#all of this has led me bruised and battered emotionally

[bluepandadraws-log]

The stuff that's been happening in the vtuber fan sphere and the digital circus sphere today is genuinely so fuckin' hilarious bruh, Imagine being punched in the face three times, and then Pomni Digital Circus comes along and give your bruised and battered mug a small smooch and all is right in the world

[ascendantevolution]

The Necessity of Duality

Much of the focus of my spiritual growth over these last years has in some shape or form touched on non-duality. It began with being guided to observe instances of polarity - the simplified areas of judgment that snag every living human: black versus white thinking. Male versus female. Christian versus Muslim. Straight versus gay. Religion versus science. Spirituality versus dogmatism. Need I go on?

That focus on duality had led to a profound exploration of dark versus light. In turn, I have been guided to see them not as points of opposition, but as points of balance. My growing understanding has led to a dismantling of an almost innate fear of darkness. In turn, it has unlocked a new and profound perception of the world.

I have been standing between worlds, 3D reality and the spirit world, all my life. In my naive past, I saw them as being 100% exclusive of each other, an either/or perception, which forced choices between them. I found myself veering into the spirit world every once in awhile, sometimes suppressing it (out of fear), and choosing the (imbalance) of staying anchored in the 3D. My shifting perspectives on dark and light has led to a profound need to pull toward the middle.

The middle presents an alternative to either/or thinking: stand in both worlds, to take Spirit into 3D reality, and to bring reality into my spiritual work. As such, this morning, my tarot reading was more clear than ever. Non-duality showed up with a clear message about being authentically human while insisting on being true to my spiritual nature and calling. It was a call to refuse to split the two.

You may be asking, What’s the point?

When we choose to walk the middle path, life becomes easier. The either/or split of mind or heart instead becomes a guiding of the mind with the heart - balancing our perspective, helping to guide us, moment to moment, away from oversimplified judgment to discernment. Discernment provides a profound clarity that can guide us through the minefields of life where we are expected to pick sides or are pressured to be something that we are not.

The polarities lead to dysfunctional agreements within a culture rife with a vested interest in keeping polarities alive and well. As long as we are kept fighting, living in fear, suffering, shaming and feeling ashamed, we are powerless to step fully into ourselves as we are meant to be in life - fully self-actualized and living with purpose.

Perhaps an example would be helpful.

I have been on the spiritual dojo mat more times than I wish to count. I have been bruised and battered and humbled. In trying to carry spirituality into my 3D world, perhaps my greatest sparring partner has been my relationship with one of my parents. Background: I have suffered a lifetime of being disempowered by someone who is supposed to love me most in the world - my mother. My ego has reacted in so many ways, some of which I am embarrassed to admit. Much of that reaction has been as a result of the on-going, toxic relating. The conflict that has been the central point of my struggle in being a so-called “spiritual person” has been as the result of oscillating between two polarized ends of this painful issue.

On one end, I was psychologically and emotionally abused, not only as a child, but into adulthood. It took me decades to see that, every time I had an interaction with my mother, I would walk away injured and slip into a depression for the the following weeks. The result of continuing to put myself in harm’s way was a self-defeating, self-sabotaging, self-destructive streak that was ultimately as a result of seeing myself as a victim. Who had the power to make it stop? Me. And only me.

On the other, polar end was a culture that demands a sense of duty and obligation to parents and family, no matter what. Well, in our culture, physical abuse has become an acceptable reason to part from family. Psychological abuse can be just as insidious as physical abuse, and yet, we are supposed laugh off painful, passive aggressive “jokes” and ignore terrible comments and behavior because “that’s just how your mom is.” The scars of prolonged exposure are deep and impact how I “do” life. And although my counselor was helpful to me warming up to the idea of my eventual divorce from my mother, I avoided the thought because the thought, all by itself, induced a weighty guilt that was just too great. I mean, how can one abandon their parents? That’s a sin, isn’t it?

Finally, as with many other things that I have viewed from one end or the other, or swung wildly between, creating emotional and therefore physical and spiritual instability, I finally realized that there was a space in the middle. No longer sitting in the victim polarity, I decided that I would no longer accept abuse, which meant I had the right to protect myself from my parent, which meant that I couldn't be around her. On the other polar end, I was finally able to reconcile that I the only duty I ultimately have is to myself. I can no longer be beholden to a culture that accepts abuse as a norm in an effort to keep the peace and families together. I have no duty to a culture that does not recognize my pain and my need to be free of it.

The middle path helped me to find a calm and “spiritual” perspective that allows for all factors to coexist in honest reality, from what lies in the polarities to everything in between: The abuse happened, and my suffering has led to greater wisdom and empathy in many ways, and the abuse can happen no more; my mother is a deeply troubled individual with her own wounds, and she does the best she can with what she has, and for that I feel great compassion, and I can no longer allow the abuse to happen because she refuses to work to heal herself; I can see the silver linings, and I can love her unconditionally and with gratitude for all that she has given me that has been good, and the abuse can not be allowed to happen any longer.

Similar lessons have brought me to the middle, especially in the arenas of man versus woman and religious versus scientific. By finding the value of both ends, and all that stands between them, I find myself appreciating the benefits, hindrances, and balance of it all. I also can now clearly see that, when my ego sinks into duality, I suffer. I slip into self-doubt because I am subject to the judgments of those who are invested in living from the polar ends. As much as my fellow victims may be mystified by my audacity, as much as my culture may shame me for my choice, I cannot betray myself anymore. We are not meant to live in doubt of ourselves.

Non-duality means rising above 3D vision to observe the truth of situations, to take an accounting that is objective, to judge without being judgmental, to be free of the heat of explosive, emotional reaction. In the end, it is a freeing gift.

© Estara Merit, 2024

Photo by Kourtney Gundersen

[fenrir-wolf-of-gotham]

Ayo!

🤬, and ❤️‍🩹? For whoever you would like to answer for?

-@redwingedwolves

All aboard the Whump train! Next stop 144 Edbrook Avenue.

🤬: Cass and I haven’t gotten into any really major nearly relationship ending arguments but we’ve caused a lot of arguments. Bruce was a bit of a “touch my daughter and I kill you” kind of father and that led to a confrontation between him and Cass while they were patrolling about letting Cass live her life how she wanted to. The fight turned from words to physical quickly and Cass ended up swinging away from a bruised and battered Bruce. So of course, the news ended up blowing up what amounted to an hour of in costume fighting into a completely theoretical major scandal in the Batfamily. The issue was resolved and Bruce apologized but there was a week where Cass didn’t know if she was going to have to crash in my bed permanently.

❤️‍🩹: Neither Cass nor Steph has hurt me emotionally but I know that Steph had hurt Cass emotionally before we got together. Cass had been under the impression she’d been moving out of the friend zone and was waiting for Steph to ask her out when Steph got a new boyfriend: Kyle Mizoguchi. That upset their relationship for a little over 2 years. During that time, Cass and I got together. That helped Cass get over the issue but their relationship didn’t really heal until Steph and Cass confronted the issue.

[bukojuiice]

farewell, my dark knight. — diluc ragnvindr

ೃ ft. diluc x gender neutral! reader

ೃ 6k words

ೃ tags and warnings: angst. a sweet and lovestruck diluc. reminiscing memories with him. he writes you letters and talks to you about his day. he’s very soft and he’s very much in love with you.

ೃ requested by anon:  “hi! could i request a diluc x reader, in which diluc dies from a mission, and as reader is cleaning out his room, they find letters neatly packed into drawers, and with closer inspection, they are letters diluc wrote to reader every day, so when he isn’t around anymore, reader can read them and not forget about him? sorry i’m a sucker for angst and your writing omg” (thank you for this request! and for making me cry while writing it! <3 i put a lot of work into this, so i hope everyone enjoys!)

ೃ genshin impact masterlist

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡ (please like and most esp. reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot!)

They say all your senses and your feelings are heightened when you are broken and mourning.

You hear things more clearly like the tenderness of his voice because it’s better than listening to the drum of your heart.

You feel the sun, the air, and his gentle touch on your skin because you are trying to feel things instead of shutting down. 

You smell his perfume and the scent of the pancakes he used to make- everywhere. 

You still feel his fingers as though they are knotted through yours and it makes you cry.

It hurts.

It pains you. 

This is the most tragic day of your life.

“Sir Diluc has.. passed away.” Jean announces, reaching for your hands and squeezing them in support. She pulls you inside a spare and lonely room in the Ragnvindr manor. Lisa is at her side, for extra emotional support, handing you a spare handkerchief as they break the news to you. 

Your heart sank. 

You were not the first to know. But, even if you were… there was no possible way.

 You were a traveling adventurer in search of something that will quell your curiosities; disappearing for days or weeks on end. There were times when Diluc would come with you on your travels and the two of you would just go wherever your heart desires. Staying in Qingce Village and mingling with the elderly townsfolk, Visiting the Adeptus abode, strolling around Springvale or vacationing in the summer islands… there was nothing that could stop the two of you together. 

As two of the heroes of Mondstadt from the Stormterror incident and his status as the esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery, you were famed and loved by all. Though as Diluc was not one for friendliness or casual interactions with others, It was all because of you that he had befriended some particular members of the Adventurer’s guild and the Knights of Favonius. You had even asked them if they could visit the Dark Knight hero at the winery from time to time. 

Well, aside from the regular visits of Venti and Kaeya to satisfy their quench for wine, Jean accompanied by Amber and Lisa to ask for advice, uncommon visitors such as Klee and Albedo had even come by to accompany him now and show him their wonderful new experiments and discoveries….

 You had given him a reason to have hope in the people of Mondstadt once again. His previous faction with the Favonius knights may have been imperfect, but Jean had proved to be amazing enough to rectify all these past mistakes that had eased Diluc’s resentment to the knights.

You continue to count back to all the things that he has done for you. As someone who’s had no home and who’s been traveling all their life, Diluc became your home. He had fallen for you and your wondrous soul. He was your living reminder that you can find home in a person. Someone who you can rely on, someone you will come back to after a long tiring day, someone who will love you for who you are and who will kiss your flaws away.  

And now, he’s gone. Just like that.

You have been gone for three months prior to all of this as you were on a secret commission to fight off a huge group of treasure hoarders in Natlan. Although you were able to travel back to Fontaine shortly after, you had to wait for further instruction from the guild before you could come back to Mondstadt. At the time, the only thoughts to occupy your mind was Diluc who had been waiting for your return and your longing and desire to run into his arms and for him to kiss your tiredness away. 

However, it took two agonizing days before Jean’s letter had arrived. All you could do was weep and worry endlessly at the inside of a quaint inn at the heart of the bustling and picturesque region that was Fontaine. Inside her letter were updated reports of Diluc’s disappearance; he had been missing for three days without telling the maids or any of the inhabitants of the mansion and the winery of his departure. He left without a trace…

As soon as the sun had risen that same day, you quickly left the region and made your way back to Mondstadt. With no knowledge or premonition that at the same day…

Diluc would be found.

On the road to Mondstadt, the staff at the Winery had been going on their merry day to deliver the wine to the city, when they came across a body. Battered and bruised. Upon closer inspection, it was their dearest master; the current head of the Ragvindr family. Further suspicion arose when a hoard of Fatui members had been defeated; lying beside the riverbend not too far from the manor. The Knights of Favonius had quickly deduced that Diluc had crawled all the way back to the outskirts of the Manor but had unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. 

From that day on, the sun had never shined again. 

Your stomach was in knots. You had a feeling that something had happened and yet, you didn’t expect for it to be something like this. You didn’t expect to hear about the state that he was in when he was found.

He’s strong. He’s the Dark Knight Hero, One of the protectors of Mondstadt; Hell, he’s one of the most powerful vision users of the region.

Yet… how did this happen?

A knock on the door had brought you out of your trance. With a simple “Come in.” said by Jean, the guest in question was revealed to be Kaeya who peered out from the door. A forlorn expression plastered upon his face. His head turns and your eyes meet his, “(Y/N)... how are you doing?” His voice gentle and melancholic. 

“N-never been better.” You remark in between sobs. “I-I need time to process this.” Wiping your tears with the handkerchief, you stand up, about to take your leave. “I-I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“According to the Favonius accords, Sir Diluc must be buried tom-”

“To hell with the Favonius accords!” You snap, still trying to fight back the tears as the three knights stare at you in shock and in empathy. “M-master Jean… p-please. Just one more day. Before I have to say goodbye to him forever… Let me have one day to reminisce about him.”

The Acting Grandmaster hesitates, as if collecting her thoughts first before she speaks. “Very well. We will be arranging the burial and other matters in the near future. For now, please get all the rest and recuperation you need. Thank you for your time, honorary knight. We’ll see you in a few days.” Jean holds your hand and gives it another reassuring squeeze as she and Lisa watch your walking figure make your way out of the room. 

Kaeya, who was still in front of the entryway, moves to the side to give you some space to make your leave. “Before the maids fully clean up his room, why don’t you tune in there for the night? I’m sure Diluc would love that.” 

“He would.” You smile half-heartedly, the indigo-haired man giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “T-thanks Kaeya. I will.” 

“I’ll be staying in the manor for the rest of Diluc’s memorial if you want t-to… talk about him. See you around.” You nod at him before shuffling down the stairs to enter the manor wing that led to Diluc’s room.

Oh, how you wish you were as calm as Jean and as emotionally mature as Kaeya right now. 

How are they able to hold up so well? How are they able to take this all in and not be on the verge of breakdown like you are? They’ve known Diluc since childhood. Hell, Kaeya was his adopted brother. His brother in arms. How are they able to accept his death just like that? 

Are you just… not as strong as them?

You take a left turn around the manor wing that leads to Diluc’s room to be surprised by Adelinde who greets you in front of Diluc’s door, a torn and bloodied folded paper in her hands. “Honorary knight, we have a letter addressed to you. The staff at the winery found it tucked inside Master Diluc’s pocket. You might want to read it.” She gingerly hands you the folded piece, patting your hand gently once she places it in your palm.

“Thank you, Adelinde.” 

You turn your attention to unlocking the door, fishing for the spare key that he had given you and inserting it into the knob, you hear the head maid speak behind your back. 

“Whilst you were away, there was never a day that Master Diluc had not spoken about you with such love and praise. I hope you know in your heart how much he loves and cherishes you. As there was never another person in his life who he had loved the most after Sir Crepus’ passing.” She recounts, her voice is slow and meek. “Thank you for loving Master Diluc and for showing him what it truly means to be a part of a family again. The entire staff sends our deepest condolences and we will be here for you and Sir Kaeya whenever you need us.” From the side of your eye, you see Adelinde bowing deeply before she subsequently takes her leave and disappears into the hallway.

With a heavy sigh, the door clicks and you enter your beloved’s abode. 

Not one thing has been touched. It still looks and remains the same.

His coat is still hanged on his wardrobe door, his usual button up black dress shirts folded neatly on one of the drawers, books that he’s read to you time and time again are shelved properly, a hearth in front of the bed that reminded you of your endless cuddles in front of the fireplace, his gloves neatly placed on his bedside table, and pictures of the two of you together in the Golden Apple Archipelago taken with the Kamera are hung on clips and strings on his desk.

It was like he never left. 

Like his physical being had just gone off on a long adventure.

Yet, it feels so empty. 

Because his soul and his presence is no longer here with you.

And it hurts. Everything hurts.

You take a seat on his bed. The mattress slightly creaks as you reach for an unusual piece of paper sticking out of his bedside drawer. Opening the cabinet slowly, your suspicion and curiosity heightens when what is revealed to be inside was a wooden box. Engraved were Diluc’s initials and letters that spelled out “Do not touch” 

Curiosity overwhelming you, you gingerly open the wooden box to be surprised with folded letters written by Diluc that were all addressed to you. Along with the date and time it was made. 

He wrote letters every single day. Hoping that once you came home, you could finally read them. Trying your best not to burst into tears, you carefully look through all of them and notice that they were all written during your absence. During those three agonizing months that you were gone. 

Although his daily letters were short and simply written, he never fails to write to you an encompassing message at the end of the week. In each weekly letter, he entailed many things: Like writing to you about his day, how much he misses you, how much time has passed, and discussing particular things he found during his nightly patrols or interesting things about his day. He wrote letters to you as if you were right there with him. His words etched with simplicity yet full of love. He wrote these letters to be whisked away from a minute of his otherwise mundane life. And despite how uneventful they may be, he still shares them with you because he knows you will listen. He knows you will take your time to read everything. As even though the two of you may be thousands of miles apart, your hearts will still beat as one.

You finally find the one that he had written for you the day after your departure, and begin to read it’s contents. Preparing yourself for an overflow of emotions that you were not ready for. 

JANUARY 3RD, 45 BP

As much as I hate to see you go, I realized that life has plans for all people. Even if those plans separate us from the ones we love. For the recent years that have passed, I have seen staff at the winery and maids in the manor come and go. And yet, I still haven’t gotten used to seeing you go off on your adventures. There are times I wish I could just be free of all of these responsibilities and come along with you on your escapades. But alas, I will presume that life is not for me. Always know that no matter where my life takes me or yours takes you, I will love you whether there are 1000 miles between us or none at all.

I miss you already, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 10TH, 45 BP

A week has come to pass since you left and I’ve been trying my best to keep myself busy. Kaeya has come to visit me and so has Venti, but they have done absolutely nothing to alleviate my boredom. In fact, they’ve all been a pain in the arse. When I tossed them into two of the guest rooms for passing out drunk, I was suddenly reminded of the times that you would wait for me at the Angel’s Share and help me drag Rosaria back to the cathedral, Kaeya back to his residence, and Venti back to the tree in Windrise. Then, we would take a night stroll around the city as the dwindling lights of the shops and houses being the only things illuminating our way. I cannot wait to do all of this with you again. It feels like the universe closes in around us whenever we’re together. But… the moment is so fleeting and you are gone again. The universe is awfully large and I am awfully small,  unable to hold the world with my hands. I just wish you were here to make me feel as if the universe is close enough to reach once more. 

Good night, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 17TH, 45 BP

It is 9 o’ clock in the evening as I write this. Today, Bennett had visited and asked if I could train him to control his vision. I said yes as I had nothing much better to do. Fischl and Razor were there to accompany him as well. To be quite honest, they’re quite a convivial trio. It’s nice to see them remain free-spirited despite everything that has happened recently. I could not bear to remain as cheerful as they are amidst the constant abyss order and Fatui attacks. After our training, Razor had come up to me and told me that you and I are lupical. I didn’t quite understand at first, but with Fischl’s long and heavy explanation, I had come to understand what it meant: Family.

Perhaps… we can be a family? Have a family of our own?

Oh… wait. I know, it’s too soon. So, please disregard my wishful thinking for now. I’d like to apologize if that may have come out the wrong way.

Thank you for reading today’s letter, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 24TH, 45 BP

I finished a book I borrowed from the Favonius library today. Lisa said you've been eyeing the tome for a long time. However, since Ella Musk was borrowing it at the time and you had to leave shortly for your trip to Natlan, you never got the chance to. I'd like to apologize for having been able to read it in advance. Perhaps, I can read it to you once you get home? Maybe in front of the fireplace, blankets hugging us for warmth, and cups of hot chocolate in our hands? Anyhow, there was something I found interesting about it.

There are Sumeru philosophers who claim that the past, present, and future all exist at the same time. That there are parallel universes. It had me thinking, in another universe... Would we still be together? Will fate bring us together? Could there be more for us outside of this blue sky we share?

I'm sorry for making you worry. It's probably my insomnia kicking in. These past twenty days have been quite lonely without you.

Goodnight, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

JANUARY 31ST, 45 BP

I can’t believe that January has finally come to pass. It feels like forever since you left. I know, I know, I sound like I’m sulking. But… the thoughts I had from finishing the book last week still have not left my mind. If only I could close my eyes and find myself in the place wherever you are right now. Kind of like…. What were those called? Waypoints? Yes! Those. Mayhaps, I should pay Sucrose or Albedo a visit and ask if they could make a portable wayfinder for me or a potion that can teleport me anywhere? Well, at least I have something interesting to do tomorrow. 

See you soon, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

FEBRUARY 7TH, 45 BP

The day you left, I went through all my old journals, frantically looking for the first mention of you. Searching for details I can no longer recall and any morsel of information that may have been lost. It honestly made me laugh at how different I used to think of you back then. You were always a kindred soul and yet, there was an eccentric air around you that I just couldn't quite understand. It was the good kind, of course. I have never thought ill of you since the beginning. Ever since the tragedy that befell my father, I would push everyone away from me. I told myself that if you didn't form close bonds with others, then you wouldn't get attached to them. They would be easier to let go and you could. But... you were the first who went out of your way for me. The first time you entered Angel's Share and challenged me to a game of chess solely because someone from the Adventurers' guild told you so? I knew there was something about you. Something wonderful. I wish to show you these old journals soon. Mayhaps you can get a clearer picture of my thoughts and impressions of others once you read them. 

For now, all I can do is count the days until you are home once more.

 Goodnight my love, may the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

FEBRUARY 14, 45 BP

People should fall in love more. Fall in love with how the dandelions blow with the wind, Fall in love with the safe and comforting feeling of being in the middle of a bustling city that is Mondstadt, Fall in love with the stars and the night that shines before us and Fall in love with the idea of being in love or loving someone. Having recently realized these things, I had the most spontaneous idea of wanting to get married in the Winery with you. In the future, of course. I know it’s not much. But I know you’re not the type to want anything fancy, so it’s the perfect area for the most beautiful moment of our lives to take place.

I had gotten a little too into the idea of planning our wedding and I aimlessly listed down those who will be attending. All our closest friends and family. Can you imagine Little Klee as the flower girl? Kaeya as the best man? Jean and Lisa as the maids of honor? Maybe we can even ask Eula to choreograph our wedding dance for us? Most importantly, have the wonderful honor of having the Lord Barbatos to officiate our marriage?

Once again, I hope you can pardon me and my blissful escapism. I can’t wait for the day to arrive where we can plan all of this and make it a perfect wedding.

As always, thank you for reading my constant rambles and inner thoughts, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

FEBRUARY 21ST, 45 BP

If you were taken away from me, this place called our world, I would cry.

Sighing, wringing my hands, and wondering why.

How can the archons and those up in Celestia dare to take the most precious soul in the universe from me?

But... what if I would be the one who would be taken away from you? Will you feel the same way too?

FEBRUARY 28TH, 45 BP

Please excuse me for everything I said in my message last week. I may have sounded somewhat selfish and I'd like to apologize for making you overthink when you already have so much on your plate. I cannot wait to mail out these letters to you, but the postal office in Monstadt doesn't deliver letters to Natlan, unfortunately. I guess I have to wait until you reach Fontaine. Putting those aside for a moment, something happened today that I wanted to share with you. Whilst I was feeding Noctua, I had realized something. What about the little birds who dream of flight? Those who gaze into the starry night and think that one day... they might be a part of that same sky? To be free, to explore, and to have the feeling of air and light coursing through their wings. Is... this the same feeling you felt before? Is this why you go on adventures?

I'd love to talk to you more about this once you get home. For now, all I can do is write you a letter and bid you goodnight. 

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

March 7TH, 45 BP

Whenever I write a letter addressed to you, I feel a raw ache in my bones when the ink seeps into the paper— for I feel the bittersweet sorrow of wanting you to be right by my side, to have my fingers intertwined with yours, and to be exhumed by you because you have always seen past all my flaws and imperfections. I miss you. So much. At this point, it feels as if I have no right to. Tell me... is it right to feel this way? Am I being selfish for wanting the days to come by? For April to be in our midst? Can I blame the archons for wanting to have you in my arms again? There’s something happening next week, and to be honest, I’m quite excited for it. See you soon, my love.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

March 14TH, 45 BP

Today is the first day of the Windblume Festival. How I terribly wish you were in Mondstadt right now. This would have been your first year and I know you would love the events. I remember when Father brought Kaeya and I to the festival for the very first time, and oh how my eyes were filled with wonderment and unshaken innocence. He gifted us a harp that day, and I still play it when I have time. It’s a wonderful keepsake with a lovely name, (The Windblume Ode) and it never fails to remind me of my father. I wonder if… Kaeya still kept his? Nostalgia aside, Venti caught up to me on the way home and told me I should see what he has in store for the second week of the festival. I know that the bard has a lot up his sleeve, but this particular encounter with him filled me with curiosity. What could it be? What does he have in store for me?

Before I end this, I bought you a bouquet of Dandelions and Cecilias today. They have a different color than the usual wreaths and posies, as these ones only bloom during Windblume. I placed them inside the vase on your desk just a few minutes ago. I do not necessarily have green thumbs, so please do not blame me if anything bad happens. I made sure that they’re still in season once you get home and I can’t wait for you to see them.

Goodnight my love, May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

MARCH 21ST, 45 BP

Once you get home, please do assist on reprimanding the bard for me. Can you believe he had tricked me into attending his love poem-making classes? Since a lot of the cityfolk have been dying to take writing classes under him and were willing to pay if he did, he had decided to take this opportunity to receive mora and “get rich.” Venti brags to the cityfolk that he will use their compensation for good reasons… but we all know he’ll just spend it wasting away at Angel’s Share. I won't let him pass me when it’s my hour to manage the tavern, of course. But… maybe one drink as a prize for all his hard work wouldn’t be too bad? After all, I did learn a lot of things from him. He was also quite smart for incorporating such an activity with Windblume. As during the festivities,  the people of Mondstadt offer Windblumes to Barbatos and to those they love and adore. 

I spent all day being mentored and trained into creating “the most romantic poem written in Teyvat” I know Venti is bluffing and was just trying to soften me so I wouldn’t get mad at him, yet he was actually genuinely impressed with my poetic skills. I didn’t want anyone else to read it before you did, but he snatched the paper from my hands as soon as I finished so that he may critique it. I… didn’t expect him to shed a tear. 

Here is the poem I wrote for you, my love. I hope you’ll like it.

“I wish one day, I'd be able to lay you down on a bed of roses with

the stars watching over us.

I wish one day we will be able to see the world together, to touch the stars and become planets.

After all, darling, stars, like life, is what you make of it. 

 I wish you knew how much I've loved you for all these years, so quietly, so loudly.

One day these roses will never compare to the redness in your cheeks, the softness of your heart.

 One day you will see kingdoms rise and the sun dance on your eyelids.

 And one day the moon will hang from your fingertips, waiting for you to refract your light and hope onto others.

You are an enigmatic being. A beautiful soul. Sometimes I think that you’re not from this universe.

 You have enraptured my soul; my whole being. You taught me how to love. 

Everything about you is out of this world and I am merely a human amazed by your interstellar presence as if you are written in the stars.”

 MARCH 28TH, 45 BP

I think I’ve gotten the hang of writing poems. I’m quite confident in my lyricism and in my writing now. So, here’s an excerpt of another poem I’m writing for you. 

 “I will love you through all the days and nights we are apart.

I will love you through every day and as the darkness turns to light. 

It is four o’ clock in the afternoon and this is the hardest part.

But this is the way I love you, even if most days we are apart.” 

 That’s all for now. I’m afraid you’ll only see the final draft once you get back. I hope you’re having a wonderful time at Natlan. Take care always, my love.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

 APRIL 4TH, 45 BP

I’ve been pondering about something again today. And It’s all because of Kaeya and Jean. They came over and we reminisced all day long about our childhood memories with tea and crumpets to accompany us. It was a nice feeling. To be able to look back on your childhood with such wistfulness. With such warmth. And with that, I realized something soon after: We’re young, but not that young. Some of the folk in Springvale are sixty-five and still feel young. Even Lord Barbatos feels young. Just because we have years ahead of us doesn’t mean our love isn’t going to last a lifetime. But… that’s the thing. We don’t have an entire lifetime to show love and affection towards each other and to others. Which is why we have to make the most of it. Live in the moment. Make the most of every minute that your heart is beating. Love endlessly. Be kind to others. That’s… what you always told me right? Even if we don’t have the rest of our lives to be with each other, I will still love you anyway. Every day, deeply, wholeheartedly, even if we are young and even if we are old. My love for you will be gentle, but fierce and bold.

That is all for now, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

April 11TH, 45 BP

The words are melting in my mouth like snow, and I feel like I'm running on empty, but there are only 5 days until you come home. I have dreamt every night of the morning we are together again. You will be drinking dandelion wine and I will be talking about how the orchard will finally bloom. Then in the next few months, we can do everything we dreamed about. We can go around the winery, have picnics amongst the stars, walk around Mondstadt and go on adventures once more. Soon, you will be home, and I will watch the leaves and patiently wait for time to pass by  until we are together again. 

 But.. since I cannot wait no more, I plan to travel all the way to Fontaine to see you. I will not be telling any of the maids or the staff where I’ll be going. They would worry if I left again. This is all going to be a surprise and this letter will proof of that. I want to be beside you once more and I cannot bear to wait for five more days. I will be leaving at Dawn tomorrow! I’ll treat this as a little vacation. I rightfully deserve it as a treat for my birthday, hoping I can spend it together with you. Maybe… we can take a quick detour and go on a little adventuring? Just the two of us. I know you’ll be weary from your trip, but we can continue to stay at Fontaine but we can go once you’ve fully recovered.

 I cannot wait to feel your warmth and your love in person again. See you soon, my beloved.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

That was it. That was the last letter stored in the box. 

 You stare into nothingness, unable to find the words to say. 

 Tears began to form in your eyes, your vision blurring and your hands quivering at the thought of him. All these letters he’s written to you all throughout these months and the fact that he was planning to surprise you by meeting with you at Fontaine? It hurts you so much thinking of all the things that could’ve been. Thinking about what could’ve happened if this tragedy did not take place.

 “Diluc…”

 You call out for his name. Hoping there is an answer. 

 But… of course there isn’t. 

 Your hands absentmindedly graze upon the corners of the  bed when you suddenly remember the torn letter Adelinde had given you. 

 You open the letter with slight hesitance, noticing the dark stains that presumably came from Diluc’s torn and dirtied clothes. With a heavy sigh and as you dry your tears, you begin to read the letter. 

APRIL 13TH, 45 BP

Ever since you left, I felt as if we were breaking the whole world's heart. But... all this time, it was always the other way around. It was the world that was slowly breaking us. 

 Even in these last moments, I cannot fathom that I will be disappearing from this world without even seeing you again. It hurts. My body. There are bruises and wounds all over. My hands are trembling in fear and weariness. I can barely move my wrist and I can hardly think of the words I want to say. I feel the end is drawing near. Not for the world, not for you, but for me. Everything is caving in, my senses are slowing, my eyes are falling, and just waiting for the rest of my system to put me into an eternal sleep. 

 Would... time be so kind as to slow? Can the world stop for a minute and listen to my plea? To my call? A miracle to happen that could magically transport you to me? I w-wish we could have spent more time together. All these letters I’ve written for you these past few months… were they an omen? Was I foolish to think I could have a future with you? Is this the price to pay for having been separated from you for so long? Is it… still possible to attain it? The life I’ve always wanted with you?  Maybe in another world, we can. 

We will share every innocent dream and talk about our fears. All your hopes and dreams. I will listen to the sound of your voice and the echoes of your soul. I will kiss your forehead, your knuckles, and your lips. I will stand by you in every new day even when people seem so unkind. I will join up all your insecurities, bundle all your flaws, and make them into a constellation so that I may find them and wish them away. I will do everything to make you feel safe. I will do everything to make you feel loved. There was never a day that I doubted you. You are everything to me, (Y/N). You are a free and wandering soul. I wish I could be behind you to support you wherever you may go, but alas, that fate is not for me. And… I think that’s fine.

 Remain as you are. Continue to love others like you have loved me. Teach them what it means to live. Like you have taught me.

 Please… don’t be sad. This is the momentary sadness to a new beginning, my beloved.

I love you to the stars and back. 

I hope that in another world, our paths may cross again. 

May the stars of Teyvat always shine on you.

A heavy yet comforting feeling fills your heart as tears continue to stream down your cheeks. Folding the letter and putting it into the box amongst all the others, You clutch your hand to your chest, looking up at the ceiling.

 “Diluc, my love… if you are out there. I will love you forever. Through all these months of my absence, you have never left my mind and I wish I could have been there  for you. I wish I could have given you the same amount of love that you have given me. There are so many things I wish I could have done with you. Every letter and every word you’ve ever dedicated to me will forever remain in my heart. These handwritten sentiments will be one of my reminders that you are still with me, no matter where I go. Even if it hurts so much, I will continue to live for you. Honor your memory. I will show the world that I have only loved one man in this lifetime. Thank you for everything.

 You have now become one of the stars that shine down upon me. Soon, we will once again meet in the same sky and there, we will have our happily ever after.

 Farewell, my dark knight.”

ೃ taglist: @ganyuuxs @mignonextte @inlovewithadeptusxiao @duhsies @qimiie @kozu-zumi @volleybloop @latteshinsou @catgirlkomi @reaped-winnower @monaa @dibhachu @sugurus-princess​ @midnightangelfox​ @call-me-moonflower

[ingek73]

Stifling, Toxic and Racist—Duchess Meghan Never Had a Chance at The Palace

Royal editor-at-large Omid Scobie sounds off on the outdated practices and attitudes within the royal family that left the Duke and Duchess of Sussex forced to make a change.

BY OMID SCOBIE

MAR 10 2021, 3:20 PM EST

I remember the feeling of frustration well. My work on an extensive biography of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, Finding Freedom, was coming to an end. After hearing countless stories from multiple people close to the couple about how they felt unsupported and unprotected by the institution of the monarchy, it was time to address the matter with the palace side. A chance for them to respond.

“This is nonsense. … We did absolutely everything [for Meghan],” the senior aide told me over the phone. I asked for examples. “Everybody welcomed her, and she was given all the support she needed,” they continued. I asked again. “They forget how accommodating we were when it came to navigating the duchess through her first steps [as a working royal],” the aide added, somewhat curtly. I had several conversations like this over the weeks that followed—each party, be they from Clarence House, Buckingham Palace, or Kensington Palace, for the most part seemingly baffled by the Sussexes’ grievances. Finally, I took what I had and moved on.

Well over a year has passed since these calls, and the full severity of Harry and Meghan’s situation has finally been laid bare. Sitting in front of Oprah Winfrey, the duchess tearfully opened up about her darkest days as a working member of the royal family. Unprotected, undefended, and left to face a near-daily barrage of hateful commentary and negative stories, Meghan revealed how her circumstances had, at times, seen her virtually stuck indoors for weeks on end. Lunch with friends could have momentarily lifted her spirits, but social outings were dismissed by royal family members and aides who said it would be better to lie low. Her image was “everywhere right now,” they told her. Her isolated existence stood out in particular to her worried mother, Doria Ragland, who during a summer 2019 visit to Frogmore Cottage was surprised to discover that neither she nor her daughter was able to go out into Windsor town to pick up coffees. “You’re stuck in here,” Doria told Meghan at the time, according to a source.

The Oprah interview was the world’s first time hearing Meghan describe the true toll of the palace’s “no comment” policy when it came to dealing with inaccurate press coverage. One report that caused Meghan particular upset was the November 2018 allegation that she’d made the Duchess of Cambridge cry during a children’s bridesmaid dress fitting for her Windsor Castle wedding. Though the palace knew the claims were untrue (and that it was, in fact, Kate who made Meghan cry), Meghan was repeatedly told that it would not be possible to set the record straight, despite it being a story that fed into a stereotype-laden narrative. Other royal family members were often afforded more sympathetic support when it came to dealing with inaccurate press (officials even issued a statement to deny Kate’s use of Botox in July 2019), but both Harry and Meghan felt they did not have access to this same privilege.

The couple’s exasperation came to a head in January 2020, when Kensington Palace urgently requested that Prince Harry cosign a statement against an “offensive” newspaper report stating Prince William “constantly bullied” the Sussexes before their decision to step away. “Well, if we’re just throwing any statement out there now, then perhaps KP can finally set the record straight about me [not making Kate cry],” Meghan emailed an aide, asking why side of the story public image was never considered important to anyone. But, as with many requests made by the couple, her suggestion was ignored. The Duchess of Cambridge, she was told, should never be dragged into idle gossip.

Meghan’s state of well-being deteriorated as the institution refused to defend or protect her during her toughest moments. Talking to Oprah, Meghan revealed that her mental health was so fragile during her pregnancy that she “didn’t want to be alive anymore.” She turned to senior staff—including the palace’s own HR department—but her plea for help in January 2019 was repeatedly shut down. It’s not a good look for the family, she was told. Even friends who wanted to help her or speak up in her defense were regularly reminded by palace aides to keep quiet. As the cruel commentary, racist attacks, death threats, and negative tabloid stories piled up—and the institution continued to ignore the problem—Meghan later likened the experience to a friend as “death by a thousand cuts.” Her reference to an ancient Chinese execution method was no coincidence.

For the millions around the world who watched Meghan share her story, some of the experiences shared were perhaps all too familiar. Princess Diana revealed in several interviews that she considered suicide during her marriage to Prince Charles and spoke candidly about her battles with bulimia and mental distress, both of which were ignored by the institution of the monarchy. Sarah, Duchess of York, was also open about how the pressures and loneliness that came with palace life led to her own struggle with eating disorders.

When Kate quickly found public adoration as the Duchess of Cambridge, the palace would proudly tell members of the press that lessons from the past had been learned. “There has been a concerted effort to ensure that history never repeats itself,” one senior staff member working for the Cambridges told me in 2014. Yet, here we are in 2021, with a very real image of Britain’s oldest and most revered establishment once again engaged in neglect and gaslighting, and dismissing mental health.

When Kate quickly found public adoration as the Duchess of Cambridge, the palace would proudly tell members of the press that lessons from the past had been learned. “There has been a concerted effort to ensure that history never repeats itself,” one senior staff member working for the Cambridges told me in 2014. Yet, here we are in 2021, with a very real image of Britain’s oldest and most revered establishment once again engaged in neglect and gaslighting, and dismissing mental health.

This time, however, race—or more specifically, racism—plays a major role. Harry and Meghan’s revelation that a member of the royal family (not the queen or Prince Philip) had expressed “concern” over how dark the skin of the queen’s great-grandson might be, left many, including Oprah herself, openmouthed. But for those familiar with the institution—which on Sunday celebrated the diversity of the Commonwealth realm’s population of 2.4 billion—it comes as less of a surprise. This is an establishment that only last week briefed The Times of London that Meghan wanted to be royal “the Beyoncé way,” and that the help offered to her included establishing the queen’s Black equerry (a senior attendant, if you will) as a “mentor.” Princess Michael of Kent’s ignorance regarding wearing a blackamoor brooch during her first encounter with Meghan is a reminder that even racial sensitivity can be lacking within the family. An establishment that, as Meghan herself explained, has yet to learn the difference between rude and racist press coverage. The stiff upper lip, no matter how painful the attacks, was expected to remain impossibly rigid at all times.

The palace has continually proven itself to be unable to empathize with any person who crumbles under the pressures of its outdated and unreasonable expectations.

But when does forced silence turn into abuse? Ignoring gossip and drama may fall under the royal family’s famed (but questionable) “never complain, never explain” mantra, but expecting the victim of racism to remain voiceless while sections of the press call her “ghetto,” “straight outta Compton,” and “un-royal” borders on complicit with the attacks. As does refusing to learn how to identify the existence of the very racism that fuels them.

If it’s not considered appropriate to acknowledge racism or racial ignorance when aimed at a mixed-raced senior royal, then how should the 54 countries of the Commonwealth and its predominantly Black, Brown, and mixed population feel about the realm’s figurehead belonging to an institution that claims to celebrate “diversity” but in practice appears to uphold white supremacy? And if the lack of awareness Harry described to Oprah is true, then were race-related public duties, including Prince William recently calling out racism in British soccer and Prince Charles speaking out about racism in architecture in 2000, simply performative? It’s hard to forget that across the full lineup of working royals, all failed to acknowledge last year’s Black Lives Matter movement, which saw just as much protesting across the United Kingdom as the United States.

A brief, 61-word statement shared on behalf of the queen by the palace on March 9 revealed that the family is “saddened” by how challenging recent years have been for the Sussexes. But with the note also admitting that the family are somehow only just learning of the “full extent” of the couple’s experiences, isn’t it all a bit late? With yet another “commoner” leaving the House of Windsor emotionally battered and bruised, the palace has continually proven itself to be unable to empathize with any person who crumbles under the pressures of its outdated and unreasonable expectations. A glass-half-full view is that recent events could perhaps serve as a catalyst for change (and I hope they are). But given Harry’s own admission that his family is trapped within a “system” so fearful of the British press and public that they’re often unable to live up to their own ideals, is it actually time for us to just finally set them free?

[elldell1204]

Nightmare - Upstead Fic

This is my first Upstead fic, so I really hope you like it as I am so proud of it 😊 It’s starts towards the end of 7x09 and is an alternative, more tense ending to the actual episode/storyline, in my opinion. Enjoy!

wc - 3,688

“Angela.” It was almost a whisper, that’s how dry his throat was and how weak he had grown over the last twenty-four hours of almost constant beatdowns. Not only did Jay have to deal with the physical torture, but the mental one too. Every moment that led up to where he was right now was being replayed in his head, seeing as he has nothing more to do. Being the type of guy who always tries to find a way to improve himself in every way possible, he’s picking apart each second, imagining the hundreds of different ways things could have gone differently if he had just let the call go to voicemail, told his partner where he was going, gone in with backup, heard the guy’s footsteps behind him, fought him off. Hell, he was even going back as far as to question his quick decision of Marcus West being the one responsible for the murder of two young boys. He sees now though that he was getting too involved, being too emotional, trying his absolute best not to slip into the cold, heartless shell of a man that returned from Afghanistan all those years ago to the point where he went too far and got an innocent man killed. 

“Angela.” He tried again, prying the eye open that wasn’t glued shut with dried blood from the gash on his forehead. “Kick one of those pipes over to me.”

The woman that sat slumped against the pipes across from him raised her head. But she didn’t meet his eyes. How could she after what he had just revealed to her? The man before her had murdered her husband, in her mind. And even though her only chance at survival was to work with him, she had absolutely no desire in her heart to do so. He deserved to die, and if that meant that she would too, then so be it. But every time her thoughts ventured there, she reminded herself of her son. He already lost his father, so he needed his mother more than ever.

“C’mon, Angela.” He had managed to free his left hand by now, the ropes that once bound him hanging loose from his wrist as he gestured towards the objects in question. “We gotta work together if we’re gonna get outta here, so you have to kick one over, c’mon, please. It’s the only way.”

It was then she lifted her eyes to his. The dark chestnut pools had lost all life and purpose and were emotionally empty, barring the harsh disgust that was boring holes straight through to Jay’s soul, so deep he could sense it bubbling inside him, the feeling so undeniably familiar, being that he felt it towards himself the night he discovered his mistake, unable to correct it as it was too late.

***

Unbeknownst to Jay, his beloved unit was rallying outside the very building he was being held prisoner in, ready to take down an army if it meant they’d save him.

Voight was dishing out orders to each of them, but Hailey wasn’t listening, not really. She knew she’d do anything to get to Jay, even if it meant going against the boss’ orders or putting her own life in danger. Thoughts of how she could be so stupid to let him go without backup or to get her hopes up that he’d be in the van for the exchange kept swirling around in her brain. But she had to be totally focused on the now. The next few minutes could land anywhere on the spectrum between the most ideal scenario of finding him perfectly okay and finding him in a lifeless heap on the floor. She had to be alert and ready for anything.

That’s why she didn’t hesitate when Kevin hoisted her up to crawl through the vent in the wall.

***

It was now or never. The weaker of their two captors had come down the stairs a few seconds ago, armed with a water bottle and a fresh dressing for Angela’s wound. Now he was knelt down beside her, applying it whilst trying to keep down whatever he had for lunch. It was pretty much useless. She needed a miracle after the amount of blood she had already lost, and still it kept gushing out, even though Jay was pretty sure she didn’t have a much left.

“There you go.” The man announced, getting to his feet but staying crouched.

“Can I have some water?” Jay piped up, adrenaline starting to seep into his blood at the mere thought of the feat he was going to have to pull off.

The man simply looked over his shoulder at the battered and bruised body behind him, showing no objection nor acceptance.

“Please, man.” Jay begged now, his voice breathier to play the part.

The man’s gaze returned and stayed on Angela as he grabbed the water bottle, stepping backwards towards Jay when the harsh ringing of the metal pipe echoed throughout the murky basement as it collided with his head.

After he dropped to the floor, Jay checked he was out cold before sliding the rope, tied to his right wrist, off the pipe. He attempted to get to his feet, but he felt the room spin and decided on crawling until his blood pressure went back up. He once again checked the man was unconscious along with casting a glance over to the stairs to make sure the other guy wasn’t on his was to beat the crap out of him. Satisfied with the answer to both, he searched his victim’s pockets for a weapon of any kind. He found a switchblade, and although he would have preferred a gun, it would have to do. He then grabbed the pipe before crossing the short distance to Angela, kneeling down beside her.

“You did good.” He said, a little out of breath, as he used to knife to cut through the ropes that tethered her to the pipes like he was. The only acknowledgement he got was a helpless whimper and a sad little nod.

“Okay, stay here,” he gave the pipe to Angela, then laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m going after the other one.”

And he was up. As stealthily as he could, he climbed the stairs, attempting to stay flat to the wall and out of sight. He could hear the words flowing from the other guy’s mouth, anger lacing each one, along with heavy footsteps reverberating across the floor above him. Then after a deep breath, he emerged, sprinting towards the guy who had his back turned. That was until Jay was about three feet away, when he promptly turned and fought back, blocking the slashes of Jay’s hand with his forearm and landing a punch to Jay’s gut with his other hand. It didn’t stop Jay though, he swung and he swung, and he knew, he knew that he’d have this guy by now if he wasn’t so goddamn weak and in pain.

The guy managed to forcefully shove Jay away from him, long enough to raise his revolver and fire a shot off. A lucky shot. One that ripped through the flesh of Jay’s shoulder like it was paper.

And he screamed.

A guttural scream that resonated from somewhere deep inside of him as the pain ripped through him. He staggered backwards, clutching at his wound whilst the agony set in.

And he was so goddamn close to getting out of there.

“Jay!”

He heard it. And though it was fairly far away, he couldn’t mistake that voice for anyone else’s.

Hailey.

Oh, how he cursed himself for not telling her how he felt before. He knew how unreliable tomorrow is, he’d experienced it first-hand with too many people, yet still he had assumed it was going to come around. Now all he had left to ease the pain of his stupidity was to convince himself that she would be better off without him. She deserves so much better than him. He was a murderer, essentially. And we’re not talking the bad guys, here. Marcus West had been on his conscious since the day he died, and despite the numerous assurances from multiple people that it wasn’t his fault that he died, he knew in his heart that at least some part of it was. He reverted his mind back to Hailey as he waited for the second and fatal shot to come his way. After all, if he was going to go out, he knew it would be a lot more peaceful if his thoughts were filled with bright blonde hair, bright blue eyes that remined him of the sky on the most perfect of sunny days and the infectious smile that could make him feel whole when he caused it.

***

She heard the gunshot. She’d heard hundreds before, but this one, the one that was most likely the difference between life and death for her partner, was the loudest. So loud it made her heart stop and legs go weak at the same time. It felt as if the walls were suffocating her, coaxing her into an unconscious state where nothing was real. Not like a dream, but less of a nightmare than the one she was living in now.

But she clutched onto reality, staying awake and hauling herself back into the moment.

“Jay!” She screamed as powerful as she could, her legs finding the strength to sprint in the direction of the gunshot. It was her only way of telling him that she was there and begging him to hold on, for her.

She needs him alive. She needs him to have her back, in every aspect of life. She needs him to make her smile when everything else seems dreary.

She needs him.

***

“C’mon, pretty boy.”

Jay was only partially conscious as he was half dragged, half stumbling up the steps to the roof. He had no idea what this guy was doing. Why didn’t he just finish him off when he had the chance?

They practically burst through the door and onto the roof, the guy shoving Jay so that he fell to his knees in from of him. He groaned, but still managed to get to his feet, albeit achingly slowly. Turning to face his captor, he was met with the barrel of a gun.

“Who are you?” The man seethed. “You told us your name was Jim, but that girl shouted Jay.”

Jay didn’t say a word. He just maintained eye contact with his one good eye.

“And the way you fought me...I have to give it to you; you were pretty damn good.” The man chuckled sadistically before stopping abruptly. “Which makes it very likely that you’re a cop.”

Jay’s eyes must have flickered, because the man soon cocked the revolver, taking a step forward and urging Jay to take a step back.

“Fuck.” The man grimaced. “I knew it.”

“You’re done, man.” Jay said, seeing his chance to negotiate. “It’s over, you can’t win. So either shoot me and get charged with the murder of a police officer, or let me go. You can escape, if you’re quick, and no one will even know you were here. I’ll tell them your buddy was the only guy and he was the one who shot me.”

He genuinely seemed to consider it, only for a second, before a rage burned in his eyes stronger than Jay had ever witnessed before.

“Why can’t I have both things that I want? You, dead, and escape.” He inched further forward, the barbaric smile returning, and Jay stepped further back. “As far as I know, you fell off the roof trying to let your cop buddies know you were up here.”

That’s when Jay realised how close to the edge he was, and a lump grew in his throat.

***

“Where the hell is he?” Hailey shouted, slamming her hands down on the table beside her. The rest of the unit, which had recently regrouped after sweeping the warehouse, flinched at the loud bang but understood her frustration as they felt it themselves. Hailey found the spot where the gunshot had happened; the blood splatter on the wall tipped her off. The first place she looked was down the stairs, but she had only found Angela, slouched against the wall, and one of the captors, laid out unconscious. But no gun, and no Jay.

“There’s only two exits, and Kim and Rojas have them covered. Let’s do another sweep of the warehouse, they can’t have just disappeared.” Voight ordered, and they all dispersed, except Hailey, who still had both hands firmly planted on the table as she breathed deeply, grasping onto the little composure she had left.

That’s when she realised there were more than two exits. There was one leading onto the roof.

She sprinted off towards the stairs that she’d memorised from the blueprints and climbed them faster than she thought humanly possible. When she reached the roof, she couldn’t help but to throw open the door, her gun raised ready to fire. And as she stepped out onto the roof, she took a split second to thank her past self for taking an extra few minutes to look over the blueprints one last time.

***

Both men heard the door open, only Jay had the advantage of being the one facing it. Which is why he had a few second lead of seeing the flurry of blonde hair rushing out. And also why he had the chance, whilst his captor turned to see what the noise was, to grab the gun and attempt to pry it from his hands. But the attempt was unsuccessful, mainly down to the fact only one of his arms was currently operational, so it resulted in a struggle of tangled limbs and grunts as each man tried to claim the gun as their own. That also meant that Hailey didn’t have a clear shot in fear of shooting her partner.

But suddenly she wished she had taken the chance and trusted her skills when both bodies tumbled off the roof.

She couldn’t move. She was fixed in place in fear of seeing her partner, her best friend, falling to his death. That’s when she heard the crack, the one from the bodies hitting the sidewalk, and it was then that every fibre of her being wanted to shatter. She wanted to fall to her hands and knees and wail and howl until she was hoarse and her tears had formed puddles below her.

But she didn’t. She ran to the edge of the building where she braced herself before looking over, ready to confirm her worst nightmare. And down on the pavement were mangled limbs and spattered blood surrounding them.

And Jay grasping onto a protruding metal pole with his right hand, his body dangling precariously as he grits his teeth to endure the pain.

Hailey couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t religious, but she thanked whoever was looking down right now for the miracle that just occurred.

“Jay!” She shouted, and you could tell she was on the threshold of breaking down from the way even the single syllable she spoke wobbled with unshed tears. She reached down her hand to grab his wrist, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pull him up on her own, even if she had all the adrenaline in the world pumping through her veins. “Help! On the roof!”

She screamed it once. Twice. Three times. All the while, keeping her grip on Jay’s wrist as he hung helplessly. But she could tell he was getting tired, and he was already weak to begin with. The next time she spoke she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Just hold on, Jay, please. Please hold on.” It came out almost in sobs, but she was so desperate for him to stay strong that she didn’t care.

“Oh my god, Hailey!” Kevin shouted from the top of the stairs behind her. She heard his footsteps racing across the gravel before he dropped to his stomach beside her and looked over the edge. He didn’t hesitate to grab Jay’s arm, both him and Hailey heaving the man up and onto the roof.

And that’s where he gave up, falling to his back as the agony washed over him in full force, the adrenaline wearing off in its entirety.

“Jay, stay with me. Stay with me.” Hailey cried out, her bright blonde hair and fresh blue eyes as crystalline as the lake on a summer’s day being the last thing he remembers before slipping into unconsciousness.

***

The next thing he knows, the repetitive beep of the monitor and the chemical smell that lingers in the air is what he’s waking up to, along with the warm hand that is interlocked with his own and keeping him close. He flickers open his eyes, letting them adjust to the harsh white light before opening them fully and looking around. His brother is leant against the doorframe, watching him as he stirs before catching his eyes and smiling gratefully. To his right is a mess of blonde hair splayed out over the covers as Hailey rests her head and her eyes. He can tell she’s asleep from her slow breathing, but she looks anything but peaceful. He turns his attention back to Will, who is now walking gently towards him.

“Hey little bro,” he whispers. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Jay quipped, his voice hoarse, managing a small smile.

Will merely smirked before explaining what happened when they got to the hospital, speaking quietly at Jay’s request so he didn’t wake Hailey. Once he was done, he left with a nod and a remark about letting the two lovebirds have some time together.

Jay inhaled and exhaled deeply before gathering the courage to wake Hailey. He ran his fingers through her hair then caressed her cheek with his thumb until she stirred. She sat up, a little disoriented at first but she soon came back to earth. That’s when she realised what woke her, and any remnants of sleep were quickly shaken away.

“You’re awake.” She breathed out, a little disbelieving despite the surgeon saying he was due to make a full recovery.

“So are you.” He smirked.

Silence hung in the air once more, but it was neither comfortable nor awkward. Both of them could tell there were words that needed to be said, but they couldn’t find the right ones. Somewhat luckily, that’s when Voight decided to grace them with his presence.

***

It was a little later now, and Hailey had just returned from work to sit with Jay again. He wasn’t being discharged for a least another few days, much to his dismay, but he was glad that she was there to make the wait more enjoyable. Whilst she was gone, he figured out what he wanted to say to her, the exact words, only when she stepped into the room a few minutes ago, they seemed to escape him. But it was now or never, so he threw caution to the wind and went with what his heart was telling him.

“Hailey?” It was a little louder than a whisper that he managed at first, but she heard and was up on her feet in no time.

“What is it? Are you in pain? Should I get a nurse? Or are you thirsty? I can get you some water…” She was a little on edge. She wasn’t used to seeing her partner, the war vet, the first person through the door, so incapacitated and…weak.

“No, no, I’m good.” He chuckled, and she relaxed, exhaling deeply and sitting down on the edge of the bed before meeting his eyes. He smiled softly, as did she. “You saved me.”

“Well, Kevin was the one to- “

“No, Hailey, you saved me. When that guy shot me, I was so close to giving up. I was so sure that that was it, that I was going to die on the cold, stone floor of a warehouse. But then I heard your voice. It gave me hope, it reminded me I had something, someone, worth fighting for, so close to me that I could hear you. And I was devastated when he dragged me up to that roof, but I knew that you’d find me if I just kept him talking, and you did, and you saved me again. And then when we fell, I grabbed onto that pipe, but I was so tired, Hailey, I didn’t think I was going to keep hold of it much longer. But then you told me to hold on, and I knew that I had to because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to hear your voice again, I wouldn’t see your smile light up a room again or hear your laugh and have it make my day. And I realised, Hailey, that I couldn’t let go, because that would mean giving up on a chance of having the most amazing life with you, and I could never pass that up in a million years. So, yes, Hailey, you saved me.”

That’s when he realised that she had silent tears streaming down her face, but a small smile graced her features.

“Jay…I…” She started, but she too was unable to put her feelings into words, as none seemed to convey the immensity of them. So she leaned down and captured his lips with her own, cupping the back of his head with her hand, kissing him so sweetly and passionately that she poured a thousand words worth of her feelings into that one kiss. It was like everything around them vanished, as if nothing else existed but them. He returned it immediately, holding her cheek in his palm, and they bared their souls, showing how much love they have for one another, and suddenly they both felt utterly complete.

[lexiesdarkthoughts]

Moving Forward

It has been a long time since I posted something of substance. My reasons for that vary, but a lot of it has to do with the complete nuttiness of my life, especially my marriage. Ahab and I, like many others, have had ups and downs in our relationship. We've dealt with a lot of hurdles the past few years, but almost divorcing is probably the biggest hurdle we've overcome.

I often talked about Ahab's health problems and how they had been a contributor to huge strain on our sex life. Those problems were more complex than we realized. As we worked our way to a solution, things began to improve slightly. In the middle of working through Ahab's health issues, we were also dealing with family issues, work stress, and just a lot of complex life issues. Yet, we were ever so slowly finding our way back to who we were pre-health issues.

Then, I miscarried. We weren't very far along when I lost our child, but it had an impact on both of us. It took me a long time to really begin to heal from the miscarriage emotionally and mentally. I'm still not sure that I am healed, in fact, I know I'm not; but I'm better than I was when it happened.

We get to a point where life has steadied. Ahab and I started to get back on a track that was heading in a positive direction. It was the first time in a while that I felt hopeful about the direction we were going in. Then something happened that I wasn't sure we would survive. I'm not going to go into details, but this event was the catalyst that almost led to the end of our marriage. In the end, we both made the decision to at least try to work on our marriage before throwing in the towel. We have both put in a lot of work individually and as a couple to get us to where we are today. We still have a lot of work to do, but we're steadily making progress. 

The point of all this is to say that going forward, I am not going to post about my relationship much. Of course, I'll still mention Ahab and I'll still occasionally post about certain topics and thoughts. I will still reblog sexy pictures like I always have. I just will not be delving much about the details between Ahab and I like I have in the past. 

I admit that I have a lot of fears about my future with Ahab, but I also have hope. Right now, what's best for us is to keep the secrets of our life between just us and not my internet blog. We're still Ahab and Lexie. We're just the slightly battered and bruised, constantly improving, and private Ahab and Lexie. 

My love to all who have followed me through the years. I hope that you will still hang around for the sexy and fun content. Please take care of yourselves and your loved ones. Be safe. 

[motivatedminds]

“When someone says 'Jo what you said has really helped me', it still astonishes me”

As well as the emotional challenges that raising a family brings, stay at home Mum, Jo, found herself needing to overcome an unhealthy dependency on alcohol, but with 24% of adults in England and Scotland regularly drinking over the recommended guidelines, Jo wasn't alone. She recognised that she needed to take control of the problem before it completely took control of her, and after receiving help from several agencies she completely turned her life around.

However her journey had left her feeling battered and bruised and she admits feeling like her mental health took a hit from years of turmoil. Whilst feeling more stable, she soon found herself in a mundane cycle of school runs, housework and food preparation and now with a clear head, her sobriety left her with a thirst for life.

Whilst research suggests that stay at home parents are more likely to report depression than their employed counterparts, finding work that fits in around childcare can be problematic, and that's why Jo decided to look for a voluntary role that would complement her family arrangements, not challenge them, and help her to finally move away from her demons.

She said "I had worked up to being 4 years sober when I decided I wanted more for myself so I hunted out some volunteer work. I searched through various organisations and came across Motivated Minds, I thought 'brilliant that’s a bit of me' especially considering they were offering all the help I had just been receiving and more."

She recalls "I was so nervous on my first day, I could only muster up the courage to serve teas and coffees to the staff members, but slowly I took on extra work." Despite her evolving role, there was still one thing that Jo couldn't do, and that was drive. But over time it became increasingly apparent that this was a much needed role, so she saved up enough money to complete an intensive week long course and took her theory test too. She failed her first theory but didn't let it get her down, she said "I had been trying to learn to drive since I was 18, but this time I had a real purpose and motivation to try again as I knew passing my test would make a huge difference to my role at Motivated Minds."

Jo soon passed her theory and practical test and to this day being a volunteer driver is proving vital to Motivated Minds as she currently collects food donations for their food bank at least twice a week. 

But driving is just one of the many personal goals that Jo has achieved since volunteering at Motivated Minds. In 2018 she joined the team in Wales to climb Mount Snowdon after months of training and emotionally preparing for such a big challenge. She said "Climbing that mountain was the most physically and mentally challenging thing I had been through (apart from getting sober). Climbing this mountain was more than just walking up a hill for me, it was the most special, amazing, liberating feeling standing at the top of the mountain....AMAZING !!"

After the challenge Jo returned to Essex with a new sense of confidence and pride which has since enabled her to participate in long distance learning. Despite 'failing' school, she has now completed a Level 3 in Mental Health and Level 2 in Understanding Autism, Challenging Behaviour and Mentoring, which has not only helped within her voluntary role, but because both her children are autistic, she has grown as a parent too which has had a positive impact on her home life. 

Not content with all that she had achieved, the sky really was the limit as Jo made the bold decision to take on a skydive raising over £200 for Motivated Minds whilst falling fearlessly from a great height! Carla Andrews, Managing Director of Motivated Minds said "Jo has made a spectacular transition from stay at home Mum shackled to modern day unhealthy coping strategies, to a courageous individual inspiring others to reach new heights."

She continued "not only am I incredibly grateful to Jo for her hard work and dedication but I'm very proud to have had the privilege of being part of her journey. At Motivated Minds we want to see people overcome barriers and achieve great things, and Jo has done this in abundance. She is a real inspiration, and her journey has only just begun!".

Jo now leads a weekly support group called 'A Cup Of Kindness' which is followed by a craft class delivered by her Mum who is always there for moral support - which Jo admits helps a lot with her anxiety. She said "I get a lot from helping and relating to others, I have been there so I know how it feels and I want to be a wellbeing champion who whole-heartedly believes in people." She added "I still to this day find it strange when someone says 'Jo what you said has really helped me', it still astonishes me."

Carla concluded "Jo has been at Motivated Minds for nearly 3 years and has taken her voluntary role by storm. While some give a little, Jo has given everything, and this has transformed her life. All we can do is provide opportunities for our team to grow, develop, and meet new people along the way, it is Jo's passion and drive that has led her to get the most from volunteering with us, and we look forward to more life changing successes over the coming years."

Jo added "I owe a lot to Carla for seeing so much potential in me, she sees more than just my diagnoses, and sees beyond my past, she has always just treated me with kindness and respect. She helped me realise that I have the tools, I just needed the help to find them and to be shown the ability to use them and I haven’t stopped since"

Volunteers’ Week is an annual celebration of the contribution millions of people make across the UK through volunteering and takes place every year between 1-7th June. If you would like to volunteer with Motivated Minds get in touch with Carla on 07846 209846. From tradesmen to help renovate their new Happy Hub in Eastgate, to volunteer counsellors, and Walk 4 Wellness leaders, they have a role for everyone.

[furinjuru]

Well you leave me no choice, now I have to ask you to tell me about some SayoTsugu AU's

Well okay then! Quick disclaimer, I mostly build modern AUs. If you want more fantasy AUs, you can go ahead and check my partner in SayoTsugu, @philosophy-of-a-hated-person. The two of us kinda just scream SayoTsugu ideas in each other’s faces, so they helped me with AU ideas I have, and vice-versa.

I’ll use the AU idea I got from the most recent event, which is a delinquent AU. Although I will say that we made most of these headcanons after seeing the cards but before the event launched, so we had no idea what the story was and kinda just made assumptions based on the cards. And we also altered a few facts, but not too much

-After graduating from middle school, Sayo finally gets tired of being compared to Hina. She goes to a different school from Hina on purpose, and strives to be Hina’s exact opposite. Since Hina is a goody-two-shoes, that means Sayo is a total delinquent.

-In a year, she becomes Hanasakigawa’s top delinquent, and the others there consider her as sort of a leader.

-Over at Haneoka, there are two groups of delinquents. The stereotypical delinquents, and the ‘good’ delinquents, led by Tomoe (based off that one convo where she said if she sees someone littering in front of her, she’ll make them regret it). If Tomoe sees you littering, she’ll look around to see if Ako is nearby (because she doesn’t want to be a bad example) before beating the crap out of you, although she does make sure to carry you to the nurse’s office and leaving a note telling you not to litter anymore.

-Tsugumi is a member of the student council and disciplinary committee, so she deals with both groups of delinquents often. Since Tomoe and Tsugu are still childhood friends in this AU, Tomoe would apologize and understand what she did was wrong, and if any of her members got in trouble she’s willing to take he punishment in their place. So they don’t have much issues with the student council, and Tsugu has to admit that Haneoka is a lot cleaner now. On the other hand, the other group aren’t nearly as friendly with Tsugu.

-One day, Sayo was asked to pick up Hina by their parents. While she waits, she notices that her wallet is looking a bit empty. She looks around and spots a nervous girl who’s all alone. Sayo walks up to her and starts intimidating her before asking her for money, which the girl shakily hands over before running away.

-Hina comes a bit later, and they walk home together (Sayo keeps some distance between them since she doesn’t want to look weak, but also because if some of her enemies see her, she doesn’t want them to target Hina as well). Hina says she’s hungry and tells Sayo of a place that sells really good fries. And although Sayo is a delinquent, she gets really excited over fries, so she agrees.

-All is well, they sit down at a table while the nice woman makes their food. Until someone walks through the door. The newcomer looks at Sayo, she looks back, and the girl gasps. “It’s you!”

-Sayo finds out that this is Hina’s underclassman, Tsugumi. After she finds out what happened between them, Hina tells Sayo to return the money or else she’ll tell their parents, and Sayo obliges.

-But after that certain incident, Sayo feels herself being drawn to the cafe more often. Half because the fries were really good, and half to tip Tsugu as an apology for what happened, even when Tsugu already forgave her.

-She picks up Hina from Haneoka a lot more. One day, she walks by an alley when out of the corner of her eye she spots Tsugu being cornered by the Haneoka delinquents, and she chases them off. The next time she stops by at Hazawa Coffee, Tsugu gives her a free load of fries as thanks.

-One day, Himari goes to confront the Haneoka because they’ve been causing trouble with Tomoe’s group, and she gets a beating in return. Sayo, who’s about to pick up Hina, sees this and even though it’s not Tsugu, rushes to help Himari. All of the Haneko delinquents run away, and when Sayo kneels down to observe Himari’s injuries, Tomoe appears from behind her.

-Although she doesn’t know too much about Hanasakigawa, she knows a lot about Sayo because of how famous she is for her aggressive fighting style. She’s filled with rage, because she thinks Sayo was the one who just beat up Himari.

-Tomoe shoves Sayo away hard, while trying to see if Himari is still conscious. Sayo, pissed off, starts glaring at Tomoe like she’s trying to pick a fight. And of course, they do.

-Tsugu hears about what happened from Tomoe, and next time Sayo comes into Hazawa Coffee Tsugu straight up tells her “Please don’t pick fights with my friends.” Sayo rolls her eyes, because it wouldn’t have happened if Tomoe didn’t shove her, but she agrees that she won’t beat up her friends. To which Tsugu replies “You shouldn’t stop beating people up just because they’re my friends, you should stop beating people up altogether!”

-After that, Sayo stays away from Haneoka for a bit, because she doesn’t want to meet Tomoe again. The next time she has to pick up Hina, however, she passes by the usual alley she saves Tsugu in.

-And there, she finds a heavily bruised and battered Tsugu, while the last of Haneoka’s delinquents run away from the scene. Sayo panics, but rushes Tsugu to the nurse’s office and waits until she wakes up. Sayo mutters to herself “I’m going to find those delinquents, and I’m going to beat them all up,” and goes to leave, ignoring Tsugu’s protests.

-She walks out of the nurse’s office, and she immediately bumps into Tomoe. Tomoe heard about what happened from Himari and rushed to the nurse’s office, but she overheard what Sayo said to herself, but only the last part (”I’m going to beat them all up”)

-Without warning, Tomoe drags Sayo far away from the nurse’s office to a more secluded spot before sucker punching her. Sayo’s too emotionally drained to fight back, so she takes every punch Tomoe deals until her signature facemask is soaked with blood. Tomoe only stops when Tsugu and Himari pull them away from each other.

-Tsugu explains everything, and although Tomoe doesn’t approve of how close the two are, she does apologize for the misunderstanding (only the second one, since they didn’t clear up the first misunderstanding).

-Since Sayo’s current facemask is covered in blood, Tsugu gives her a new one (the one in her Live2D model with the bunny print at the front)

-She gets laughed at the first time she wears it, but she still does because it’s a gift from Tsugu. When one of the Haneoka delinquents laugh at her, though, she’s stuck between wanting to beat their faces in and Tsugu telling her not to.

-Eventually Tomoe does realize Sayo is a good person. So when the Haneoka delinquents try to attack Hina as retaliation because they’re pissed at Sayo, Tomoe comes to save the day.

That’s basically the main story. Other fun side-chapters could include:

-Sayo knowing how much Tsugu likes sweets, so she practices how to make cookies from scratch. So one morning she drops by at Tsugu’s class to give her the cookies and her classmates are in shock because of the most intimidating delinquent from one school over is in their class just to give Tsugu a bag of cookies.

-So Sayo skipped class to give Tsugu those cookies. In her mind, it was worth it.

-Before she leaves, she turns around and glares at the nearest girl. “The fuck you lookin’ at?” And immediately they lower their heads, but Tsugu can’t help but giggle a bit.

-With how Tomoe saves Hina, you can kinda turn TomoHina as a possible side-pairing?

-Sayo finds out that Tsugu is really into shoujo mangas and…kabedon, chin-in-hand, literally any shoujo manga cliche. And it makes Tsugu blush so much.

This AU gave us other ideas too, like a Mangaka AU. But this one is the most fleshed out, so that’s why this is the one I’m posting

[lala-kate]

The Nightwatch: Chapter 4

No--you’re not hallucinating. And if you’re still interested in reading, then you’re my hero. Much love to the MM fandom. I hope you enjoy this. 

You can also read it on AO3 or ff.net. 

A nudge on his shoulder pulled him out of sleep into a semi-awakened state.  The sun was too bright for early morning, so he must have slept in, and he blinked repeatedly in protest as his body begged him to linger in bed even longer. But something was off, he began to realize as he sensed a rhythmic breathing that wasn’t his own, noting that there was a warm, decidedly feminine form lying across his chest, and his bare chest at that.

Mary. Mary had come to his bedroom last night. And his mother was currently standing over them trying to nudge him awake.

His eyes flew wide open, and he breathed in through his nose, careful not to move too quickly lest he disturb the woman who’d cried into his pajamas last night and kissed his naked skin. But Mary nuzzled in closer, effectively pinning him to his bed in full view of his mother even though her eyes were still closed.

He wished his were at the moment. Even with them wide open, he couldn’t make out his mother’s expression at all. Isobel gazed at him wordlessly, her eyes moving to Mary’s bare arms dotted with a patchwork of ugly purple splotches left by a husband Matthew wanted to kill with his own two hands.

“She couldn’t sleep,” he whispered, watching as his mother nodded once.

“Well, she’s sleeping now, “ Isobel replied as her eyes creased in thought. “I daresay she needs it.” She then looked back at him before turning and walking out of his bedroom.

What in God’s name had just happened?

Warm breaths feathered across his neck, tracing an invisible line between her form and his heart. He tugged the blanket back over them, his fingers moving to trace the curves of her back now that watchful eyes were gone. She sighed into him, pale lips moving as her arm possessed him further, his body responding all too quickly to such an intimate touch.

Mary Carlisle had quickly become everything to him. And he would make sure she never had to fear that bastard of a husband of hers ever again.

He laid there with her, not daring to move as morning’s shadows moved stealthily across his bedroom marking time’s all too hasty passage. He’d gladly stay wrapped up with her like this all day if his blasted bladder would leave him alone, but it was complaining insistently now, letting him know all too clearly that he had to either get up or make a mess of himself in more ways than one.

“Are you alright?”

Her voice was muffled against his chest, it’s edges softened by sleep and spent tears.

“I’m fine,” he replied, rubbing her back with an open palm. “I just desperately need to visit the loo.”

She sat up quickly  at this, her pillow-mussed hair the most adorable sight he’d ever beheld.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, running fingers through hair sticking up several ways at once. “I didn’t mean--”

“It’s alright, Mary,” he breathed, cupping her cheek in his palm, willing himself not to wince at the black and puffy eye she was sporting. Her lip was still swollen, and she looked somehow smaller than she had last night. “No need to worry over a silly thing like this.”

“It’s not silly,” she murmurs, swallowing self-consciously. “At least not when you’re the one who has to go.”

He chuckled as she stood, allowing him to slide his body to the side of the bed before she both located and handed him his prosthesis.

“Can I help?” she questioned as he began to attach it to his leg. He paused to look up at her, half-touched, half-mortified at what he was allowing her to watch.

“I’m used to it,” he stated, feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn. She nodded, taking a step back with a look of uncertainty that made his stomach cinch. “But if you truly want to assist me…”

His words faded as her eyes met his head-on, their bruised and haunted quality crying out for reassurance just as assuredly as if she’d spoken.

“You don’t have to coddle me, you know,” she uttered, reading his thoughts as clearly as if they were in print.

“No,” he returned. “But I’d like to help take care of you, if you don’t mind, that is.”

She knelt in front of him then, touching where living flesh met science, helping to secure his artificial limb, her breath tickling the bare skin of his leg.

“Only if you don’t mind that I want to help take care of you, too.”

Her words were resolute, spoken with a resolve he couldn’t help but admire.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mary Rose,” he grinned, melting at the small smile that spreads across battered features. He utterly refused to call her Mary Carlisle.

“Don’t you forget it, soldier,” she returned, leaning over to kiss him gently, stealing yet another piece of his heart with deft fingers. “Should I try to sneak back into my room now?”

His expression fell, straightening her spine at once.

“Mother was in here earlier this morning,” he confessed, feeling her exhale across his skin. “She’s already aware that you slept in here last night.”

“Thank God we decided to leave our clothes on,” she muttered, his ears now hot enough to melt wax.

“Well, some of our clothes, anyway,” he noted as he reached for his discarded pajama top. She blushed then, the pink nearly invisible under angry purple, yellow and black splotches, but there all the same. “I should put this on, I suppose,” he added. “Mother seeing me shirtless once in one day is one time too many.”

She smiled as she grabbed up her robe and slid it onto her body.

“If you hadn’t stopped things…” she began, her hands hesitating as they reached for her sash.

Her brows flickered into her scalp as he reached out to cup her cheek.

“I didn’t want to stop things,” he confessed with a lopsided smile. “Believe me. But it was the right thing to do.”

She nodded as she stood, stepping back to allow him the room he needed to grab a hold of his cane and push himself upright. She gazed at him with something akin to wonder, something he wasn’t used to seeing when eyes fell on his injured body. He felt taller when he was with her, taller and complete in a manner no other human being had ever made him feel.

“Well,” she muttered as she secured her robe and tightened it around her waist. “I’ll leave you to it then.”  

Eyes held each other for a breathless moment, teasing, beckoning, wanting until he could stand it no longer. He leaned forward to kiss her, nearly missing her in his trajectory and losing his balance in the process. She braced her arms against his chest, steadying him as he righted himself with his cane, looking back at him in concern.

“Are you alright?”

His skin burned as he looked into her eyes.

“Other than being completely and utterly mortified, I’m peachy.”

She grinned then, feathering a kiss across his lips the nearly set him on fire.

“Don’t be mortified,” she breathed. “After all, I’m the one who has to go out there and face your mother.”

His head dropped with his exhale.

“I think that task has been assigned to us both.” He looked at his bedroom door which his mother had thankfully closed when she’d exited earlier. His palm rubbed his chin, and he wondered just what Isobel had been thinking since finding them wrapped up together, half-naked, emotionally spent, and loathe to let each other go.

“I’m the one who came to your bedroom,” she added. “After showing up unexpectedly on your doorstep last night. Technically, I’m the instigator in all of this.”

Her gaze hollowed, making a chill ran up his good leg.

“No. None of this is your fault, Mary,” he assured her. “What that husband of yours did to you, the fact that you needed a safe place to stay, that you couldn’t sleep after…” The words stuck in his throat, clinging to his esophagus as if they’d been coated in glue. “After he hurt you.”

She swallowed loudly enough for him to hear, and he wondered if she’d feared for her life last night, if she’d prayed someone would hear her screams and come to her aid, if she’d tried to fight back as punches flew and her home shattered at her feet.

“I hate him,” Matthew said, his throat burning as if his sentence were made of fire. “So help me, Mary, if I ever meet the man face to face, I may just…”

“No.”

Her voice was steady, her gaze resolute.

“The fact that I’ve dragged you into the middle of my divorce is bad enough,” she said, her eyes falling yet again. “If anything happened to you because of me, I’d...I’d never be able to live with myself, Matthew.”

He cupped her chin in his hand, drawing her gaze back to his, dotting a kiss to lips swollen by the wrong means.

“I jumped feet first into the middle of your divorce,” he corrected. “There was no dragging necessary.” Her chin quivered as her fingers clutched his pajama top, and he wrapped one arm around her as she wrapped both of hers around his waist. “I love you. Remember? We’re in this together, you and I.”

She nodded, still reluctant to look at him.

“I remember,” she managed. “I just don’t understand why. Why you love me, I mean.”

He caressed where Richard had left marks, wiping a stray tear onto his thumb, absorbing this small piece of her into his very marrow.

“Because you’re a part of me, now,” he replied. “Because you fit me far better than my artificial leg ever could.”

She tried to smile through insistent tears, allowing him to pull her into his chest as he kissed her hair.

“I only pray I don’t contaminate you,” she whispered.

“Not going to happen,” he insisted. “You’re too pure for that, Mary, far better than you think you are.”  He felt her shake her head into his chest, and his free hand reached up to cup her hair, her skull, her very being to try to show her what was so evident to him.  “You’re not the person that Richard has led you to believe you are.”

She hiccuped and stood up straight.

“I’m not sure I’m all you think I am, either.”

Her words cracked open as they fell off her lips.

“No,” he agreed, surprising her. “You’re more.”

She shook her head, looking into him as no one ever had.

“I hope I’m allowed to be your Mary,” she began. “For all eternity.”

He felt her tremble, and he kissed her forehead, carefully avoiding the side purpled by a man’s fist.

“You’ll always be my Mary,” he breathed. “And I’m all the luckier for it.”

A small commotion was heard from the kitchen, and she stepped away from him, smiling as she wiped her eyes.

“I should go and help your mother,” she said. “After all, she gave me a place to sleep last night. The least I can do is help her with breakfast.”

“I’ll join you momentarily,” he stated, smiling at her as she opened his bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. He heard voices and sent up a prayer that his mother’s sense and tact would prevail over the instinct to protect her adult son. But he had to relieve himself, there was no way around it, so he made his way to the loo, gratified to hear what sounded like congenial conversation being had between the two women in his life.

His thoughts raced as he washed his hands, and he gazed into the small mirror, touching the cheek she’d kissed, closing his eyes as her scent washed over him. She was a goddess, his Mary, and he be damned if any man would ever lay a finger on her again, especially Richard Carlisle.

He splashed water on his face, drying it with a towel as his mind formulated a plan that made sense to him. He’d visit the club this afternoon, would let the band know why their lead singer had been unable to perform last night and would ask them to let him know if Mary’s husband showed up trying to find her. In the meantime, he’d contact his mother’s cousin, a police superintendent from Hastings to ask for his advice in how to best proceed.

Yes. This was good. This was progress. Simply waiting for Richard to make the next move was no good at all.

Plan in mind, he made his way toward the kitchen, the scents of toast and eggs making his stomach rumble as Mary brought him a cup of tea.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved to see her looking more relaxed than she had in his bedroom.

“Here you go, dear,” Isobel cut in, handing Matthew a plate as he sat down at the small table. “Mary, why don’t you sit down and eat, too. I suspect you need nourishment.”

The younger woman nodded and sat down beside him, and he dared a quick squeeze to her knee while his mother wasn’t looking.

“You should eat, too, Mother,” he said.

“I’ve already eaten,” Isobel clarified, making her way towards the table with a plate for Mary. “But I’ll join the two of you for another cup of tea.”

They ate in silence a few moments, each afraid to speak, each wondering if one stray train of thought would launch an amiable breakfast into a confrontation nobody wanted.

“I’m sorry you had difficulty sleeping, Mary,” Isobel finally stated, bypassing small talk and getting right to the point. “I suppose you had to much on your mind.”

Mary took a slow sip of her tea, setting her cup down before making eye contact with the older woman.

“I did,” she replied. “And still do, to be honest.”  Isobel nodded, eyeing Mary before directing her attention towards her son.

“Are you planning on contacting the authorities?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Their answers clashed mid-air, bringing their eyes together even as their ideas collided.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mary stated. “Richard is volatile.”

“Which is why he needs to be in jail,” Matthew cut in, reaching over to touch her arm. “He can’t be allowed to roam around free, Mary, not after what he did to you.”

“But if he catches up with you--”

“He won’t,” Matthew insisted. “What did you say that he knew about us? That you were seeing someone? He doesn’t know my name or where I live, does he?”

Mary paused and looked down at her tea.

“No,” she confessed. “Thank God. But that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t discover both of those things if he chose to go digging.”

“Nor does it mean that he will,” Matthew said, willing his voice to sound as calm and reasonable as it could. “Mary, I refuse to live in fear of this man. He needs to face the consequences of what he did to you.”

She began to worry her hands, clasping them tightly together in order to keep them from trembling.

“He’ll make it sound like it’s my fault,” she uttered. “He always does.”

He scooted his chair closer to hers so he could clasp her hands firmly.

“Look at me,” he insisted, remaining silent until she did just that. “This is not your fault, nor has it ever been.”

“Matthew’s right,” Isobel interjected, instantly capturing both of their attention. “Men who treat women the way he treated you are quite adept at passing the blame off on their victims, even though the responsibility rests solely with them. The Richards of this world must be made to answer for their crimes, Mary. I think you know and believe this.”

Mary’s head fell, her expression far too wary.

“I do,” the younger woman admitted. “But you know how difficult it is to get the authorities to take you seriously when the man in question is your husband.”

Isobel sucked in a breath before taking a deliberate sip of her tea.

“You’ve spoken with the authorities before?” she asked , receiving a slow nod as an answer.

“Several months ago,” Mary replied. “It wasn’t this bad, I mean, he rarely left a mark, he was smart that way. But he twisted my arm so badly that I sprained it, and…”  She paused, taking another sip of tea. “And I decided to report him.”

“Nothing happened?”

The words fell incredulously off his tongue, stinging on their way out.

“He was called into the police station for questioning,” Mary answered. “But when he told them that I sang at a nightclub, that I’d left him and filed for divorce, well, they assumed I was both a gold-digger and a woman of loose morals who got roughed up by a patron one night and decided to blame her husband.”

“Dear God,” Matthew whispered as he clenched his fist repeatedly. He imagined his hands around Richard Carlilse’s throat, could all too easily feel the imagined sensation of his fingers cutting off the man’s air supply, thus forcing him to beg for mercy.

“The husband is usually given the benefit of the doubt,” Mary continued, her shoulders slumping in near defeat. “While the wife is left to fend for herself.”

“It’s so wrong,” Matthew uttered, rubbing his fingers over his scalp.

“It is,”  Isobel agreed. “It’s been wrong for centuries, yet it continues. And you’re right, Mary. It can certainly be more difficult to see justice served in an abusive marriage situation. But it doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. And if you stand up to Richard now, you may protect other women from him, as well as yourself.”

Mary gazed at Isobel, swallowing with difficulty.

“That’s what I want,” she stated. “It’s what I’ve wanted for longer than I can remember now, but it’s so bloody hard sometimes. He has means at his disposal, while I…”  She broke off and shook her head. “I have a job singing at a nightclub just to make ends meet.”

“She’s been trying to divorce him for months,” Matthew added, giving Mary’s hands a gentle squeeze.

“And he doesn’t like that fact, I take it,” Isobel observed, watching Mary slowly shake her head. “Well, I must say that it’s very brave of you to stand up for yourself as you are. Too many women let fear keep them from taking that first step away from an abuser.”

“I don’t feel very brave,” Mary murmured, looking up to meet Isobel’s gaze.

“The bravest souls usually don’t,” Isobel replied with a gentle touch to Mary’s arm. A tear trickled down the younger woman’s cheek, and she wiped her face with her napkin, trying her best to keep her composure in tact.

“I told Mary that she can stay here with us for as long as she needs,” he said, watching his mother carefully. Isobel’s eyes flickered in his direction, claiming his directly before she nodded in agreement.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, straightening her spine. “We’re here to support you in any way that we can.”

Mary shook her head.

“But why? Why would you do this--open up your home, take in a stranger…”

“You’re hardly a stranger,” Matthew argued, remembering the feel of her breasts in his hands.

“I am to your mother,” Mary countered.

“But not to Matthew,” Isobel said. She looked back at her son without blinking before offering him a small smile. “And I trust his judgement.”

He grinned back at her, breathing a silent prayer of thanks for her support in this matter.

“Then I suppose I will, too,” Mary stated, gazing at him with eyes in which he could happily drown. She inhaled and pressed her lips together before clearing her throat. “If both of you really believe that contacting the authorities is the right thing for me to do, then I’ll do it.”

His smiled in relief, drawing a full breath he hoped conveyed confidence. They would do this, he and Mary. They would report her husband, would see justice done so her divorce could be finalized and they would be granted the freedom to actually envision and plan a shared future.

“Good for you,” Isobel stated, giving Mary a smile that warmed him everywhere at once.

“And remember,” Matthew added, once again squeezing Mary’s hand, thanking whatever powers were responsible for bringing her into his life. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Thank God,” Mary breathed, clutching his hand so tightly that he could feel her terror.

[ascendantevolution]

Spiritual Paradox in the Necessity of Duality

Much of the focus of my spiritual growth over these last years has in some shape or form touched on non-duality. It began with being guided to observe instances of polarity - the simplified areas of judgment that snag every living human: black versus white thinking. Male versus female. Christian versus Muslim. Straight versus gay. Religion versus science. Spirituality versus dogmatism. Need I go on?

That focus on duality had led to a profound exploration of dark versus light. In turn, I have been guided to see them not as points of opposition, but as points of balance. My growing understanding has led to a dismantling of an almost innate fear of darkness. In turn, it has unlocked a new and profound perception of the world.

I have been standing between worlds, 3D reality and the spirit world, all my life. In my naive past, I saw them as being 100% exclusive of each other, an either/or perception, which forced choices between them. I found myself veering into the spirit world every once in awhile, sometimes suppressing it (out of fear), and choosing the (imbalance) of staying anchored in the 3D. My shifting perspectives on dark and light has led to a profound need to pull toward the middle.

The middle presents an alternative to either/or thinking: stand in both worlds, to take Spirit into 3D reality, and to bring reality into my spiritual work. As such, this morning, my tarot reading was more clear than ever. Non-duality showed up with a clear message about being authentically human while insisting on being true to my spiritual nature and calling. It was a call to refuse to split the two.

You may be asking, What’s the point?

When we choose to walk the middle path, life becomes easier. The either/or split of mind or heart instead becomes a guiding of the mind with the heart - balancing our perspective, helping to guide us, moment to moment, away from oversimplified judgment to discernment. Discernment provides a profound clarity that can guide us through the minefields of life where we are expected to pick sides or are pressured to be something that we are not.

The polarities lead to dysfunctional agreements within a culture rife with a vested interest in keeping polarities alive and well. As long as we are kept fighting, living in fear, suffering, shaming and feeling ashamed, we are powerless to step fully into ourselves as we are meant to be in life - fully self-actualized and living with purpose.

Perhaps an example would be helpful.

I have been on the spiritual dojo mat more times than I wish to count. I have been bruised and battered and humbled. In trying to carry spirituality into my 3D world, perhaps my greatest sparring partner has been my relationship with one of my parents. Background: I have suffered a lifetime of being disempowered by someone who is supposed to love me most in the world - my mother. My ego has reacted in so many ways, some of which I am embarrassed to admit. Much of that reaction has been as a result of the on-going, toxic relating. The conflict that has been the central point of my struggle in being a so-called “spiritual person” has been as the result of oscillating between two polarized ends of this painful issue.

On one end, I was psychologically and emotionally abused, not only as a child, but into adulthood. It took me decades to see that, every time I had an interaction with my mother, I would walk away injured and slip into a depression for the the following weeks. The result of continuing to put myself in harm’s way was a self-defeating, self-sabotaging, self-destructive streak that was ultimately as a result of seeing myself as a victim. Who had the power to make it stop? Me. And only me.

On the other, polar end was a culture that demands a sense of duty and obligation to parents and family, no matter what. Well, in our culture, physical abuse has become an acceptable reason to part from family. Psychological abuse can be just as insidious as physical abuse, and yet, we are supposed laugh off painful, passive aggressive “jokes” and ignore terrible comments and behavior because “that’s just how your mom is.” The scars of prolonged exposure are deep and impact how I “do” life. And although my counselor was helpful to me warming up to the idea of my eventual divorce from my mother, I avoided the thought because the thought, all by itself, induced a weighty guilt that was just too great. I mean, how can one abandon their parents? That’s a sin, isn’t it?

Finally, as with many other things that I have viewed from one end or the other, or swung wildly between, creating emotional and therefore physical and spiritual instability, I finally realized that there was a space in the middle. No longer sitting in the victim polarity, I decided that I would no longer accept abuse, which meant I had the right to protect myself from my parent, which meant that I couldn't be around her. On the other polar end, I was finally able to reconcile that I the only duty I ultimately have is to myself. I can no longer be beholden to a culture that accepts abuse as a norm in an effort to keep the peace and families together. I have no duty to a culture that does not recognize my pain and my need to be free of it.

The middle path helped me to find a calm and “spiritual” perspective that allows for all factors to coexist in honest reality, from what lies in the polarities to everything in between: The abuse happened, and my suffering has led to greater wisdom and empathy in many ways, and the abuse can happen no more; my mother is a deeply troubled individual with her own wounds, and she does the best she can with what she has, and for that I feel great compassion, and I can no longer allow the abuse to happen because she refuses to work to heal herself; I can see the silver linings, and I can love her unconditionally and with gratitude for all that she has given me that has been good, and the abuse can not be allowed to happen any longer.

Similar lessons have brought me to the middle, especially in the arenas of man versus woman and religious versus scientific. By finding the value of both ends, and all that stands between them, I find myself appreciating the benefits, hindrances, and balance of it all. I also can now clearly see that, when my ego sinks into duality, I suffer. I slip into self-doubt because I am subject to the judgments of those who are invested in living from the polar ends. As much as my fellow victims may be mystified by my audacity, as much as my culture may shame me for my choice, I cannot betray myself anymore. We are not meant to live in doubt of ourselves.

Non-duality means rising above 3D vision to observe the truth of situations, to take an accounting that is objective, to judge without being judgmental, to be free of the heat of explosive, emotional reaction. In the end, it is a freeing gift.

Photo by Kourtney Gundersen

[allyinthekeyofx]

Falling 1/1

REVIVAL - ‘Home Again’

I can pinpoint the exact moment I first realised I loved her. 

 She was shouting at me; drawing herself up to her full height, where even in those punishing 3” heels she used to wear, I was still head and shoulders above her.  In stature at least.  But at that moment I felt all of about two feet tall as she berated me for almost getting killed.  Again. For ditching her.  Again. 

 I had gone haring across the country on a tenuous lead that was no more substantial than a curl of smoke, drifting lazily upwards even as it evaporated in to the ether of my obsession.  Although for once, my brush with mortality had less to do with the case-that-wasn’t-a-case and everything to do with the fact I had decided that sleep could be negated in favour of driving back home so as to be back in the office bright and early Monday morning before she realised I’d even been gone. 

One less report she would have to deliver.

 And I’d so very nearly made it until a shadow suddenly appeared on the road in front of me, twin laser beams of green light coming out of the darkness as it suddenly froze in the road in front of me, caught in the glare of the metal monster which bore down upon it with frightening speed.

 I had a split second to make the choice – keep the car steady and hit the dog or veer off to the right and hit God knows what.

  I’ve always had a soft spot for dogs.  Even mangy street mutts such as this one.  Because even mangy street mutts had someone somewhere relying on them;  so for the sake of a possible Mrs mangy, I twisted the wheel sharply, felt the car pulling against me on the rain-slick road and.....and....yeah, the details part kind of eluded me from there on.  A slow motion journey in to nothingness as everything stopped aside from own body as I was thrown forwards in to the airbag which, given the fact I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, pretty much saved my life.  

I woke up two days later, battered and bruised to find that the concerned Scully who was seated at my bedside quickly morphed in to royally pissed Scully when she realised I was going to be ok.  That I hadn’t actually managed to ditch her permanently.  

A moderately bad concussion, another bump to further mar my less than perfect nose and a pretty spectacular whiplash were my rewards for trying to keep Mrs Mangy from becoming a canine widow.  Scully, despite at one time being the rather unwilling owner of a mangy mutt herself, did not share in my enthusiasm for canine-kind in general and had made her feelings clear.

Despite that, being as no one else wanted the job, she accompanied me home the next day to ensure I didn’t slip in to a coma whilst I slept. I could have saved her the trouble since I hardly slept anyway but back then she didn’t know that.  She still laboured under the delusion that, outside of work, I actually led something that resembled a normal life.

I think it was the first time she had ever been in my apartment for reasons other than either watching me pace like a caged animal as I waited for a call or a sign or some other damn thing to justify my reason for being or to drop me off at the end of another fun day in Mulderland.

Being here in a Mulder-sitting capacity was unchartered territory for both of us and the atmosphere was so highly charged I could practically see sparks flying off that red hair of hers.  Red hair equals temper.  Or at least in Scully it does.  On occasion, I’ve even seen her stamp her foot to get her point across.

No foot stamping that day though.  Just white hot anger as I engaged in a spot of Scully baiting. We’d been working together for a relatively short time – six months....maybe eight at a push and we were a long way from being the cohesive partnership we eventually became and, at that point she was still pretty much whole.  Nothing much had personally impacted her on this crusade of mine.  Aside from a fairly nasty brush with a swarm of blood-sucking prehistoric flying bugs that almost killed her on what should have been a nice trip to the forest, she was still the same Scully who had shook my hand with a firmness that belied her delicate stature as she enthusiastically proclaimed that she was ‘looking forward’ to working with me.

I’m not sure on what she based that assertion because aside from a moment in the spotlight where I had mentally danced with a serial killer inside his head – a dance that finally saw him fry in the electric chair after his avenues of avoidance had all been exhausted – there was nothing that would really warrant such a heady proclamation; in fact most people generally avoided being seen with me at all costs just in case the spooky was communicable.

I often wonder if, had she known how often I would leave her behind, whether she would have withdrawn her hand and turn tailed back out the door and right back to normality.  But of course she hadn’t known. How could she?  

So there she was, all 5 feet 3 inches of fire, ice and fury as she vented her anger at me and I was frankly amazed that my argumentative erstwhile partner seemed so intent on keeping me out of harm's way.

Before she arrived in my life, I had been In no way looking to find a Mrs Spooky to play perfect partners with in the X-Files office and initially I had only given her a couple of weeks before she decided I wasn’t for her and crept back to Quantico with her tail between those little legs of hers.

But she had stayed.  And like a bolt out of the blue it hit me.  Even as her face got redder and the frown lines deepened across her forehead as she attempted to at least get a justification out of me as to why I refused to allow her to be my partner in anything but name, I realised that, despite myself, I wanted her there with me and even more than that, I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

I wanted someone with me who cared enough to be pissed off that I had engaged in yet another round of solitaire, who cared enough to berate me for putting myself at risk, who ended her tirade as she has so often done since that night, not with anger, but with eyes downcast, to hide the shimmer and sheen of unshed tears. Tears of frustration that I had gone.  Tears of relief that I was there.  That my self destruct button had not yet been fully depressed.

“You could have died”

Slowly she had lifted her head and for the first time, I think I fell just a tiny bit in love with her.  This woman who had somehow found a way through my defensive barriers and had made me feel that maybe, just maybe, I was worth saving.

I hadn’t known what to say.  I had courted disaster so many times that to suddenly have to justify it, to make amends for it, momentarily floored me.

Because no one had really ever cared before.  I’d been hauled up in front of my superiors on numerous occasions, but only to justify the cost to the Bureau, never the cost to myself. In fact, I’d never even really thought about the personal cost, certainly there was no one who cared to question me on it.

Until that moment of clarity where angry Scully and concerned Scully suddenly merged into one. And I realised that for the first time in many years, I was no longer accountable just to myself.

Oh yes. I fell in love with her that night so many years ago.

And now, as I watch her from my vantage point in the hospital corridor, I feel like I have been transported back to that time in my apartment, when I first realised that maybe, just maybe, being with her was preferable to being without.  That no matter what came after, I was forever changed by her.  

She looks tired. She’s lost weight recently and the angles of her face are sharper, more defined. It reminds me of how she looked when the cancer was destroying her from within. The energy she used up just fighting to stay whole, to carry on working. 

 To stop me from falling.  

I didn’t realise it at the time.  The sacrifices she made, refusing stronger pain relief right up to the end to try to keep working beside me, hiding so much from me regarding her health that ironically she actually ditched me on a daily basis.  Not physically of course, but emotionally she detached herself from everyone who cared about her. I never questioned her on it.  If anyone understood her reasoning it was me.  And deep down, there was a small, selfish part of me that needed her there no matter what the cost to her health.  

I’ve always been ashamed of that.

And that’s why I’m here.  

For all the times I ditched her when she needed me.  For all the times I let her fight her battles alone.  For pushing her away and out of my life because I couldn’t let go of the fact that everything she went through was down to me.  My work, my crusade, my selfishness.  I’m not a fool.  I know I destroyed the only good thing I’ve ever found in my sorry excuse for a life.  I pushed and pushed and pushed and when that didn’t work I simply retreated from her. Locked in a prison of my own making as she tried so hard to find a way to reach me.  

Eventually she gave up.  Exiting my life in order to finally start living her own.  But, in typical Scully fashion, she had remained on the peripherals. Keeping half an eye on me in case I should fall too far, ensuring still, that I managed to stay upright even though she wasn’t physically with me anymore. 

And now it feels as though we have come full circle.  Back where we began.  Dancing around each other just like we did in the beginning. But now our dance is practiced, honed to perfection over the years as I realise that our music was never really silenced, merely muted enough for us to hear each other again.

I pull out my phone and hit the speed dial that will connect me to her and I see her start slightly as her phone springs to life.  There’s no sound though – in deference to her surroundings she has set it to silent, but the soft vibration has pulled her attention from her Mother.  I see her frown slightly as she looks at the display and for a second I am sure she will choose to ignore my call with an angry swipe across the screen.  I wouldn’t blame her.  It wouldn’t be the first time I have disturbed her at an inappropriate time.

But she connects the call, bringing up her free hand and pinching the bridge of her nose even as she briefly closes her eyes.  She has a headache. Even from this distance I can tell. A tension headache most likely.  Brought about from her long hours of vigil at her Mother’s bedside. But the sight of Scully with a headache still makes my pulse quicken in mild panic.  Some memories are impossible to erase.

Her voice is guarded. No doubt wondering why I am phoning her at 3:00am and not tucked up in bed where I should be.  I’d promised her earlier in the day that I would be sure to get some sleep. 

 I lied.  Just like I’ve lied to her so many times before.

“Yeah?”

I pause for a second, hoping I’m doing the right thing, intruding where really, I no longer have a right to intrude.

“I’m here”

A sharp intake of breath as she jerks her head up and her eyes lock with mine through the small window of glass that centres the ICU door. She didn’t expect me to come.  Not in the middle of the night.  Not in the middle of a case when our reinstatement on the X-Files is, to me at least, like a heady ride on a rollercoaster.  Maybe five years ago she would have expected it. But so much has changed since then.

I hover outside the door, unsure as to whether I should let her come to me or I should go to her.  But my indecision lasts only a few seconds before I softly step inside and cross the few feet that separate us. Her eyes have filmed over with unshed tears but she allows herself a tremulous smile.

“Hi”

I don’t answer.  I’m not sure anything coherent would get past the lump that has lodged itself firmly in the back of my throat. So instead I drop a hand on to the crown of her head, smoothing her hair back from her face as I let my hand follow the contours of her neck until it rests on her shoulder.  

And even as a single tear escapes its confines to track it’s way down her pale skin, she reaches up and entwines her small fingers around mine.  Holding on tightly.

 To stop herself from falling.

 End