elmiro rejecting you over and over? Why don’t you return my affection?

Eudamia: Well, I never really said I didn’t, did I? (Hmm, his devotion might actually come in handy.) How about this: you spy on Elmiro for me; let me know what he’s up to. Then I’ll let you take me on a date.

Filindo: That’s kinda sketch, but sure.

Eudamia: You’re the best!

Filindo: YAAASSSS she likes me!!

(On the shore. Dorilla is tied to a rock.)

Dorilla: Oh, gods, in my last moments, can you not spare any pity for me and my people?

Nomio: I CAN (he slays the serpent)

Dorilla: OMG

Admeto: OMG YAYY MY DAUGHTER IS SAVED

Dorilla: SEE DAD I TOLD YOU THERE’S ALWAYS A LOOPHOLE

Everyone: THANK THE GODS WE HAVE BEEN SAVED

Nomio: Ummmm….over here? Anyone? Anyone?

Act II

(Back in the pasture)

Dorilla: Elmiro!

Elmiro: OMG DORILLA YOU’RE ALIVE

Dorilla: Yes Nomio saved me!! Now you and I can live happily ever after!

Elmiro: Wait, Nomio? You mean that super hot shepherd?

Dorilla: …yes?

Elmiro: What if you go all damsel-in-distress on me and fall in love with the person who saved you?

Dorilla: Oh my god, stop being such a jealous tenor, there’s a reason they wrote you as a mezzo.

Elmiro: Right, sorry.

Admeto: Hey honey! I’ve got great news: you’re marrying Nomio.

Dorilla: Uh, since when?

Nomio: Since I saved your life from the serpent!

Dorilla: I didn’t realize that was part of the deal.

Admeto: Well, it’s only fair. It’s not like I could let you marry a lowly shepherd.

Dorilla: And what exactly is Nomio?

Nomio: A lowly shepherd who just SAVED YOUR LIFE

Dorilla: Okay, fair, but…

Admeto: What’s the matter? As far as I know, you’re not dating anyone.

Eudamia: Actually that’s not true! Filindo, tell them what you found.

Filindo: Um…

Eudamia: Do you love me or not?

Filindo: OKAY FINE so uh I kinda saw Dorilla making out with Elmiro a while back.

Admeto: Dorilla is this true???

Dorilla: Um well are you really going to trust everything that Eudamia says when she obviously has a crush on Elmiro too?

Filindo: Wait she WHAT

Admeto: OKAY WHATEVER I really could not care less. Dorilla, you’re marrying Nomio. End of story.

Dorilla: BUT DAD I DON’T WANT TO

Admeto: I think we established pretty early on that your happiness is not my biggest priority. Now, everyone, let’s put together a big celebration to honor Nomio, since he saved everyone and is going to marry my daughter.

Nomio: Dorilla, will you join me?

Dorilla: Well, I’d rather not.

Nomio: y tho

Dorilla: I’m just not in love with you. Sorry.

Nomio: WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME ugh

Filindo: Eudamia, what was up with that? You said you’d go out with me if I helped you, but this entire time you were making me help you get with Elmiro?

Eudamia: Filindo, my heart is hurting, okay? Leave me alone.

Filindo: I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME

Eudamia: I never actually said that.

Filindo: FINE I’M DONE WITH YOU WHO NEEDS YOU ANYWAY I’M GOING TO GO CRY I mean I’M GOING TO GO HUNT YOU KNOW KILL SOMETHING LIKE REAL MEN DO WHEN THEY’RE SAD

Everyone: Bring on the food and bring on the hunt! Let’s celebrate the marriage between Nomio and Dorilla!

Dorilla: I guess it’s just going to be a thing huh.

Elmiro: Dorilla, run away with me!

Dorilla: OMG ABOUT TIME

Act III

Admeto: OMG Elmiro ran off with my daughter!!

Filindo: Don’t worry, your majesty, I’ll find them!

Eudamia: Um, what?

Filindo: You wanted me to break them up, didn’t you?

Eudamia: What has gotten into him?

Nomio: I FOUND THEM HERE THEY ARE

Admeto: Dorilla! How dare you disobey me and run away from your husband!

Dorilla: BUT WE’RE NOT EVEN MARRIED YET BESIDES I DON’T LOVE HIM I LOVE ELMIRO

Admeto: OKAY THAT’S IT ELMIRO YOU’RE GOING TO BE SENTENCED TO DEATH

Elmiro: Alas my love! Don’t weep for me! Or, well, do a little so I know you loved me, but not, like, forever.

Dorilla: NO I WOULD RATHER DIE WITH YOU THAN LIVE WITHOUT YOU

Admeto: What the heck is going on?

Dorilla: I refuse to marry Nomio! Just kill me already!

Nomio: OMG THAT’S THE LAST STRAW I AM ROYALLY CHEESED OKAY YOU’RE GOING TO DIE AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE

Admeto: You don’t actually have the authority to do that, Nomio.

Nomio: YES I DO I OWN THIS PLACE

Admeto: But you’re just a shepherd??

Nomio: …oh. Right. Uh. Excuse me for a minute.

Eudamia: Elmiro, do you really want to just die for the sake of Dorilla? What about me?

Elmiro: Look, I’ve told you, I don’t love you. You’re a cool person, but I’m in love with Dorilla, okay?

Eudamia: FINE THEN JUST DIE

Dorilla: GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD

Everyone: OMG DORILLA JUST THREW HERSELF INTO THE RIVER

Elmiro: OMG JUST KILL ME NOW OKAY IT’S NOT LIKE THINGS COULD GET ANY WORSE JUST REUNITE ME WITH MY BELOVED

Nomio: EVERYONE SHUT UP okay so I’m actually Apollo right so I’m a literal deux ex machina and I just saved Dorilla and I guess I just have to bless the marriage between her and Elmiro because, you know, True Love™. Also, Eudamia, just go out with Filindo, okay? We all know you have a crush on him.

Eudamia: Okay, fine.

Filindo: FOR REAL?????

Eudamia: Yeah, you’re pretty cute.

Filindo: Yeah I am!!!!

Elmiro: Dorilla, my love!

Dorilla: Elmiro, my love!

Nomio: Well, I guess it’s back to Olympus for me.

Everyone: Dude literally no one cares we all know you’re going to be doing this all over again with another girl next week.

Nomio: …that’s fair.

Everyone: HOORAY FOR TRUE LOVE TODAY IS A GREAT DAY

The end

#sorry i had to #Dorilla in Tempe #Antonio Vivaldi #Antonio Maria Lucchini #opera #Baroque opera #opera tag

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amysubmits · 5 years ago

Note

When is D/s or DD the most difficult? Like which rules are the most challenging to obey and how do you overcome it?

None of my rules are hard for me to obey in general. When it’s hard to follow my rules it’s not really about the rules, it’s always something else.

I think in a nutshell, when I struggle with submission it’s because I’m struggling with vulnerability. I have a deep need for accountability so if CD isn’t consistent with watching if I’m following the rules, I feel abandoned on some level, and that hurt I feel causes me to reject vulnerability and struggle to follow the rules. The first year and a half or so that we did DD, he struggled to be consistent and I acted out a lot more than I did after he became more consistent.

But anything that impacts my security with feeling vulnerable can have an impact. So that includes ‘negative’ things like stress, mental illness, feeling hurt, scared, or insecure in any area of life, PMS, etc. But it can also include a lack of positive things like if we haven’t had enough time together for me to be emotionally vulnerable or to feel our emotional intimacy then that can have an impact on how freely my submission flows as well.

How do I overcome it? Well, in some cases I might ask for leniency. Like if I’m physically not feeling my best or am having some mental health or stress struggles I might ask to be cut a break to make more time to relax and recharge. Sometimes we think that is beneficial and other times we think it’s more beneficial to stick to our rules so it just depends. But if I need to power through despite my feelings? I tend to think about CD, what my submission means to him, or how I’ll feel better about myself if I behave. Or how CD shows up to take care of me even when he doesn’t want to. Or sometimes I think about how much being punished would suck. Or how badly deliberate disobedience breaks CD’s heart, how it harms our relationship. It doesn’t always make completing the chore easy, sometimes I drag myself through my chores as if thre are cider blocks tid to my feet. But i’m always glad that I did the right thing once it’s done..and submitting when it’s hard requires vulnerability, so just pushing through it helps me to ‘remember’ that vulnerability is safe in my relationship. So just sticking with it can assist with getting back to that place where vulnerability fels good again. In other words, it can correct our course somewhat just by being obedient.

#asks #domestic discipline #d/s

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funkymbtifiction · 6 years ago

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More about Rowling

Very interesting post about Rowling. However, I wonder - is there no Fi in her writings/communication? She really seems to have a strong sense of her own values and they don’t seem as if they are easily changeable or coming from the external. She believes strongly in bravery and courage - so she throws those sorts of traits at her favourite characters and themes into the entire series. Marietta Edgecombe gets permanently maimed at the age of 16. Yes, she behaved in a cowardly and disloyal fashion. However, she also was being instructed by her parents to obey the new Hogwarts rules. I don’t see anything admirable in her character, but many kids would have done the same. Rowling’s response was simply “I loathe a traitor”. I don’t disagree on her Ne usage - even now she seems to enjoy coming up with alternate ideas(like the cursed child) or twitter comments wondering if she was correct about Ron and Hermione ect. She’s IMO definitely a nostalgic SI user though when you consider her fervour in campaigning for Scotland remaining part of the UK back in 2014. Her HP books are so incredibly British, it’s clear she’s very attached and has a strong sense of idealism around it, its history and mythology ect.

I don’t see Fi-dom, no.

For example, here’s a basic description of a Fi-dom’s novel:

“Crime and Punishment focuses on the mental anguish and moral dilemmas of Rodion Raskolnikov, an impoverished ex-student in Saint Petersburg who formulates a plan to kill an unscrupulous pawnbroker for her money. Before the killing, Raskolnikov believes that with the money he could liberate himself from poverty and go on to perform great deeds. However, once it is done he finds himself racked with confusion, paranoia, and disgust for what he has done. His moral justifications disintegrate completely as he struggles with guilt and horror and confronts the real-world consequences of his deed.”

Notice anything? Yeah. It’s all about Fi/Ne things – the internal moral struggle within in a philosophical sense. Fi is nuanced / subjective emotional thinking, a sense of morality invented within oneself, and at odds with the morality of the world. This novel is all about a character exploring the evil within himself. Not the good, the evil.

Does Rowling write that kind of book? No, not really. She shows / tells you early on who the bad kids are and sticks them in Slytherin as easy freehand of remembering who is good in that school and who isn’t. It isn’t until she reaches the end of the story with Snape that she somewhat redeems the House of Slytherin. Now, her black and white thinking is heavily influenced by her being an Enneagram 1w2 so/sp, but it’s still evidently Fe. IMO, the Hogwarts Houses is Fe driven judgments (broad, based on behavior and traits she sees as “bad”) and Ti (categorizing them simply into different houses).

Further evidence of her Fe is in how intolerant she is of anyone who doesn’t feel what she wanted them to, when reading her books. Rowling has a direct writing approach that influences how you are meant to feel about her characters, and she does not like it when her readers go off script. She has shamed Draco Malfoy fans and told them they have no right to like Draco because he’s “bad.” In doing so, she is displaying unhealthy Fe – you either feel what is “appropriate” to this situation given the context of his behavior, or I shame you for it in public. :(

To add on to this a bit, if I write a character into a book and the audience does not respond to them how I would like -- which for me, means understanding the outside forces [Te] that drive them to make this decision [Fi] and show tolerance for it even if they don’t agree with it -- then my automatic thought is, “What did I do wrong in writing it?” Rowling’s is “what is wrong with YOU that you didn’t get it?” That’s Fi (me) vs Fe (you) thinking in a nutshell.

- ENFP Mod

#jk rowling #isfj #infp #mbti #submission

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goldenkookietaebae · 4 years ago

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So, um where do I start? Umbra, yes. OMG, there are actually no words (ironic that this is so long lol) that I can use to describe the level of mind blowing it is. I have never seen such an intricately woven fanfiction series that has been written down this beautifully before. The last time I was this hooked onto a series it was Harry Potter and that was so long ago. I am not kidding when I say this could actually be a published book series and damn, it would be a Bighit (nvm the pun lol). You’ve covered so many genres already, there’s mystery, adventure, romance, little bit of humour, fantasy, this is literally the whole package.

And can we talk about that battle scene? Usually, the battles that I’ve read have too much violence, blood, gore so I skip through them (I don’t mean they’re not good, just a personal preference) but here, omg it was so damn intense and so well written, it actually had me imagining the whole setting and literally every move everyone was making. It is one of my favourite parts. And then the gradual change in the mc, from how she just obeys orders to the point she starts to question why and starts to realise she deserves to be treated with respect, that journey is so smooth, and none of her changing thoughts came off as too abrupt.

And not that I don’t like male leads in strong positions, BUT I’ve come across so many of those that it just feels a little disappointing when it’s always the guy saving everybody at the end of the day, but here, the power that the mc has and the way she fights (istg, when I read that my mind went “this is what I’ve been looking for”) and finally gets the recognition in this chapter, so satisfying. And Ehmerald’s narration of the past was so amazing I had goose bumps by the end of it.

Now that there is another war and a rebellion in motion, I am so damn excited (legit there have been moments where I stopped to scream because the story was so good) and also thankful that you’ve decided to share this with us. As I am writing this I actually remember so many more amazing moments in the story that I could go on for hours but this is already too long damn. I could hardly rest until I was done reading all the parts. But in a nutshell, I love it (all of your works actually) and I am v v v v v v excited. <3

Umbra; 14

➜ being ruled by an ancient commandment, your sole purpose is to serve. you were born to protect the king with your life, tied by an everlasting oath; you are nothing but a shadow, a silent and insignificant being. he appears to you like the sun, the warmest and brightest star in the sky, and gives you a chance to live. it is then that your entire universe starts to orbit around this sun, and you decide that you are truly willing to die for him.

pairing: King!Taehyung x (f) hybrid!reader

genre: royalty au, fantasy, angst

warnings: descriptions of violence, blood and death that might be triggering.

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

➜ Chapters: check up masterlist in bio!

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itslitlils · 7 years ago

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The Frivolity of Time and Learning to Forget About It

The average human lifespan is 79 years, and for my sake we’re going to round that up to about 80. Technically speaking, it’s only a year, so it’s not like it matters anyway. I am currently age 20, meaning if I live to age 80, I have already made it through 1/4 of my life.

I know what you’re thinking, “1/4 isn’t really even that much, and where is this going?”

And, to that I say, “Hear me out, you’ll find out soon enough.”

I have a fear of time, there’s your answer. It’s unreasonable and inescapable. No matter where I go, or what I’m doing I am always conscious of how time seems to lightly caress my cheek only to turn its back and prance away. It’s a never ending cycle, and it’s tantalizing and draining. For one to constantly think about their time and how it is currently being spent, how it has been spent in the past, and how it may be spent in the future is massively draining. This is not a feeling to be confused with being conscious of how your time is spent for the sake of time management, which is a skill I wish I had. No, this is more like drowning in a sense of loss and inadequacy.

I think this over quite often. I am 20, and for 20 years I have had practically all of the shots called for me. Between school, having a mother I respected deeply and obeyed, and other “minor age” things, few choices were left to me. However, when I graduated and college rolled around, I had say so. Not just, I want vanilla ice cream. No, this was bigger. This was, “I’m going to ULM despite the fact that I feel called to YAC. But, I have reasoning, I have a plan, and God will understand.’ My decisions were “I’m moving out and signing all of the papers on my own.” Those are massive steps for any 18 year old, I just happened to slip a few times, and that’s okay. That being said, only 10% of my life, thus far has been big decisions, and somehow for 50% of THAT time, I managed to screw up. All of this to say, if my first 20 years seem so pointless, what about the next 20, then next, then the last 20?

Will I spend the next 20 years working only to accomplish goals that would last for a maximum of two weeks each? (I plan on travelling and things of the sort, having a bomb af career etc.) What do my goals and dreams require, and how long will it take me to get to a point in which I can finally grasp them? Where will I find the time to fit in having a family and being the mom I would hope I could be? My assumptions say it may not be just 20 years, but more like 35-40.

You know what that means, don’t you? It means, according to my calculations, I will only have the last 20. This is age 60-80. I will more than likely retire in my mid to late 60s, like most other people. Meaning, I have 10 to 15 years left for whatever I please. Will I be too old by then? What if something goes wrong? What if I don’t spend enough with my kids or grand kids? What if I don’t have enough retirement funds to do what I want? What if? What if? What if?

And there lies the problem in a nutshell, What if? What if leaves too much room for possibility, and that goes for good and bad. Don’t misunderstand me, possibility is a good thing, but you need to have little more control over it than, “What if?”

Most nights, I am up because I’m terrified of wasting my time, but it’s in those moments that I have to remind myself that it will be okay. God has a plan, and ultimately, it will always be better than mine. Those are the facts. My best days are when I seem to forget that Time dances around me with light footsteps and frivolity. I say all of this to tell you that you need to be happy with where you are and where you’re going. It’s something, I’m still working tirelessly on, but I am improving. Remember to take a moment and smell the roses or enjoy the drive rather than checking the travel time. Sometimes, the best way to spend your time is by putting everything on pause, no matter how much that little child is crying and begging you to keep going and get stuff done.

I hope this makes sense, because everyone deserves a break from time to time. I’m learning that. I hope you’re looking to learn too.

-Lily

Song of the Day: Growing Up, The Maine

#April 18 2018 #The Frivolity of Time and Learning to Forget About It #Personal blog #growing up

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luxthestrange · 2 years ago

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Things Brothers/Dateables Probably has done with Mc Part 3

For All the Obey me Latino's out there I just remembered this scene from an old comedy skit show, So image Levi is tired that mammon hasn't paid him the money he owed him and LatinxMc decides "Enough is Enough" and told him HOW to finally get mammon to crack and give him his money...Leviathan finds you humans more terrifying day by day

So every time when mammon comes back from the house, every time he thinks he is alone in a room after he evaded Levi calling his human to fetch him a drink, every time he gets ready to take a bath, He turns the tv on...there Levi, At the window of the hotel room you and him were staying up in the human world YOUR GUESS WHAT YOU WERE DOING- In Halloween he dressed as an angel to surprise him at a club-, Leviathan IS THERE SINGING "you owe me, you owe me, you owe me and you have to pay me~"Over and over again...

youtube

Yes, he got that maid outfit from Barbatos YES YOU RECORDED EVERY TIME LEVI APPEARED TO HAUNT MAMS-

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theintuitivewildflower · 7 years ago

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How to embrace your authentic self:

An Intuitive Wildflower’s Story of Becoming

April 2018, will mark a big life event for me; my one year anniversary of the beginning of this Blog! It has been a life changing endeavor for me and I’ve been asked to share some of my story. Upon giving some thought to how I learned to embrace and love my authentic self, unconditionally I came up with a list; this made me realize how much work I’ve done on my own self over the past two years. This blog has helped hold me accountable to my personal development goals. I am so very thankful and proud that I didn’t let anyone talk me out of this dream because I made it a reality. It’s empowering to be able to say that I went against the grain and didn’t give up. Here I am, at 41, still growing; and while starting to write my story recently, I discovered that there are 10 main ways that I was able to embrace being myself. This is my story.

A lot of family members, obviously unsure of where I was going with this ‘blog thing’, as many of them call it, wanted to know just how I had determined that I am, in fact, a Wildflower. “What’s this Wildflower stuff all about?” they’d ask. I think a few even phoned my mother about it, possibly hoping she might shut it down; I’m guessing they were worried about how it might reflect on the family. However, mom, knowing me best, knew that would only fuel the fire. When I started this blog, I was smack dab in the middle of my awakening to purpose, the fire was already burning hot!

Sadly but gladly, I have learned that family isn’t always the most inspiring support team. I’ve discovered that sometimes family is who you need to prove wrong, declutter from your life and if often who you needs to be inspired the most. If it weren’t for my mother’s unconditional love I probably would have quit blogging within the first month. However, her acceptance of me is what allowed me to push forward when I wanted to quit; when it was scary and uncomfortable to be putting myself out there. The lack of understanding and support from others caused me to really put some thought into the following questions:

“How long have I been this intuitive wildflower?” I wondered.

When I consciously try to think back into my childhood and try to remember as far back as I can; I ask myself “how long have I been feeling this way; feeling like I understand most human being’s; often more than they know or understand of themselves but to personally feel very misunderstood by most people.

“When and where did I first begin to notice that in a field full of pink roses; I was a Wildflower?”

I blended well with the roses and fit in just fine socially but there was something just a little different about myself; I noticed this as early as first and second grade. I always wondered why my classmates didn’t care so deeply about things like me. I would ask questions and they would ask me why I cared or why it mattered to me. I couldn’t answer that; I just knew that everything mattered to me.

When thinking of myself as a child and how I was perceived by those around me these are the thoughts that come to mind. I was the youngest child, a daughter with an older brother, a daddy’s girl, a tom-boy, an athlete, inquisitive, bright and full of energy. That would be me, as a kid, described in a nutshell. However, when I try to think as far back as I can about my own perception of myself as a child, I remember much more. This is some of what I remember:

…..you could find me as a school-age child, outside, climbing trees with the neighborhood kids on my block in Grandview, Missouri. I could usually be found playing kickball, collecting bugs, having lemonade stands or playing cops and robbers! You might also find me playing Barbie or using my imagination to play games such as; “teacher”, featuring myself playing teacher to my Strawberry Shortcake figurines (my class). I vividly remember that I liked to delegate tasks and tell people what to do, my friends usually. I feel this was because I was the youngest child and was usually the one being delegated to and bossed around at home. I was also competitive from the jump with my cousins and friends; I remember being very fond of contests and competitions and not just in sports or school. Where ever my friends and I were headed I would be the first to say “let’s race”….and off we’d go. If we were doing cartwheels, I was challenging everyone to see who can do the MOST; if jumping rope, I was announcing that we were timing who jumped the longest. I feel this competitive edge was something conditioned in me early on by my families traditions, beliefs and high focus on competitive sports. This brings me to the start of my list of ways I embraced my authentic self.

1. I realized that this very characteristic, being “bossy”, that might have been annoying to others when I was younger, is now, the very thing that allows me to help others find their own purpose. Learning to encourage and coach rather than boss and delegate has allowed me to be an accountability partner to others. It is precisely the way in which I am able to inspire, empower and push others to their personal limits while being true to who they are. This gift was always there it just takes time to sharpen our skills and gifts sometimes. I was aligned with my purpose before anyone ever had an opinion; I believe this to be true for us all.

For much of my childhood and into my awkward adolescent years, then, through high school and into college; I was playing some kind of sport, competitively. There were times, growing up, when I felt like my value to the family was directly related to my performance or achievements in competitive sports. I was a good kid and I did what I thought all kids did; obey your parents. However, even though I could play several sports very well, my favorite thing to do as a child, teen, young adult was to write. Still to this day, my favorite past time is to creatively write. As a young girl, I carried pens, pencils, notepaper, coloring books, markers and loose leaf paper with me almost everywhere; to church, to visit family and in the car on trips. Writing is what I was doing on a rainy, boring Saturday; poetry, song lyrics, lists, brainstorming, practicing my signature or writing a story of some kind. Creative writing was “my thing” but I wasn’t really encouraged to do it; but it was allowed. Any chance I got to put the glove, bat, balls, cleats or kicks away and replace them with some poetry, a story or a picture to give someone else; I took it.

2. I kept this love for writing from childhood to now and it has been my life line more than once. When I found myself in a toxic relationship after a divorce, writing was what kept me sane. As isolated as I was, writing kept me grounded somehow. It seemed to keep me tethered to my soul even when the tether rope seemed more like a frayed tiny thread about to break; it kept me hanging on; proving to me again that writing is aligned with my purpose.

After my son Noah was born in 1998, I was blessed to be a stay-at-home mom. This is when I discovered my passion for gardening; more specifically wildflowers. I wanted to have my own field to let wildflower’s grow wild on. When Noah was 5 years old, we bought a five and a half acre, mini farm and transplanted all my plants from Grandview to the farm yard and watched over the years as they spread by seed, becoming larger patches of color in the yard each year. I was amazed to learn how wildflower’s spread by seed and each year there are more to enjoy or share. I have this obsession with daisies, cosmos, primroses, sunflowers and just about any perennial plant. I love seeing a field next to a highway that has been taken over by wildflower’s during the Spring or early Summer, in Missouri. That is truly a beautiful sight to me; I will drive around on a lazy Sunday just to find some to admire! As I have gotten older it has been so cool to visit friends and family that got starts from my first house years ago and they can now, years later, give me starts back to begin in a new yard. When I got divorced and was starting over I was able to go get starts from friends who had started their own patches of wildflower’s from starts I had given them! It is residual beauty; proof that planting one seed can start a whole garden and then many more gardens; even more amazing is that, one wildflower can spread many seeds!

3. I never wanted the perfect potted plants lined up neatly. I wanted the messy, colorful wildflowers in my garden. I liken Wildflowers to people. I don’t want to know people just like me; that think like me, dress like me and share opinions with me. I see beauty in diversity and always have. I do no not understand judgment of others. I believe one of the best ways to learn who we are, is to know and have relationships with people that are different from us. Again, it became clear to me that Wildflower’s don’t care where they grow and that this too shows I am aligned with my purpose.

In 2006, my daughter Abi was born and she is my miracle baby. Her father and I experienced 5 miscarriages between our two children. When she arrived we were so happy to have a healthy baby girl. She is my baby wildflower, no doubt. She is opinionated and inquisitive like her mother. She amazes me with the way she thinks every day! Late one winter night, when she was sick, we watched my favorite Disney movie, Alice in Wonderland. Anyone remember the snotty roses that were whispering and judging Alice for being different? "Do you suppose she is a Wildflower?” they said. The wildflower connection resonated with me again! I realized, I’m Alice, so-to-speak. It was here I really started to embrace that was a human wildflower. I had been through some painful experiences and those seem to make you a little more empowered to be true to yourself. You start realizing that you have been your very own best friend a lot; you start to appreciate yourself for it.

WHO WANTS TO BE IN THE STUFFY THORNY ROSE GARDEN TIED UP TO POSTS OR A TRELLIS AND CONDITIONED IN HOW AND WHERE TO GO?? NOT I!

I prefer to grow old being wild, free, still learning and raising hell when I want to. I try to always stay mindful about being aligned with my purpose, helping others; I can do that just about anywhere. I’m about as battered and bruised from the strong winds of change that one wildflower could be but apparently God made me super resilient. I’ve loved hard, gotten hurt; even caused some pain of my own. I had to learn to let go of my own guilt and shame that I was carrying and then, forgive myself. Only then, could I forgive anyone else. Finally releasing negativity that I’d been holding inside until it was toxicity flowing through my veins, allowed me to move forward and feel worthy of fulfilling my purpose. The negative self-talk had to go for me to get where I needed to go.

4. Learning from our past rather than living in it, is one of the best ways to apply lessons we learn along the way to our authentic self. I had to forgive myself before I could truly forgive anyone else.

I always loved music from my parent’s generation. As a teen, I felt they wasted their lives by missing Woodstock. They shake their heads when I mention this, as that is so not their style. If reincarnation happens I am pretty sure I was there dancing somewhere in the crowd with a sundress and tambourine. I have always done things differently than my family has. I have no problem thinking outside the box especially now that I have embraced my authentic self. Wildflower would have been my hippie name at Woodstock and for that reason and the others that I am sharing with you today, it became my social media name for my blog as well.

Today I am 40. I still don’t fit in but I don’t want to. I kind cringe at the thought of it now. I’m not one to worry a lot about what people think of me because I’m usually worrying about someone else. New people I meet do not know what to think of me. I think much deeper into things than most; typical of an INFJ personality type. Less than two percent of the population are INFJ, which explains why we feel so misunderstood all the time. We try to see every side and angle and for an INFJ personality type there are at least 8 sides to everything; INFJ’s will entertain each and every one.

5. When no one seems to understand me or where I’m coming from, music always does. I love and express gratitude for it on a daily basis. Music has kept me going when no one else cared or even knew I had a need. Music has a healing power to it and I have always related to various artists and genres. Just like people, my taste in music is diverse. Music connects people, music touches the soul, speaks in frequency and word; MUSIC HEALS!

At 40, I discovered I am an empath after being in a relationship with a narcissistic personality type. I finally understood why strangers want to tell me their life stories and why my intuitions are so strong and annoyingly accurate. I can often feel a person’s vibe right away; their pain, sorrow, joy and love. When there is hate in the room I can feel that too; it has a strong energy. A lot of folks just need someone to be there and the empath friend is usually that person. We get drained carrying our energy around plus yours and whoever else we walk by at Wal-Mart or church or anywhere else. However, once I began to see it for the gift that it is I began to express gratitude for it and I began to use it to fulfill my purpose. When I discovered this about myself I also became a sponge for information about this gift and what it means to have it.

6. I’ve been able to gain strength in knowing that my purpose it to help people. I have just had to learn the hard way that you cannot push a rope uphill. You are no help to someone who rejects your help, won’t help themselves, meet you halfway or is focused on what they can TAKE from you. I have had to face the fact that I am NOT Jesus and everyone is not meant to be saved by me.

Another reason it seemed natural to refer to myself as a Wildflower in my blog or to write as #theintuitivewildflower is that I have been saying since about 1995 that I belong among the Wildflower’s thanks to a Tom Petty song, Wildflowers. It just touched my soul in a way that I don’t think any song ever had before or has again to this very day. I always felt just like the song says, still do

“You belong among the wildflowers,

you belong in a boat out at sea.

Sail away, kill off the hours;

you belong somewhere you feel free….”

It resonated very deeply with me as a Senior in High School, I was making big decisions about my future, my career and my life within my own head. Meanwhile, my folks were also making their own plans for me. Eighteen is that age when you are ready to execute your independence and leave home but you are still a little uncertain about your ability and the opinions of those who love you most, still play a big part in your decision making.

7. I wanted to declare at 18, that I knew who I was but I hadn’t yet embraced my authentic self. I also realize if I had, that I wouldn’t have been ready to fulfill my purpose the way I am meant to. I would not have had the many life lessons that prepared me for my calling. My purpose was literally born from my pain, mistakes and hurt. Therefore, when I finally mustered up the strength and courage to start sharing my story at 40, I had to get really comfortable with being uncomfortable. When I realized that my message, my story and my pain were all part of my purpose; amazing things began to happen in my life! Empowerment came to me when I embraced the fact that there was a purpose to my pain and so I began to write about it and my healing process.

The original blog title was ‘Where the Wildflower’s Grow’ and was started partly to hold myself accountable to my personal growth after ending a toxic relationship; to keep my promise to myself that I would not go backwards in my life anymore! It was a way for me to help heal myself, to get my voice back, to stay no contact with the ex and to help other women in similar situations begin to heal too. I had been held down emotionally for several years. I recognized the fact that I was in no way a model, public persona or public speaker. I knew that everyone was going to see me at my worst if I chose to move forward with this and thankfully, the empowered me, dove in head first; knowing it was now or never! I’ve discovered that the more I write and meet people through my blog; there are so many people in need of empowerment, inspiration, love and healing. They have a variety of hurts that I want to help or encourage to heal, then, find and fulfill their purpose. I can’t limit it to just one group or one type of trauma; I just know my purpose is to help people when needed in some kind of way and that is my “WHY” for continuing my Adventures of a Wildflower blog.

8. Self-belief and recognizing that my story mattered was the result of choosing to focus on personal growth and healing! I stopped noticing my flaws and noticed this new empowered woman I had become. When I decided other people and their healing were more important than my frizzy hair, adult acne, crow’s feet and past; I evolved. I got closer to my authentic self and I started to shine! I knew that everyone was going to see me at my worst if I chose to move forward with this and the empowered me dove in, head first; knowing it was now or never! This started to empower others.

It was the most major and empowering milestone move of personal growth, the day I started this blog experience! What I realize now, at 41 years of age, is this; growing up, it wasn’t that I was so different in anyone else’s eyes, I was the average, active, sporty type and participated in the usual activities youth are usually offered to choose from. I felt different within myself because I was always thinking so deeply and feeling so deeply everything around me. I asked questions about everything and remember thinking, as young as 8 or 9 years old, that my friends were just plain wrong for thinking “I don’t know” was an acceptable answer to anything I wanted to learn more about. I wondered why things that mattered to me didn’t seem to matter to anyone else. I was pretty confident and I’ll praise my parents for that. I wasn’t really an introvert early on, I was fairly outgoing and often comical if comfortable enough in the crowd around me.

9. KNOW THYSELF- C.G. JUNG…. To be committed to learning and knowing who I am was the best advice I ever took. A good friend told me to do this the year we both turned 40, as we discussed our birthdays and the feeling that there was something that changed for us both then; we felt as if we wanted to chase whatever was missing! He recommended I take the Meyer’s-Briggs personality test to begin the process. Now, knowing I am an intuitive empath and an INFJ, the rarest of personality types; it all makes sense! I now understand why I grew up feeling like the black sheep of the family or the big yellow daisy in the middle of all the dainty pink roses. Had I not discovered these traits about myself I may have mistaken them for anxiety or OCD or another mental health issue. On the contrary, I learned that I had been gifted these traits and they were directly aligned with my purpose and calling! I would never want to numb them.

Lastly, my blog was created to prevent suicide and raise awareness for the need of empathy, compassion, understanding and acceptance regarding Mental Health Issues and Disabilities; to provide education, inspiration and a place to discuss these topics peacefully.

On my facebook page, you will see that I offer my time. I know what it feels like to feel different, misunderstood, judged or taken for granted, to be mentally drained from feeling so deeply and caring so much; also to fail more than once. My time is for you: the other wildflowers that are always out there spreading sunshine and planting seeds of love in a hateful world. You are so strong but on weak day there is no one to give you sunshine or water to grow. It’s not because they do not love you. They don’t understand the depth of your love and kindness. So whether you are drained empath in need of boost or an empath unaware that just read this and thought, maybe I’m an empath too. Maybe you are an eccentric free-spirited Wildflower in need of some sun; if you feel alone come here. You are always welcome and I promise to have something posted up to uplift, motivate, encourage or empower you to keep going every time you visit.

10. Putting a plan to purpose! It doesn’t matter how or where you start putting a plan to your purpose. Once you discover it, you will feel obligated to start practicing things towards fulfilling it. That’s just what you see me doing here! I know what it is like to be so strong that no one would believe you could be weak! I know you need the kind of friend for YOU that you are to everyone else. I feel you friend, I do. If you need to reach out and just don’t know where to go…….come here! If my shoulder or words are not enough I will personally assist you in finding a resource that provides just what you need!

In the blog, I discuss the importance of positivity, self-development, business, healing, mental health and the healing power of music. As an amazon affiliate I share this link with you and you can find some of my very favorite resources, books and music pertaining to topics such as this! https://amzn.to/2DQKVc2my

I hope you will follow along with me on these Adventures of a Wildflower as I just totally put myself out there in hopes to find some other wildflowers that need a garden to grow in; a safe place to come and recharge or relax so you can remember:

YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL, UNIQUE AND YOU HAVE A PURPOSE JUST AS SPECIAL; IN FACT, YOU WERE MADE FOR IT!

Peace, good vibes and One Love,

Karyn Dee #theintuitivewildflower

Dedicated in honor of John Michael Dutcher

who was, without a doubt, a very strong and most beautiful wildflower with the most precious soul!

#theintuitivewildflower : tumblr, pinterest, G+, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and linkedin

#theintuitivewildflower FEED YOUR HEAD!! (with help from Amazon)

In my blog, Adventures of a Wildflower, I discuss often the lack of readers we have in the world today. As an adult, I have had people say they haven’t opened a book since high school. That needs to change. Rediscover something good for you today. Feed your head with Amazon’s kindleunlimited package. https://amzn.to/2DQKVc2my

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