#also molly brought this up on purpose to guilt him

[username8746489]

He had to grapple with that information for the rest of his stay at the hospital

[urne-buriall]

when I'm writing I sometimes draw on images I've seen that evoked some scene or feeling. here's one that got a direct reference today - the auto shop bible verses:

this gave me such a feel for the setting. that haunting demand for repentance, that seething and insidious religious guilt/pressure when you're getting you're freaking car repaired. a huge part of the classic Southern Gothic genre that I wanted to draw includes this specific brand of Christianity and an obsession with sin that hangs like a Sword of Damocles above the heads of the characters/culture, and this just neatly summed it up

on a different note, we also met a ghost today who is surprisingly coherent, not unlike Molly from "Roadkill", which Dean broadly recalls

most often, spn went for the scary, angry, murderous ghosts, but I like variety and wanted to see this again, a ghost we could really feel for

and boy, does Dean feel for him. it's on purpose that Eli was born the same year, died as a teen. I think Dean looks at him and sees his own stunted adolescence. and while he's the one to criticize the "Lifetime movie" moment around Eli's sexuality, he's the one that brought it up! because, why, Dean? because you want the chance to tell this gay 90s teenager that "it's not a big deal." because you want somebody to have said that to your closeted teenage self

graves we filled before the fire, pt. iii

the crushing bitterness of a ghost with a crush.

[julandran]

They said, “No.”

It started as a bit of a joke. “We are The Mighty Nein.” Big no. Hard pass. The unwanted underdogs. The players and characters poked fun at Liam/Caleb’s accent, so he gently poked back. And yet…

It stuck. It became an ethos. Standing up for the little guy. Leaving a place just a little bit better than you found it. Doing what’s right, even if you have to work with someone of questionable morals, break a few unjust laws, or risk an international incident along the way. And most of all, standing up for each other.

In their finest moments, the Nein have protected each of their members from threats big and small, and even from themselves. They shielded Nott/Veth from anti-goblin bigotry and from her own alcohol-fueled recklessness. Since her transformation back to her original halfling form, they have done everything in their power to ensure that she can return to her family when the adventuring is done. They have backed up Beau as she sorted out her complex relationships with both the Cobalt Soul and her family, helped her explore possible paths outside those spheres, and reminded her of her value to the group when she needed it. They have guided Caleb out of the shadows and ashes of guilt he was wallowing in, and stood by his side as he confronted the monsters from his childhood. They have shown Jester that there is value in her joy and mischief, but it’s also okay to express her sadness and anger. They have let Fjord find his way to who he wants to be, offering advice or magical implements in times of need, but mostly just accompanying him on the journey with acceptance. They have coaxed Yasha out of her shell, helping her to remember and process the tragedies of her past, while showing her that she is not disposable by freeing her from physical and mental captivity, and refusing to blame her for actions she didn’t choose. They have brought Caduceus out into the world to see more of the Wildmother’s domain, and allowed him to consider that obligations are not always what we have been led to believe they are.

And Molly… oh, and Molly.

They never gave up on Molly. After he died, they honored his legacy while holding onto a spark of hope that he would rise again as he had once before. After the Tomb Takers brought Lucien back in all his selfish, egotistical glory, The Mighty Nein persisted in their belief that Mollymauk was still a part of him that could be brought forth and saved. They believed it so hard – and continued to ask for it in the midst of the Astral Sea, where dreams can be made manifest, and the gods are less restrained by the Divine Gate – that they made it true. They clung so tightly to their friend that they loved him back into existence like the Velveteen Rabbit. They entered the final fight in Cognouza with eight party members and came out with nine.

The Nonagon and the Somnovem wanted power. Wanted control over all of existence for a host of disparate reasons. And the Mighty Nein said, “No.”

Uk’otoa wanted freedom, to carry out its purpose of destruction and domination. The Mighty Nein said, “No.” Avantika wanted a fraction of that power granted by proximity and loyalty to the leviathan. And the Mighty Nein said, “No.”

Trent Ikithon wanted power – arcane, political, and personal. He wanted Bren back under his thumb. He wanted Essek under his control as a means of influencing the Kryn Dynasty, as well. The Mighty Nein severed the tendrils of his web one by one, saying over and over, “No.”

Whether they faced a single nergaliid, a small pack of regular gnolls, a complex community of pirates, a powerful hag, the governments of warring nations, or a hive-mind of ancient archmages inhabiting a living city, The Mighty Nein have rarely hesitated to stand up for what they knew to be right. And when faced with circumstances they knew to be wrong…

they…

said…

“No.”

Big no. Hard pass. A mighty “Nein!”

[comfortwriting]

Unbreak My Heart - F.W

Fred Weasley X Reader Part 2 of ‘Call Out My Name’, inspired by the song ‘Unbreak My Heart’ by Toni Braxton.

Part 1 , Part 3

About: Fred realises he has everything wrong. His heart aching for the reader after pushing her aside for someone else, he searches for her to apologise for what he’s done and to admit his true feelings for her.

Theme: Heartache, sadness, moving on, relationships, rumours.

Warnings: mentions of raw emotions, *incredibly light* smut, depression, body image issues and swearing.

Don't leave me in all this pain Don't leave me out in the rain Come back and bring back my smile Come and take these tears away I need your arms to hold me now The nights are so unkind Bring back those nights when I held you beside me

The first thirteen months without Fred were the worst. You couldn’t face visiting Weasleys Wizard Wheezes no matter how many times George asked in his letters which you ignored. You couldn’t go into Diagon Alley without hearing news about The Weasleys - more importantly, the news about Fred and his darling; they were now engaged.

You kept to your bedroom, crying to sleep every night, looking through all the pictures you had taken of and with Fred over the years that you were with him. Letters you had written to him laid scrunched up all over your floor like an author going mad over a sticky, confusing, part of the story - but that was exactly what this was. 

Everywhere you went as you entered Diagon Alley, you were forced to listen to the news over and over again that the shop was a success. You wanted to congratulate George, but after ignoring him for so long you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a pen to reach out to him.

Too afraid to let anyone in after the damage Fred inflicted on you, you didn’t bother meeting anyone new.

Plenty of people offered and even your sister tried to match you up with a friend of hers from work, but you declined and allowed Fred’s damage to take over you.

You only left the house for work which was torture enough as you worked with Percy at the Ministry. You ate one meal a day which was an apple on your lunch break. You didn’t dream of moving out despite your parents encouragement and you simply just collapsed in on yourself whilst your family constantly complained about Fred, swearing that you chose the wrong twin.

Although you hated Fred - or at least convinced yourself that you did - you still thought about him every single day, and at bedtime you would envision yourself back on his sofa in his arms underneath that scratchy patchwork blanket you shared many memories under. 

Laying awake staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath. It had been over a year. You couldn’t go on like this. You needed to claim your life back, one step at a time. Sitting up in your bed, you grabbed the last of your parchment and leaned it against an old book. Dipping your feather quill into your ink pot that rested beside your bed next to the framed picture of you and Fred, you wrote to George.

You began apologising for not replying and for not visiting the shop, explaining why, and asked how everything was going - you missed your friend and it became suffocating to ignore him reaching out.

Un-break my heart Say you'll love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out the door And walked out of my life Un-cry these tears I cried so many nights Un-break my heart My heart

It had been another five months since you wrote your letter to George and you were still waiting for a reply. You told yourself that perhaps he got too busy with the shop or he just didn’t want to mend things after you ignored him for so long. Either way, you didn’t ponder on it, sprayed yourself with some perfume, and got ready to leave for your third date this week.

George wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. He truly was too busy with not just everything at the shop, but also helping Fred plan out this so-called wedding and engagement party that came out of nowhere. He planned to write back but time got the better of him, he knew you wouldn’t take it personally.

“Oh look at you!” your sister grinned, “Same guy?” she asked enthusiastically. 

“No,” you shook your head and grabbed your coat, putting it on, “I don’t see the same guy twice if the spark isn’t there.”

Your sister smiled to herself and told you to have a good time. You enjoyed yourself temporarily until you remembered Fred Weasley and what he did. He was the reason why you decided against seeing the same person twice. If there was no chemistry during intimacy you moved on. Speed dating was the perfect temporary aid you needed at the moment.  

And just like Fred and his fiancé, word got out about you and how desirable you were. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, you started looking after yourself and forced yourself into the limelight. Even if it didn’t result in finding your true love, you still wanted to have fun along the way.

Your parents went to The Leaky Cauldron, and just as they were leaving, they bumped into Molly and Arthur Weasley. Your parents flinched at first sight, but swallowed the anger they had towards their son Fred.

“Oh Mr and Mrs Y/LN! what a lovely surprise to see you!” Molly chirped up. George turned his head and stood up to greet your parents. Unlike Fred, they loved George.

“And you.” Your father replied, his voice monotone.

“We haven’t seen your daughter for ages. We missed her last summer, please ask her to come and see us. George misses her and it’s our Freddie's engagement party tonight!” Molly babbled on, pointing to George when she mentioned him and Fred.

Molly and Arthur loved you coming over to the burrow. They loved you even more seeing how happy you made their son. In their eyes you brought out the best in him. On the other hand, they weren’t keen on the girl Fred decided to marry, she was inconsiderate, selfish and didn’t know what hard work was - she was handed everything she ever wanted, the exact opposite to you.

Your fathers face flushed with frustration. Didn’t they know why you never came around anymore? Were they not aware that Fred was the reason she screamed and cried every night for over a year?

Your mother hesitated but decided against holding back. She liked the Weasley family, but she couldn’t allow Fred to get away with what he had done. 

“Maybe you should ask your darling boy, Fred. Or maybe George will tell you, he’s the decent one of the two.” 

Your mother said no more and stormed out of the packed pub, your father trailing behind nodding a goodbye to George. Molly and Arthur stood there speechless and looked over at George, demanding that he tells them what happened as soon as they arrive home when everyone has gone to bed.

Fred felt strange throughout the whole party. He didn’t feel happy like he thought he would - he hadn’t been feeling happy for the past five months. Something in his life just didn’t feel right and he couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong -waking up next to his girlfriend made him feel sick and he realised how stupid he was thinking that getting engaged would make everything better.

Molly, Arthur and George sat at the dining table when everyone else was in bed. “George you better tell me what happened, now!” Molly hissed in a low whisper.

George spilled absolutely everything, from beginning to end. As much as he loved his twin, he didn’t shy away from any details even if they showed Fred for exactly who he was, and the awful things he did. Molly and Arthur were outraged at their child's behaviour. Molly had to restrain herself at the table whilst she sobbed into her hands.

Far away, you panted heavily as you came down from your high with your date. Unmounting him, you laid beside him in his bed. He took off his condom and breathlessly offered taking a shower with him. You accepted his offer knowing that you could go home straight after, you wouldn’t need to stress about hurrying in the morning to get to work on time. 

Take back that sad word goodbye Bring back the joy to my life Don't leave me here with these tears Come and kiss this pain away I can't forget the day you left Time is so unkind And life is so cruel without you here beside me

Work at the ministry became more tolerable over the next six months. Percy smiled at you more often and you couldn’t understand why. You didn’t look into it and simply smiled back. You flourished even more within the same time - you had got into a relationship with the one night stand you shared a shower with. The curly haired bookshop assistant grew on you and you didn’t mind, he often made you laugh so hard you burst into tears.

Whilst you were finding yourself, running with the wind, Fred had fallen apart completely. He overheard George spilling his guts, and finally realised why everything felt so wrong, why he wasn’t happy. You were the missing piece. His guilt and mistakes were eating him alive. He broke off the engagement - to his parents delight - and vowed on finding you and making everything right. George felt relieved that he had his own room because Fred’s cries were enough to make anyone feel ill.

Fred slept with the Irish scarf he bought you from the world cup, and he kept the patchwork blanket on his bedroom, refusing to bring it back downstairs.

Memories flashed back to him, the two of you in the tent, “Oh Fred are you sure?” you asked him as he put the scarf around your neck.

He chuckled and kissed your head, “Anything for you, my love!”

Then memories from the sofa flooded in, hurting him even more. 

“I’m so in love with you,” you moaned, cupping his face while he made love to you. 

He shook his head and came to his senses, angry that he put such a lovely girl in the firing line.

“Percy, Y/N works with you doesn’t she? Can you tell her I need to see her.” He later begged.

Percy refused, “That would be an incredibly inappropriate thing to do in the work place!” 

Fred wrote you letters, but you never got them. The family refused to lend him their owl and Fred couldn’t understand muggle post. Getting desperate, he would stay in Diagon Alley trying to see where you were lurking after work, asking strangers if they had seen you, showing them the only picture he had of you.

“It’s going to be perfect here!” Your mum smiled looking around your large half unpacked apartment, “When will he be moving in?” She winked.

You finally saved up enough money to move out and you were planning on asking your boyfriend to move in if things continued to run smoothly. You had got your furniture, all you needed were the items left in the big green box from your bedroom. “I’ll collect them next week.” 

Feeling brave with your partner, arms linked, the two of you visited George’s shop. He had sent you a letter letting you know when Fred wasn’t working and you felt confident that you wouldn’t bump into him.

“I’m so proud of you!” You cheered for George, giving him a hug.

After paying for your bits and bobs you previously saw in the design stages, you walked out of the shop and bumped into someone. Looking up to apologise, you realised it was Fred. He stared at you - both of you mirroring each other looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

You shook yourself out of the immediate shock Fred was still stuck in. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, walking away, your boyfriend asking what his problem was.

Un-break my heart Say you'll love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out the door And walked out of my life Un-cry these tears I cried so many nights Un-break my heart

Another week went by and Fred was going stir crazy. Customers in his shop who knew you both were whispering about how happy you were now. Him and George argued when he discovered the letter between you two.

Fred rifled through the stacks of letters and found your parents address where you no longer lived. He got on his broom, not caring if muggles saw him, and landed on the roof. He crawled down to your window and gave it a tap with his wand with a soft “Alohomora”.

Expecting to find you asleep, he discovered only disappointment that your room laid bare and empty. The bedside table had nothing but a folded photo lying face down on it, the bin on the floor full of parchment balls.

He unfolded the photo and put a hand over his mouth, seeing you and him moving during your morning walks. He bent down and grabbed a ball from the bin, unravelling the parchment. He cried reading the letters you had written him but never sent. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the green box on your bed and he went through it, more tears spilling down his face.

“I’ll just grab my box!” He heard you yell, walking upstairs. 

Without giving him time to hide, you opened the door, revealing him standing in front of you. You held back a scream of shock and took a deep breath shaking your head, “Fred please - you can’t be here.” 

Fred shook his head and cried, “I’m so sorry, for everything,” he made his way closer to you, “I got everything wrong, her, everything.”

Not wanting your parents to see him, you closed your bedroom door and locked it, your heart pounding. Tears fell from your eyes, the walls you put up against him crashing down, your hate for him melting away and your love for him surging inside.

“Why are you here?” you questioned him through your cries.

Fred walked over to you slowly not wanting to scare you off. This was the closest you had been to him since you bumped into him at the shop. The young man you fell in love with wrapped his arms around you, tangling his hands in your hair. You stayed still with your hands by your side.

“I’m in love with you.” Fred choked out between sobs. He pulled away and gently put your hands in his, your tear filled eyes getting lost in his.

“Fred- I can’t!” you shook your head crying, feeling weak at the words he said and the ones you replied with. 

“Please,” Fred begged getting onto his knees, staring up at you, “please let me make things right.”

Don't leave me in all this pain Don't leave me out in the rain Bring back the nights when I held you beside me

“I think you look stunning,” Fred complimented you, soot spread out all over your nose.

You chuckled and sneaked a kiss on his lips, only to hear a loud thud on the desk in front of you.

“One weeks’ detention for the two of you,” Professor Snape snarled, “and fifty points will be deducted from your house.”

Un-break my heart Say you'll love me again Undo this hurt you caused When you walked out the door And walked out of my life Un-cry these tears I cried so many, many nights Oh, un-break my

“What do you mean you’re taking her instead of me!” you freaked out, throwing your earrings at the mirror. 

“It’s just a bloody Yule Ball. Y/N. It doesn’t mean anything.” Fred argued.

“Well it does to me!” you argued back, “I’m guessing I was just your back up plan if she said no.” 

Un-break my heart, oh baby Come back and say you love me Un-break my heart, sweet darlin' Without you I just can't go on

Fred held you in his arms, the two of you watching the muggle horror movie in amazement. You nuzzled your head into his neck, planting kisses on it softly. Fred let out a soft shaky moan, his hand making its way up your thigh. “We’ll need to be quiet,” he whispered, pulling your underwear off.

Can't go on (Say that you love me, say that you love me) (Tell me you love me, un-break my) (Say that you love me, say that you love me) (Tell me you love me, un-break my)

You stared at Fred, still trying to process what he said. You pursed your lips and stayed quiet getting lost in your thoughts. Fred noticed you were in shock and lost for words. He pulled out the scarf from his coat pocket and walked over to you, wrapping it around you.

You stared up at him, getting lost in those gorgeous eyes that you missed so much. You looked down at his lips and kissed him impulsively.

He kissed back.

[timerogued]

JACK  CASEY  &.  ARCHAEOLOGY.  mental  health  edition. TW  for  mental  health  talk,  depression,  anxiety  etc. 

for jack, archaeology is a hobby, rather than a job, and is something he picked up after gaining control over his mutation. unfortunately, mental health does play an important part in how much jack partakes with the subject, both in an academic sense and physically, it’s something which can affect him more than usual yet is something he won’t necessarily talk about because he feels like the moment he does he might not enjoy it as much.

to reiterate his mental health document for purpose of this post, jack suffers with depression, anxiety, and psychosis. while his psychosis doesn’t play a huge role when out in the field it can spring up if he’s not taken care of himself - something i’ll explain later. he’s also very good at masking his anxiety when busy, this comes about after a work day. i want to stress that jack enjoys archaeological excavation and post analysis work. it’s a change of pace from working on crime scenes or in the morgue ( even if he’s brought in for forensic archaeology work ) and the mystery of certain sites can really drive his passion. 

it’s a physically taxing subject. even if you’re just doing the pre excavation or post excavation work, there’s a lot which goes into it ( something i’m not going to delve into ). depression can, and will, make this worse. getting out of bed in the morning becomes more of a struggle. this causes some inner conflict with jack because, again, he enjoys it. and he wants to get out there, to be in his prime, but as the days pass it becomes difficult to ignore the nagging voices in the back of his head or feel the exhaustion zap away previous excitement or happiness ; it’ll make him question whether it is something he truly enjoys because if it was, why is it making me feel this way. he’s able to push through it some days, more often than not, ( mostly because he can’t stand the guilt which comes with taking days off ) and will relish being part of it. 

this doesn’t mean it doesn’t come back full swing during the day. it’ll start off with small things going wrong - all the string being tied together, not being able to get sections straight, your co-worker keeps finding cool things while you’re stuck with nothing ; that small voice will come back. jack’s lucky to learn how to keep anxiety under control when out, especially considering he’s one of the main excavators there and it can be down to him to teach / help others with less experience, so he’ll bottle it up. and so, the cycle starts all over again. 

by the end of it all, having all that energy drained, rinsed, recycled until there’s nothing but a shell of who he was beforehand, it gets to him. not to mention the stress that goes into travelling, sometimes being away from molly for months ( obviously with breaks on weekends or when she visits, depending how far away it is ),  and that’s only the physical excavation. jack’s certain if it wasn’t for his depression it would be completely different - he’s sure he would leave his job and carry this on full time. and yeah, it makes him undeniably happy when he gets to talk about it after. he’ll have fond memories and that fire to continue does ignite after a few months. for that first month, he’ll be ecstatic. it proves that if he were to let his mental health get worse it’ll easily take away the things he loves. it’s usually during these times he’ll take antidepressants because he wants that passion back. but sometimes his mental health will make it damn near impossible.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Six

                      A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Six

Jamie walked into an empty house feeling immense relief Isobel was gone. He didn’t know where. He never knew where. Was that because he didn’t ask or because she didn’t tell him? He didn’t know or care. It was time to have a talk with Isobel and decide what to do with their future. Each time he brought it up she would snap at him, they had to pay off her father and then sell the business and split the money. The thought of giving the business up made him feel sick inside, he couldn’t do it. He built this business from the dirt and three years later he had an honest shot at the Derby because he made the right match of DNA. She would force him to sell without an ounce of guilt because she had ice in her veins.

Jamie suggested Isobel go back to Scotland because she hated Kentucky. Her father had closed the discussion of marriage, much to Jamie’s relief, so it was nothing more than a business arrangement with her father. She wasn’t needed here, she did nothing for the business except keep Jamie from it. She refused to go for reasons unknown, so he was stuck with a pouty, controlling bitch, who seemed determined to make him miserable. Jamie grabbed two beers because the first would go down fast and walked upstairs for a shower. The first bottle hit the trash can before he stepped under the water.

He built a sundeck off the master bedroom because Isobel wanted a tan, and in three years he had never seen her on it. He loved it because he could see the entire compound and the sight from up here was peaceful. His eyes swept the landscape until he saw the spot where Claire had cried earlier. When she thought her actions with that asshole Chad would hurt him somehow. She was ready to leave because of what she did. Christ, that kind of heart and integrity were so rare in the people he had met in Kentucky. He wanted to build a team of people with a moral code like his, but the influence of haters and greed were holding him down like he was chained. Isobel was part of the greed, Chad was one of the haters, and there was someone out there that was evil enough to kill his prized horses in their prime. All the negativity he had lived with for the last three years had sapped his strength, his joy, and almost killed his dream. Then, in walks a pure heart to shed a brilliant light of hope and miracles to his battered soul.

Jamie tried to quiet his mind because he didn’t like where this thought process was going. Once Claire was in his head it would torture him and make him miss her every minute she was gone. He leaned back on the lounge and dozed with his two-beer buzz until he felt his phone vibrate. His eyes bugged out when he heard Claire’s voice.

“Sassenach, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have a list of things we need to talk about, do you have a few minutes Jamie? Perfect. Number one, I am doing a new Facebook page and I would like to feature the colt, now that he has filled my dance card. What do you say about that?”

“Yes.”

Number two, if we don’t make any progress tomorrow with a rider on the colt I will ride him, he won’t hurt me.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry Jamie dear but I heard yes, otherwise he might be held back. Number three, what kind of riding is required before the first race and which race will that be?”

“Running and galloping as a group to get them used to runnin next to other horses and build up the shins. Hours and hours of galloping, every day. Yer double-dipping lass.”

“I’m sorry, what is that exactly?”

“Two questions in one. So play fair. I get to answer each question before ye throw another one out. Deal?”

“Yes, yes, deal. Do you know anyone who can teach me to ride a race?”

“Aye. Start with Nick. He knows everything about training, racing, jockeys, everything. The guy was raised on the track. That’s why he’s so taken with you. He has ne’er seen what you do before, so he wants to watch you every second.”

“If only he were twenty years younger and unmarried. Sorry, I digress.”

The second part of her sentence was laced with giggles and Jamie heard something different in her voice. The thought made his heart pound.

“Doctor Beauchamp, are ye drunk?”

“Certainly not, Oh, thank you Molly. Now, where was I. Did I ask my next question yet?”

“I canna be sure, which question was that?”

He heard a slurping straw and decided she just finished the drink Molly brought her. He heard giggling in the background, female giggling.

“I am waiting Mister Fraser.”

“For what?”

“Your answer of course.”

“Sorry, my answer is no.”

“Well, that is ridiculous, so I heard yes.”

“Why that comment about Nick being twenty years younger and unmarried Sassenach?”

Jamie waited through a long-drunk pause, wanting her to open up to him and share her secrets, wanting her to let him in.

“I need love in my life. I am so done with holding myself to a higher purpose, that would be my practice. Do you know how long it’s been since someone touched me? No, of course you don’t.” She giggled. “Men like you could never ban sex from their life, and if you tried, they would ratify the constitution or something.”

“Men like me Sassenach? Ye mean angry men?”

“No”

“Mean men.”

“No.”

“Controlling, manipulating, selfish men.”

“No. It means men who take a girl's breath away when you look at them. Cure cancer by smiling at someone, walk with the authority of the privileged few.”

Her speech was dreamy sounding and Jamie wondered if she would remember any of this tomorrow.

“I wanted it to be him but it’s not.”

“Are ye talkin about Chad or Nick, Sassenach?”

“What? I need to finish my new Facebook page, so I have to go and find Dusty. No word yet.”

“He’s fine Claire. He loves school and really misses you. Before ye ask, I don’t know why he friended me, but I think it’s because he missed you so much. Let him reach out to you when he’s ready. I will let you know if I hear anything important. Okay? Claire?”

Jamie heard the soft rhythmic breathing of a passed-out Sassenach and smiled.

“Goodnight sweetheart, I’ll think of ye tonight.”

Jamie clicked off the call and looked at the rising moon. For just a minute he replaced Isobel with Claire and he instantly wiped it from his mind and jumped off the lounge chair. I need to pay bills, he decided, so what if it’s three weeks early. Before he reached the door into the bedroom, he saw a truck on their access road and wondered who could be coming to the barn at this time of night. He hit the light and was bathed in darkness as he watched someone walk away from the truck into an outbuilding. The truck pulled away and out came Isobel’s Cadillac turning toward home.

Jamie’s heart was pounding. What would she have to be so clandestine about? He certainly didn’t want to tip his hand and jumped into a sleeping position in their bed as he heard the front door open. Several minutes later he could hear her moving around the bedroom and then into the shower. She crept into bed with extra precaution not to jostle him and then she was still.

Jamie was angry and forced himself to lie still while his brain crunched the evidence of Isobel’s secret life. He didn’t care about her; he didn’t even like her. But while he was torturing himself with a wall between he and Claire, Isobel was helping herself to whatever she wanted. Time for you to go Isobel, he thought, I am missin out on a beautiful life and it’s time to change that. If I win the Derby, you and yer father are paid off and I keep my business. He prayed for the opportunity, he prayed for luck as he drifted off to sleep. His last thought…get ready colt, time to get serious about winnin that race.

Claire spent the night between nightmares and vomiting and wanted to kill Molly as soon as she surfaced. Her yoga poses helped a little, but she would need much more to mount the colt if it came to that today. She had a vague recollection of Jamie calling her sweetheart. She pounded several mugs of coffee and threw back four aspirin before Molly came bursting out of her room with a huge smile and all the energy that Claire lacked. Claire glared at her before climbing down the steps to the truck.

“Claire! Catch.”

She reached for the falling keys and caught them before settling in the passenger seat. She had her nose in a medical book when she heard her door open. Her head jerked up and she stared at Molly.

“What?”

“Move over, let’s go.”

“No.”

“No problem. I’ll get comfy in my car. I’ll be on Facebook with Dusty half the day anyway.”

With that, she unlocked her car and threw her stuff inside before getting in to set up her laptop.

“Dustin?”

Claire was mad at Molly, and her new friend for getting her drunk last night. It was reckless to give her two drinks and she would pay the price today. She was also very hurt by Dustin’s avoidance. She went on autopilot and started the truck leaving Molly to jump in as she backed out. Claire’s mind was grinding the facts as she easily negotiated the highway entrance, lane changes to the exit, and dropping onto the dirt road leading to the compound. She parked in the usual spot and walked toward the barn, still grinding the truth about her old assistant, Dustin.

The colt recognized her footfall now and started kicking the corral bars, impatient to see her. She didn’t notice that his happy mood evaporated as soon as he saw her, and he stood in the corner of his stall.

Claire started to brush and curry the colt but ran out of energy in the first five minutes. She threw her arms over his back and rested her head on his warm fur. She felt herself falling but could not wake up to save herself until she felt Jamie’s chest against her side and realized he was carrying her.

“There ye go, lass. He sat her atop of the wall separating two stalls and pushed her back gently until her back found the support of the back wall. She exhaled and felt a bit better.

“Now laddie, we must talk about yer day, yes? There is much to do, tack and lunging and gettin ready to run in the field. I know yer gonna love it and yer old mam Angus has agreed to ride ye. Don’t want to hurt ole Angus so ye do as he says. Right! Yer lookin dapper, like a true gentleman. Jamie left to grab his tack giving the colt time to rest his head in Claire’s lap. She felt him cry and sat up to touch his cheeks. She saw an image of a handler flying through the air and felt the colt cry.

“My sweet boy.”

She pushed his hair aside and looked into his eyes.

“I just realized that you’re an orphan like me and that makes you afraid people will leave you alone again, doesn’t it?”

She kept seeing the handler in the air and realized he knew what he did was wrong, and it made him sad.

“It’s okay, love.” She sent images of her on his back while he ran. “I am afraid of falling off of you so promise not to buck.”

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and yawned seeing the handler in the air and her on his back. She giggled into his neck.

Jamie stood stock still draped with the colt’s tack. He listened to what Claire told him about being an orphan and he wanted to wrap her in his arms and just hold her. Yer extraordinary Sassenach, he thought before walking into the stall to tack the big colt.

“I see ye makin eyes at my girlfriend. Ye find one of yer own kind because she belongs to me.”

Claire looked for the evil woman to walk up on them and considered dashing to her truck to avoid confrontation.

“I need yer promise lad, if she rides ye be gentle wi’er. Let’s go.”

The other nine yearlings were warming up, going through the gates and giving their handler all that was asked for.

When the sunlight hit Midnight Runner, his dark coat turned purple and Claire would swear he had a swagger this morning. She kept watching for Isobel.

Angus walked quickly out of the barn, head down, very preoccupied with barn business. Claire stood next to the colt and didn’t like what she was feeling.

Hey, Runner, what the hell?

She tried to get his attention to warn him of bad behavior, but it was too late, he would eliminate Angus by whatever means necessary. The colt snorted and pawed the dirt like a bull and then jumped forward getting between Angus and Claire. It looked like he wanted to tear Angus apart.

“Angus, stop. Keep lookin at the ground and back out of the arena.” Jamie’s voice was clear and strong.

Angus suddenly walked backward, still looking down until he was safely away. Claire looked miserably at Jamie, knowing it was time to put her money where her mouth is.

When Nick gave her a leg up she sat frozen in the saddle, waiting for the explosion she had seen with the other handlers. She looked at the colt’s ears and they were facing forward like nothing weird was happening. Her foot reached to find the stirrup and she heard the colt ask if she wanted him to run now.

“No!”

Nick and Jamie looked at her like she suddenly developed Turret’s syndrome and she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Nick guided her feet to the stirrups which were a foot above where she was searching.

The colt seemed to get serious about his training after that, even when Jamie was around. When Claire was on his back it was all business, and for the rest of the week it was hours of galloping, Claire’s legs were so sore she could hardly walk for the first three days and Jamie wanted so badly to help her but that would be inappropriate, so he bought her an hour massage at a place that specialized in training injuries.

Claire worked with the other handlers for positioning herself over his back during sprints, how to stand in the stirrups to reduce the strain on her back and how to hold him back to conserve strength.

Nick worked individually with all the horses. He adjusted Claire’s position and returned her to the track. That was all the attention she and Runner got, while the others spent more time with him and were watched more closely when they ran.

Claire wondered if Nick was discounting Runner and the thought made her angry. I promised he could race the others dammit and I will make sure I keep that promise, she thought.

At the end of the week, Claire felt like she had been through a meat grinder. She limped toward Jamie’s office for their meeting.

Jamie watched her walk into the office and his heart rate jumped, his face flushed, and his sentence stopped abruptly like it always did. He had watched her torturous week wishing he could help her and feeling so grateful for what she was doing. She was so comfortable on the colt, she worried more about her ability to stay on him than anything he might do.

Nick looked around the room and gave the bad news. Three retired jockeys, good friends of his, had come by to watch the colt so they might relieve Claire, but they had all turned him down. These men were the most experienced riders in horse racing. They all turned him down for life and limb. Runner had put on weight over the summer and grown an inch. He was big and powerful and very green. None of the three wanted to risk their retirement with a broken neck.

“We train on Monday and then Tuesday we race the ten horses in a sprint. I guess this is where the rubber meets the road. If no one will race him this has all been for nothing. I will keep looking and get someone to say yes over the weekend.

Claire spent the weekend on the porch and thought about the magnificent colt and what he needed. She wondered from time to time if her motivation was just the colt, or was it the man who walked taller than any other. She would feel the sadness flood her body because she was incapable of seeing him as anything else than the best man she had ever known and he would marry that witch, eventually.

On Sunday afternoon, she sighed in her lounge chair and listened to Molly and her new friend giggle like eighteen-year-olds do, wishing she could go back to her uncomplicated life. She picked up her vibrating phone and saw Jamie’s name while her heart rate shot into the stroke zone.

“Beauchamp.”

Sigh, “lass ye have to at least pretend ye want to answer my call.”

“Sorry, habit.”

“Ye sound like yer at a sorority party.”

“Molly and her friend are leaving. All they seem to do is giggle.”

“I have thought of nothin else this weekend than you ridin the colt and what to do now. I need to talk to ye, face to face, it’s time to make some decisions. Will ye meet me somewhere? Any place close to where ye are since ye’ll be drivin yerself.”

“It’s a long drive but you could come here.”

“It’s a drive ye make every day, lass. I think I can manage.”

Claire was already moving through the house trying to tidy up. Molly was such a neat-freak there was little to do with this old cabin-home. She gave him directions and asked him to wait thirty minutes before he left.

A dash into the shower, casual clothes, and twenty minutes blowing her hair straight. She used the flat iron like Molly taught her and emerged looking like the other Claire, the one who wanted to be seen. She knew it was wrong trying to look nice for someone else’s man. It was a worthless argument, so she gave up and applied a light coat of mascara.

She wondered how the time had passed so quickly working for Jamie, and why she was forced to make a decision that would affect so many lives? It didn’t seem fair, nothing seemed fair at the moment.

Jamie parked where she directed him and stood outside the truck looking for a house when he heard her giggle from somewhere above him. He reached the top step and looked around at the gorgeous view. Ten seconds on the landscape below, the rest of the time on Claire. Her hair was down, falling softly around her shoulders making her look almost exotic as it framed her whisky colored eyes.

Claire grabbed a bottle from inside. It would be her courage when she told Jamie she was done riding the colt. The decision was long in coming she would say, but risking her life to race him was never part of the plan. She would have to watch his heartbreak and wondered how long it would take her to get over that. Jamie wanted the colt to race because it would make his life with Isobel that much better if he won any of the big three races in the spring. It was understandable but her risking her life was not. The weekend of soul searching had exposed many truths, including how his presence motivated her decision to work with Runner and eventually ride him. It was all for Jamie but enough was enough.

Jamie struggled to look calm while the storm raged within him. The colt had the potential to win the Derby and the 1.86 million-dollar prize would free him of Isobel and her father forever. He would be free to pursue Claire with the interest that had turned into a cyclone of desire that spun his head and stole all thoughts when she was near him. It was all for Claire in the end, but she had to agree to ride.

Claire watched him from the open Arcadia door and her heart squeezed seeing his beautiful face locked in a worried expression. How can you ask me to risk my life? Do you care so little for me? Yes, that would be the right thing to ask after she told him. She handed him a glass of whisky and sat opposite of him wondering if this was the last time.

“I am so conflicted lass. If you were anyone else in the world, I would do what was needed to get ye back on the colt for the race on Tuesday. I might argue the importance with ye, calm yer fears, tell ye he needs ye, or a thousand other things to make you do it.”

Jamie exhaled the breath he was holding and lifted his head to look at her causing her insides to melt.

“The truth is…”

Jamie looked out at the expanse of bluegrass stretching out far and wide. In that moment his truth came out. Softly like a whisper on the breeze.

“I’m in love with ye Claire and that love rules my world now. The importance of the colt is nothin in comparison except he can free me from the nightmare life I’m in.”

He reached for her shaking hand and looked at her startled eyes.

“I’m sorry lass, I’ve added to yer burden and scared ye. If this is where our road ends, I just wanted to tell ye, I love ye, and if ye ever need me for anything, I will come. I fear this love is now a part of every organ, blood vessel, brain and red hair on my head. I walk with ye now, even when ye forget who I am, I’ll still be right next to ye.”

He had not looked away from her face allowing her to see the anguish of his truth.

“Stand up.”

Jamie exhaled the defeat he felt but he stood up and in the next second she embraced him, wrapping her arms around his middle like he was a rope to a drowning girl. She felt his arms come around her and got dizzy with the contact against him.

“I am still in shock Jamie and all I can think to say is me too. I love you.”

“One more time lass,” he whispered.

Claire looked at her dream man coming to life and gripped him to stay on her feet.

“I’m in love with James Fraser and here he is, feeling the same. I love you.”

When his mouth came down to her lips, he stopped, “can I kiss ye Sassenach?” Her mouth on his was the answer and Jamie took a deep breath to feed his ramming heart.

Jamie picked her up and carried her inside toward the couch. She pointed to her room and they laid next to each other as the kisses threatened their sanity with the need that was building inside.

Jamie was about to come apart at the seams. She said she loves me, he thought, and here she is in my arms, kissin with the passion I feel for her! His head was spinning when she pushed her tongue into his mouth and softly danced with his. He broke the kiss and sat up panting. He couldn’t look at her and not kiss her again, so he waited for control.

Claire ran her hand up his back, startled at the muscles bulging under his shirt.

“I am quite sure you said whenever I need you. Well, I need you, Jamie.”

She pulled the shirt out of his pants and over his head, gasping at the sight of him as he twisted and pushed her down with a mind-blowing kiss. He loved the feel of her hands on his skin and he was locked in the sensation until he felt her shirt come off. He looked at her and wanted to burn the image into his memory.

His kisses got hotter and needier as he carried her away to a place only the two of them existed. She wanted to go, her body begged to go as he covered her neck and chest with kisses. When he pushed her bra aside with his chin, she felt his mouth cover her nipple flicking with his tongue while he rolled her slightly to reach her bra clasp. When he pulled it off, he stared at her breasts, long arms, and tiny waist. He seemed frozen and staring.

“I want to see all of ye Sassenach.”

He kissed her stomach and belly button while he pulled off her jeans and thought his heart would crash right through his chest. He was mere inches from her skin and let himself see every inch of her.

“I had no idea,” he whispered. He ran a soft hand down her arms, breasts, stomach, hips, and legs while he watched the skin flush. He softly pulled his hand up her breast to the nipple, teasing her and making her pant.

“Under all that mud, and scrubs, and hairpins, yer a beautiful girl, I’ve never seen yer equal lass.”

“Take them off before I bite right through them,” was panted out as her eyes raked over his exposed skin.”

Jamie pushed out of his jeans and laid next to her. He wanted to tease her and make it memorable, but he was way passed that kind of control.

“You look like Atlas the Titan.”

“Who?”

“He carries the world on his shoulders, he’s a Titan, his name is Atlas, he’s a god, …Greek mythology. Oh Christ Jamie… that is…”

That did it. His resolve to go slow shattered he moved between her legs and pushed up against her, feeling her legs open and lift to his sides. He pushed further into her and to his horror found resistance knowing it would cause pain if he forced himself into her. It was what he needed to get his control back and he kissed from her mouth to her neck, slowly circling her nipple before sucking it into his mouth feeling her arch her back forcing her breast farther into the wet warmth.

His kisses continued to her belly as his hand ran down her body slowly feeling the places he had only dreamed of, pulling his warm hand up the inside of her thigh and hearing her moan. When his tongue pushed into her body, she gasped almost missing him growl with his own need. The sound he made tipped the scale as she fell into her orgasm seeing bright sparkling lights behind her eyelids and moaning with the pleasure and intensity.

He whispered in her ear, “give me yer body love, I willna hurt ye.”

She felt him between her legs and when he eased into her, she grabbed his butt and pulled him into her heat until he could go no further. Her eyes went wide and her body stiffened making him stop until she relaxed and adjusted to his size. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest as he kissed her deeply. It was building her heat again and her hips pressed against him looking for friction. When he eased out of her, she pulled him back with a groan until he was gliding in and out of her, pressing into her clit before another stroke.

Jamie felt her legs press open and her back arch against him. She gripped his shoulders and threw her head back panting. He was over the edge with this beautiful girl but held himself in check while he moved into her faster, watching her face as her rapture pulled her into a second orgasm. He pushed into the quivering muscle and lost himself to an orgasm that shook him like a rag doll.

They held each other as they drifted back to her bed, both panting for their lives, drunk on love, feeling their spirits freed from their secret. Jamie dropped to his side pulling her with him, wanting to stay inside of her as long as possible.

“I am a betting man and pride myself on knowin the field, but I never saw this comin lass. When you said ye loved me all the sadness and uncertainty vanished. I thought my truth would condemn me to a lonely life without ye, but here ye are. Never has a woman’s secret made me so happy.” They laid in each other’s arms and talked and kissed for over an hour. After spending every day together for the past month there was still so much to say and ask.

“Ye have more whisky lass?”

Jamie got up and walked out to the porch to fetch the bottle and glasses. Claire watched him move, staring at his thigh and butt muscles flex and his magnificent back.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. She was leaning over the bed trying to see him and jerked back when he filled her door frame again. He stood next to her and poured her a glass, so relaxed, so in command of the space he inhabited.

Jamie threw his whisky back and slid into bed next to her pulling her down to feel her skin next to him. When he kissed her, he took the glass out of her hand and placed it on the table next to the bed so she could use that arm for better things.

“Can we keep the rest of the day for us Sassenach? Please. There will be time tomorrow to discuss what to do with Runner.”

“Who?”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Fourth of July, Part II”

Summary: Despite Elliot’s reservations about meeting Y/N’s family, the long weekend goes well . . . except for an incident that causes Y/N to unknowingly meet Mr. Robot for the first time.

Story Summary,  “The Server Room, Part I”,  “The Server Room, Part II”  “The Long Weekend, Part I”,  “The Long Weekend, Part II”,  “The Aftermath”,  “Undecided”,  **“Decided”,  “Spooked”,  **“Fourth of July, Part I”

Word Count: 9800

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley

If you want added or I’ve missed your request, let me know : )

A/N: I am actively pretending the Elliot of MR Season 4 is an illusion : ) Let me live in my fantasy of soft Elliot, thanks! 

Warning: Sexual content, non-descriptive mentions of blood, somewhat descriptive scene of an anxiety/panic attack

* Wednesday Evening *

“Open the bag behind my seat.”

Elliot shifted in his seat and reached into the back. He pulled the black shopping bag up to his lap and rustled around.

I glanced over at him, smirking.

“How do you like them?”

Elliot sighed, and despite his anxiousness about meeting my family, I knew he was happy—and happy was something that was starting to look damn good on him.

Elliot put his new swim trunks back in the bag and returned it to its spot behind my seat. He reached over and gave my thigh a quick squeeze before he leaned back, resting his head against his seat.

I had never imagined that such a simple gesture of affection could set my heart racing, but that was how it went with Elliot. There were never going to be any grandiose displays of romance; with him, it would always be about the little things—remembering my favorite food or movie, knowing how I took my tea in the morning, going on a holiday despite a sometimes crippling social anxiety.

And as if on cue, Elliot’s voice sounded, just a hair louder than the radio.

“Can you tell me what to expect again?”

Even though this was the third time I was about to explain what to expect, I still smiled. I knew this was an important part of Elliot’s attempt to alleviate his apprehension.

“ETA is currently clocked at 7:28 pm. Kathleen and Josh, my oldest sister and her husband, along with their three children—do you want their names again?”

“Jack, Jared, and Molly—10, 8, and 3.”

“I’m pretty sure those are the right ages. I told you—I’m a shit aunt,” I said through a laugh.

“Erin and Ryan will get there last.”

“Yes. Erin’s going to be late for her own wedding—mark my words. I wish my parents would worry about her more than me.”

“But they don’t worry because she’s a lawyer which is a job they understand. Unlike tech,” Elliot finished.

“See? You’ve got it all figured out. Just remember not to say any of those insights of yours out loud.”

“I’ll try.”

“And Charlie—Char’s coming tomorrow. He’s the owner of the sweatpants I put you in over Memorial Day.”

“He’s your favorite.”

I glanced at Elliot, my face twisted into an expression of surprised amusement.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. It’s in the way you talk about him—how protective you are. I feel that way about Darlene.”

“But she’s your only sibling, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s totally okay that she’s your favorite,” I said with a slight chuckle. “Anyway, Charlie and I are closer in age, so that’s one reason why I think we’ve always gotten along the best. The other is that Erin and Kathleen are a lot like my mom. My brother and I are much more like my dad.”

“Mom. Valerie, goes by Val, but I’ll stick to calling her Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“And Dad?”

“Charles Y/L/N. Owner of CNC Precision Machining, host company of the company I work for, and ranked number 348 on the Forbes 400 list.”

“Please don’t open with that,” I said, cringing. “I guarantee he doesn’t even know he’s on that damn list.”

“How can he not?”

“He’s got people to worry about and organize those things, not to mention he plans to dump half of what the company made this year into three new factories right here in the US, so that will cut his personal ‘net worth’ almost in half. My father has never forgotten that Grand-daddy could barely afford to feed his own family. His priority is and always will be job creation. I promise you, Elliot. He’s a good person.”

“I don’t know how you can be so flippant about the fact that you really don’t ever need to work. You could do anything you wanted with your life—anything.”

“Colin? Is that you? Did you takeover Elliot’s body?”

I could feel Elliot roll his eyes, and I smirked.

“It’s—”

“It’s my father’s money. Sure, I could live off of our family’s wealth, but then what would my purpose be? How could I ever, ever hope to keep all these guys quiet in here?” I asked, tapping the side of my head. You, of all people, should understand that.”

“I do. And don’t think I’ve forgotten we’ve talked about this before,” Elliot said as his way of apologizing. “I’m just nervous.”

“When are you not nervous?”

“An excellent question for which there is no answer,” Elliot said, and I could hear the smile as he formed his words.

We pulled into the drive of my parents’ waterfront house, and I snuck a glance at Elliot. He was looking out the window, craning to take in the property. I loved this house and always felt at peace along the bay. It was disappointing I hadn’t been out here, really out here, for such a long time.

I pulled in slightly behind my sister’s vehicle onto the cobblestoned driveway in the back of the house that made a loop, and when I shut the car off, I lamely said, “Well, we’re here!”

Elliot whipped his head over, almost as if he’d forgotten I was in the car. He looked pale, and his eyes were wide and skittish. He swallowed twice, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“Should I have dressed up?” Elliot said, his voice fading in and out.

I laughed softly.

“Did I dress up?”

“You always look good. Nice,” Elliot mumbled as he glanced at the house again.

“Especially when I’m naked. In bed. With you,” I said with a teasing grin.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Elliot shot out. “You can’t talk like that here.”

He gestured so vigorously toward the house that his hand smacked off the window, causing me to giggle.

“I’m just trying to get you to relax.”

“Thinking about us, about you, like that is not fucking helping.”

“Sorry. It’s getting hot in here without the air conditioning, though. Are you ready?”

Elliot just looked at me.

“You are ready. Remember, they wanted to meet you. I’m not springing some strange hobo I picked up off the side of the road on them.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay. Let’s go,” Elliot said opening the car door.

I smiled at his resolve, but my grin fell as my nephews came barreling around the wrap-around porch to see whether it was me or Erin who had arrived.

“Aunt Y/N!” Jared yelled as he hit his older brother, Jack, with the pool noodle he was swinging. “Will you swim with us? Please!”

“Am I going to get hit with that noodle?”

“Probably not,” Jared said, a grin plastered over his face, water droplets from his sopping hair still trailing down his tanned face.

“Hello,” Jack said, turning to look at Elliot, straightening up to his fullest height and extending his hand.

Elliot looked at him for a moment before he reached out and shook Jack’s extended, damp hand.

“Hello.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jack finished before turning to me. “Can I help you take anything into the house?”

I smiled. Jack was every bit his mother’s son: well-mannered, mature, and wise beyond his years, but his eyes still held a child’s innocence, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for not spending more time with him and his siblings.

“What a kind gesture, Jack, but do you really want to watch Mimi go apoplectic on the first day of the holiday when you go trampling, soaking wet through the front door?”

“What’s apopple-tic?” Jared asked, wrapping his pool noodle around his waist and swinging side to side.

I looked at Jack and raised my eyebrow.

“Crazy mad,” he said in answer to his brother. “Like how mom got when you put her iPad in the dishwasher.”

Jared shot his brother a murderous look and pulled back to hit him with the noodle.

“Go swim, boys. I promise we’ll come out as soon we’re settled.”

“Dad said we could play with our fireworks tonight!” Jared said before he turned and ran back up the porch stairs and around to the pool.

Jack grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and took off after his brother.

“Two down,” I said as I pulled my bag out of the car.

“They’re kids. Do they even count?”

“I think they do,” I said with a slight shrug of my shoulders.

Elliot gave me one of those half-smiles as he lifted my bag out of my hand and reached for his. I let him carry our bags, and I walked back around to the back seat to grab my purse, my work tote, and the shopping bag that contained Elliot’s swim trunks. I didn’t want to do any work over the weekend, but if there was an emergency, hopefully this time it could be solved remotely. Elliot had also brought his backpack, which made me feel a little better.

Elliot followed me up the porch stairs and through the front door. I led him up the center staircase and to the left, all the way to the end of the hall. I opened up the door to my room and set my work bag and shopping bag on one of the striped chairs near the wall. I tossed my purse onto the bed and directed Elliot to set our big bags in the walk-in closet.

When Elliot emerged, he looked around the room and walked over to the French doors that led out onto a small balcony that overlooked the bay. It looked like he was on a military mission to memorize his surroundings in the event of an emergency, so I left him alone as he acclimated.

My room was light and breezy, done in hues of blues with accents of white and coral. Elliot looked comically out of place, clad head to toe in black, standing between the sheer white and blue curtains.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” I finally said when Elliot sought out my eyes, his looking a startlingly, lovely shade of blue in the light of my room.

I couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, his face expressionless as he looked at me. I moved forward, waiting to see if he’d turn into my body or step away.

He stood still for a moment, before he turned to me, tentatively wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I sank into him, breathing him in.

“Thank you for doing this,” I whispered against his neck.

“Don’t thank me yet. I still have a few days to make you regret bringing me.”

“Stop,” I said pulling back to look at him. “Nothing is going to make me regret bringing you here.”

“Why do you have so much faith in me?”

Because I’m in love with you, I thought without hesitation, which was followed by a sheer bolt of panic that I immediately swallowed down.

Fuck.

“I just do,” I said, smiling and angling my face up for a kiss.

Elliot bent his head, kissing me sweetly in the still-bright light of the fading day, and I felt yet another jolt of shock at how incredibly right this felt, how easy.

After unpacking a few things and plugging my phone in to charge, we went downstairs and headed out to the pool. I took Elliot’s hand in mine as we walked across the porch and down the sidewalk and stairs to the stone encased pool that was being energetically occupied by my nephews, my niece, my dad, and my sister.

Elliot tightened his grip, and I gave him a reassuring squeeze back.

“Kathleen! Your sister’s here!” my mom yelled, waving at me and then at the pool.

“Hi, mom,” I said, releasing Elliot’s hand so I could give her a hug.

“This is Elliot,” I said as soon as I let go.

“Elliot,” my mom said, extending her hand. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Don’t be dramatic, mom.”

“Nonsense. We’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to put such a handsome face to Y/N’s words.”

“Uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Oh, please. Call me Val.”

Elliot gave her a sheepish smile and ran his hand through his hair, his eyes taking in the swimming pool, the bar, and the pool house.

“Hey! You said you’d swim with us!” Jared shouted as he leapt up from the water and ran over to me.

“I said no such thing because you did not promise I wouldn’t get hit with a pool noodle.”

Jared scowled a bit at me, and I grabbed him up, bridal style and tossed him back in the pool. He came up grinning, and I had to jump back as he aimed a splash at me.

“You asked for it,” my sister said as she swam to the edge, gracefully pulling herself up to sit. “Toss me my towel.”

I rolled my eyes and retrieved the towel she had pointed at. Kathleen, the prettiest and the bossiest.

“Hey, Y/N—how was the drive in?” came the pleasant voice of my brother-in-law, Josh.

“Not bad. Sat in the tunnel forever, but no surprise there,” I said, returning to Elliot who was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking like he had hoped everyone had forgotten he existed.

“Josh this is Elliot. Elliot, Josh, Kathleen’s husband.”

They shook hands, and I watched Elliot carefully, unsure if he was sort of comfortable with all the handshaking or if he was just internalizing the discomfort really well. I figured it was probably the latter.

Josh asked Elliot a few questions, and Elliot gave very direct answers.

“Save some of the interrogation for after dinner,” I said, returning to Elliot’s side.

“Small talk is—”

“Horrific and you know that,” I cut Josh off with an eyeroll. “You remember what it was like coming here for the first time to meet everyone.”

Josh tilted his head back and sighed, his eyes reflecting the light of the sun as it had begun lowering over the bay.

“The first time I met the family was at Christmas. It was a house full of, shit, 50 relatives? 60? I seriously considered just leaving and never coming back.”

“Leave me? Unlikely?” Kath said as she hugged Josh from behind, soaking his polo shirt as he reached up to grasp her hand and grin.

“The boss would never have allowed you to get away,” I said, rolling my eyes and smiling.

“Do you hear the way she talks to me, Elliot? It’s not too late for you to escape.”

I rolled my eyes again, only to be scolded by my mother.

“Honestly, Y/N. If I counted the number of times you rolled your eyes—”

“Come on,” I said, taking Elliot’s hand in mine and leading him toward the bar. “Let’s go play Cocktail a la Tom Cruise.”

Josh followed and Kathleen sat down to talk to our mom and to watch the kids in the pool. Elliot listened to Josh and I chat as I mixed up a few drinks and had the boys try them before settling on making a pitcher of something that tasted mostly like a Mai Tai.

By the time my pitcher of drinks was made, Dad had gotten out of the pool and toweled off before walking over to us. He introduced himself to Elliot and welcomed him to our home.

“We’re happy to meet you, Elliot.”

“Thank you, sir,” Elliot said, his eyes flicking to mine before returning to the ground in front of my dad.

Dad glanced at me and gave me a small smile. I told him how hard this was going to be for Elliot because he struggled with meeting people and with getting to know people in general—I explained that he was sort of the stereotype of the introverted tech guy. Not to mention, Dad knew all about the incident in the server room.

Josh picked up the pitcher and walked back to Kathleen and Mom, leaving my dad and I alone with Elliot. Dad sat down on the stool next to Elliot as I wiped my hands on a towel. I grabbed a beer from the fridge before I came out from behind the bar to give Dad a big hug.

“If you can keep her from working too much, Elliot, I’d greatly appreciate that,” Dad said, smiling at me and reaching for his beer.

Elliot looked up and glanced between the two of us, something about our interaction relaxing him. It wasn’t like with Kathleen or even with my mom—I loved my family, and they loved me, but there was something special about the way my dad and I understood each other.

“I’ll try after she settles into her new job. I don’t think even the threat of a nuclear holocaust could stop her until she feels like she owns that position.”

Dad laughed, and I looked at Elliot, my face twisted into a shocked smile.

“Hey now—I would stop if I knew the world was ending!”

“Would you, though, sweetheart?”

I narrowed my eyes at my dad, and he squished me to his side.

“You understand her,” Dad said to Elliot. “That’s the second of the many hurdles you have to jump before she’ll let you care about her.”

“Da-ad!”

“I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t already now,” Dad said as he took a long swig of his beer, eyeing Elliot to confirm what he already knew.

“What’s the first hurdle?” Elliot asked.

“You have to be interesting enough to catch her attention.”

“Oh my god, Dad,” I said as I returned to fetch my drink from behind the bar. “Can we not dive right into the depths of my psyche?”

“It’s better than small talk,” Dad retorted as Elliot gave a surprised laugh.

Dad smiled at Elliot and angled his beer toward him.

“To the death of small talk,” Dad said, and Elliot smiled as he clinked his glass with Dad’s bottle of beer.

Despite the fact that I was slightly embarrassed, I couldn’t stop the spread of my satisfied grin. That was what my dad did—he made people comfortable, even people like Elliot who couldn’t or wouldn’t show their true selves to a stranger.

“Charles, kids! Dinner’s ready,” Mom yelled as she motioned to the caterers who were setting up the picnic tables on the front lawn.

The three of us made our way to the front lawn, Elliot’s hand finding mine as soon as I was close to him.

Dinner was quite lovely despite the July heat, my mom having had a breezy tent set up around the picnic tables and tiki torches spread out to provide the double benefit of soft light and warding off insects.

The focus was mostly off of Elliot as we all chatted, catching up and quickly falling into easy conversation about family members, neighbors, and career events, including my promotion.

Erin and Ryan arrived just as the caterers cleared away the plates, Erin grabbing at some of the leftovers and giggling her way across the lawn.

All attention was diverted to her; she was one of those people that the eye and the ear were drawn to—charismatic and full of energy.

After meeting Elliot, Erin sat down next to me and leaned in to whisper, “As soon as the olds go to bed, we’re going starry swimming—will your cutie be interested?”

Starry swimming was code for getting high in the pool.

“Yes—he’ll be quite interested.”

Erin gave me a grin and shot a wink at Elliot, who raised his eyebrows in concern.

Leaning in close to his ear, I quietly said, “I’ll explain later.”

It was after midnight by the time I rummaged through my wardrobe, wondering which bikini might interest Elliot the most. I settled on a little yellow one that was fringed with ruffles, slipping on a pair of matching flipflops before walking out of the closet.  

Elliot’s eyes were lit up by the screen of his phone until they flicked to me, then settled on me as his mouth dropped open a bit.

“Good choice?”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“Who’s texting you?”

“Angela. She wanted me to go see her dad with her for the holiday. She thinks I’m lying.”

“Let’s send her a pic,” I said, grinning and plopping down next to Elliot.

“Uhhh—”

“She doesn’t know about me?”

“Not exactly.”

I looked at Elliot and shrugged my shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I just haven’t really had the chance to tell anyone—”

“In case we break up?”

Elliot frowned and looked away, his hands coming to rest on top of his head after he tossed his phone on the bed.

He sighed, “Are you mad I’m still waiting for the hammer to fall?”

“No—I’m mad because you haven’t put your swim trunks on yet,” I said as I poked the end of his nose. “Get changed.”

Elliot groaned and reluctantly slid out of bed, heading into the closet to change. When he emerged, he was in a black t-shirt and his new swim trunks, black, but dotted with white stars. His skinny legs looked comical and even paler than his arms and face.

“We need to get you some sun, hackerman.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, and I warned him that my mother had a sixth sense for eye-rolling—she was probably getting out of bed right at that moment to come and yell at him.

Elliot looked genuinely alarmed for a moment before he narrowed his eyes and told me to shut up.

I giggled and he huffed in an attempt to disguise his own, inadvertent laugh.

Erin and Ryan were already floating around in the pool by the time we got outside.

Despite their closeness, Erin was every bit Kathleen’s opposite. The starkest contrast was Erin’s inclination to disregard rules, even though she was a lawyer. My dad always said that was what actually made her so damn good at her job.

“Heeeey!” Erin yelled, swimming to the edge of the pool and hoisting herself out. “Come on, Ry—I’m ready to really start this party.”

Ryan chose to use the stairs at the shallow end of the pool, and he walked over to us as Erin tossed him a towel. Ryan wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to the bar.

“Let’s see the goods, Elliot. Strip!”

“Please ignore her,” I said, kicking at Erin. “She’s a complete slut.”

Erin corrected me as she wiggled her engagement ring in my direction.

“Excuse me. A former slut.”

I laughed and extended my hands to help pull her up. She pressed her wet body into mine before giggling and running over to the bar.

“The answer is yes—she’s the energetic one.”

Elliot just looked at me, then to Erin and Ryan.

As he followed me to the bar, Elliot quietly said, “You’re all so . . . affectionate.”

I stopped and turned around, looking at Elliot’s face.

“Well, Charlie’s not. He’s more reserved, kinda like you.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You like each other.”

“Generally,” I said chuckling.

“Hey, Erin,” I called. “Remember that time we got in a fight over the last bag of chips?”

“Yeah—you sat on them and the bag exploded. Then you made ME clean it up!”

Erin and I laughed as Ryan and Elliot smiled, listening to us tease each other.

“You smoke?” Ryan asked Elliot as he finished rolling the joint.

“On occasion,” Elliot said, causing me to laugh again.

“My man,” Ryan said as he lit the join and offered it to Elliot first.

Erin, not be outdone, reached into the pouch on the bar and pulled out another joint, lighting it and taking a long drag before passing it to me.

“Selfish asshole,” I said as I exhaled in her face.

“Love you, sis!”

The haze of a high settled over us like the haze of the July night. Soon, we found ourselves in the pool, splashing and giggling and swimming and talking, Elliot’s lips loosened far more than usual.

Erin flirted with him unmercifully, as was her custom, and Elliot looked terrified at first, his eyes darting to me as he struggled to put distance between himself and her.

Ryan and I were both sitting in the shallow end, grinning in amusement, knowing she was only having fun. Erin would flirt with a tomato if she thought it might flirt back.  

Once Elliot realized it was all in fun, Erin even managed to make him laugh out loud with one of the loudest sounds I had ever heard Elliot make. His laugh was carefree, and it melted my heart, drawing me to him like a siren’s song.

Erin splashed me in the face before she swam away.

“Having fun?” I said, grinning, my words feeling heavy and slow.

Elliot grew quiet and I could see his eyes burning to let his voice say yes.

“You don’t have to say it out loud,” I said smiling and sliding my hands to his hips, floating closer to him.

Elliot didn’t say that he was happy, but he reached out for my legs and wrapped them around his waist before leaning in to kiss me.

Our kiss was slow, steady, and deep, and it could’ve been the high, but I felt like the entire world melted away when Elliot’s mouth was on mine.

And before I knew it, we really were all alone in the pool. So, I returned to Elliot’s lips, kissing him and grinding against him under the stars, so high and so content.

* Thursday * 

Elliot awoke with a jolt due to me staring intently at him, a grin plastered across my face. I was already dressed in a dark blue swimsuit underneath my white shorts and white lightweight, long-sleeve top.

“Do you get seasick?” I asked while dangling a bottle of water in front of his face.

Elliot blinked away the sleep as his mind struggled to figure out what I was talking about, and as his dry mouth from all the weed we smoked last night struggled to speak.

He took the bottle of water, took a long drink, and said, “I—I don’t think so?”

“Great! We’re going sailing with Charlie. I’ve already laid out an outfit,” I said gesturing to a pile of clothes that were laying across the bench at the foot of the bed.

Elliot lifted his head to look at the clothes, then sank back onto the bed.

“What else did you buy me?”

“Just a couple of non-black shirts so you don’t get heatstroke.”

“Stop buying me stuff.”

“You don’t really mind,” I said planting loud kisses across his jaw until he laughed and pushed me away.

“This weekend is going to fuck up my worldview for the rest of my life. Sailing,” Elliot huffed. “I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

“Hey—lots of people sail. They have Groupon deals all the time.”

“What the hell is a Groupon?”

“Something you will never, ever use,” I said with a chuckle. “I’ll see you downstairs in 15.”

I grabbed my tote from the bench and went downstairs to pack some light snacks. Charlie was already packing a cooler, and I knew he’d remember the booze and forget the food.

We chatted, mostly about the good weed he missed last night.

Elliot walked into the kitchen and I had to stop my mouth from dropping open. He was in the light grey shorts and the white t-shirt I laid out for him. He also opted for the black slip-on converses I tucked in his bag. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten Elliot this far from his jeans, tennis shoes, and hoodie.

He ran his hand nervously through his hair, pulling at the already straight strands.

“Charlie, this is Elliot. Elliot, my brother, Charlie.”

“Hey.”

“Hey. So, what do you say we get the hell outta here? I love Kat’s kids, but the thought of them on a sailboat—no fuckin’ way.”

“Mom and Dad know we’re taking the boat, right?”

“Leave a note? Be back before dinner.”

“Smart—we’ll avoid the pre-dinner, nothing is ready even though it is, drama.”

We each grabbed a bag or a cooler and walked out the back door toward our dock, the sun having risen only a few feet above the water. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, only a few clouds surrounding the sun, casting a soft, golden light over the water.

I looked over at Elliot and smiled, his skin glowing golden with the warmth of the sun, a slight smile on his face as he took in the sunrise, the water, and the sailboat.

I leaned closer to him and whispered, “You’re happy—and it’s okay.”

“I think it’s just nerves. I’m so far out of my element I can’t do anything other than smile like an idiot.”

I laughed and Charlie looked back.

“Elliot’s never been sailing. He’s a little nervous.”

“You’re in good hands,” Charlie said, stepping back to allow us to get on the boat first. “I started taking Y/N sailing as soon as she was out of diapers—which took a lot longer than you’d think.”

“I swear to god, Charlie,” I said, shaking my head, and seeing Elliot smirk out of the corner of my eye.

“Do not let him think he’s funny—he’ll roast me all day if he thinks he has a proper audience.”

Elliot shrugged. “There’s nothing he could tell me that would make me think you aren’t perfect.”

“Dude. No. She can’t have hooked you that deep yet?”

“Pretty deep,” Elliot said, his eyes glancing at me.

Charlie made a noise of disgust, but I didn’t miss the soft smile. If I was happy, my brother was happy, and vice-versa. It was as simple as that for us. Charlie and I never had to worry about comparing ourselves to one another, never had to worry about that slight undercurrent of jealousy that stemmed from thinking that we were not enough like our sisters.

Sailing was a lot of work, so Charlie and I taught Elliot, who was eager to learn. We stopped for lunch at the Indian Harbor Yacht Club, and Elliot stuck to my side, clearly preferring the open air of the bay over the aristocratic charm of the club.

When we set sail again, Elliot didn’t need reminding about what to do and jumped into handling the rigging like he had been doing it for years.

I could tell Elliot liked Charlie, probably because he told such embarrassing stories about me, but more likely because Charlie was just like my dad—he made people feel at ease.

When we weren’t adjusting the sails or sharing stories, the three of us just sat in companionable silence, taking in the feel of the boat on the water, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the salt in the air, and the quiet solitude of the bay.

We got back just in time for dinner, which was a repeat of the previous night with the exception that we had Erin to entertain us. The early evening passed, full of laughter and stories, and I leaned back and smiled as Elliot took in all of our dynamics, occasionally leaning across the table to ask Charlie some more questions about sailing.

“Alright, family!” my mother announced. “Time for fireworks!”

We made our way toward the beach with our blankets, and once we got settled, Elliot looked over at me smiled—at least until he ended up with a lap full of toddler.

Molly and her brothers were playing, waving sparklers around and unleashing blacksnake fireworks, and she took off running only to trip over the edge of our blanket and fall right into Elliot’s lap.

“Gah!” came Elliot’s shocked response as he looked down at Molly, his expression one of pure horror until Molly twisted around to see what, or rather who, she landed on. She looked at Elliot and started giggling.

“Silly!” she exclaimed, patting him on the arm.

“You fell on me,” Elliot replied in his normal intonation just as the first firework shot up in the distance, startling me and Elliot, but not Molly.

When Molly felt Elliot start at the noise, she asked, “Do you need to sit on me?”

Elliot chuckled and looked at her with his grey eyes, a smile crinkling the skin in the corners.

“I’m okay, and thanks for asking. The first one always scares me a little.”

Molly smiled and shifted, turning around in Elliot’s lap to face the water and to lean back onto his chest, her hair snaggling just a bit in the slight stubble on his chin.

He looked over at me and I smiled, shrugged, and scooted closer to lean against his side.

Molly “ooo-ed” and “ahh-ed” as we watched the fireworks and Elliot kept sneaking glances at her as if he couldn’t believe she were still there. I suppose there was a quietness in Elliot that just appealed to Molly, and to the boys. He didn’t treat them like they were anything other than miniature people. Kids liked to know they were human, too. Liked to feel normal, something Elliot always seemed to recognize when it was a need in someone else.

I rested my head on Elliot’s shoulder, and I would be lying if I said the thought of a normal, disgustingly domestic future with a child of our own didn’t cross my mind. And when Elliot turned his head to breath in my hair before placing a kiss to the top of my head, I would be lying if said I didn’t believe he was thinking about it, too.

* Friday * 

“Fuck,” I muttered, my mind barely awake as I scrolled through my phone.

Elliot was laid out next to me, soundly sleeping. I hated to wake him, but I had no choice.

I put my phone on the nightstand and rolled to face him, taking in the peaceful look on his face. The circles under his eyes were gone and his skin had started to take on a more golden hue. The sun had done him wonders, and I had to remind myself that I didn’t have time to get lost in the beauty of him at the moment.

I was away from work, so of course the world was on fire.

I moved in closer to Elliot and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, reaching up to run my fingers through his thick, messy hair.

Elliot stirred so I whispered, “Hey, El. Good morning.”

I could see Elliot’s eyes moving under his lids as he fought to wake up. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He shifted, stretching a little before finally opening his eyes.

The immediate smile on his face as he registered me warmed my heart.

“Morning,” he rasped, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“I lied. It’s not a ‘good’ morning,” I said frowning.

Elliot’s eyes turned more alert, so I continued.

“Our IDS went off last night—well, early this morning. The reactive program set up before your time worked so the Source IP was blocked. They tried like hell to get in, and I want to know if this was an isolated incident or if they were after other companies, too.”

“You want me to track them.”

“Can you do it remotely? Dad has a VPN.”

“Yes,” Elliot paused, then asked, “They gave him a VPN here? In a house that’s not always occupied?”

“It’s a recent development. This is sort of a secret, but Dad is planning to retire next year. He and mom plan to move to this house permanently, so they’ve been spending more time here.”

Elliot sighed.

“Smart move—the hackers, I mean.”

“I know. Is that what you would do if you were a black hat?”

Elliot looked over at me and raised his brow, “I would’ve succeeded.”

I huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his lips. Elliot quickly wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body on top of his. What began as an innocent kiss turned into a mess of breathy pants and sighs as our bodies ground together in the early morning light.

Elliot rolled us over and reached between our bodies, sliding a finger into my underwear to stroke my opening. I reached to grasp his hard length through his underwear before pushing the fronts down to pull out his cock.

I looked at him and he returned my gaze, his grey eyes darkened to a deep blue.

I spread my legs and pulled him toward me as he pushed my panties to the side. I pressed his tip against my wetness, and I longed for my ache of want to be filled by him.

Elliot narrowed his eyes with concern, but I shook my head and shifted my hips up to invite him to enter me.

Elliot pushed inside of me with ease, his eyes closing and his mouth popping open at the sensation of being inside me without a condom for the first time. He pulled me closer to his body, our t-shirts pressing into one another as we fucked in a heated frenzy of morning sex.

His face was pressed into my hair, into my neck, and he came quickly, buried unapologetically inside my body.

I slowly exhaled in a sad sigh that we didn’t have longer to just stay like this.

“We’ve got work to do,” I said, leaning up to place a soft bite on his shoulder.

“But—”

“I don’t need to get off every time, El. Sometimes, it’s more about intimacy. And that was delightfully intimate. I’m going to get shivers all day thinking about you—not that that’s much different than any other day now,” I said with a smile as I wriggled out from under his warm body.

“Get dressed,” I said with a wink as I ducked into the bathroom.

By lunchtime, Elliot had tracked the hackers and every company they attacked. They were novices and left way too many trails; my dad made frequent appearances in his study, sometimes asking if we needed anything, sometimes asking general questions, and sometimes just watching us work.

“I feel so inept,” he said, watching as our fingers flew over the keys, Elliot barely registering his presence.

“It’s like a hidden world, Dad,” I said distantly, trying not to lose the current signature of one of the IPS addresses.

By early afternoon, Elliot and I had everything we needed for me to hand over the file to the police.

My dad was impressed and peppered Elliot with questions until the boys came in to beg Pap to swim with them.

Elliot and I joined Charlie, Erin, Ryan, and Mom in the kitchen, settling at the kitchen table with Charlie, who began peppering us with questions very similar to my father’s.

It was Elliot’s turn to be the expert on something, and I listened with such contentment as he talked, unbelieving of just how well the weekend had gone, despite the early morning hack.

I should have known—it’s always the quite moments of pure contentment that are broken, shattered into a thousand pieces so you feel like you had only ever imagined experiencing genuine happiness.

Two very wet boys, one of them screeching, came skidding to a halt in the kitchen attempting to tattle to Mimi about some wrong that had been committed, except that Jared was so worked up that he just kept on skidding until his nose collided with the edge of the kitchen island, the crack that sounded through the room sending a wave of nausea through me.

Jared bounced off the island and fell onto the floor, blood pouring from his nose. I heard Elliot’s reaction before I saw or registered his look of panic. The chair he had been sitting in had flung back as he jumped up and he was pale and trembling as he stared at the mess that was Jared on the floor. Charlie jumped into action, running outside to get Kathleen, and Erin, Ry, and Mom all scrambled to get supplies to stop the bleeding and to tend to Jared.  

Elliot looked crazed in that moment, his mind gone, so far away, just like that fateful night in the server room.

Everyone was so preoccupied with Jared’s bleeding nose that no one noticed Elliot’s reaction. I went to reach for him, to pull him into the other room, but he jumped away from me, his eyes frantic as he searched for an escape.

He took off in the direction of the stairs and I followed, feeling even sicker to my stomach.

I followed Elliot to my room, and he went straight into the closet, settling back against the wall, his breathing irregular, his eyes vacant.

“Elliot,” I said in a tone that was very similar to that night in the server room.

I approached him slowly, knowing better than to reach for him this time. I settled onto the floor, my every movement deliberate.

“Whatever’s happening in your head right now, just know that it’s not real anymore. I’m real. I’m right here,” I said, tapping the floor next to him, still not daring to touch him. “I’m right here, El.”

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Elliot said in a tone I had never heard before, his eyes snapping into focus and staring into me, icy and furious.

“This is all your fault. You wormed in, wriggled deep inside, and you’ve got no idea the kinda shit you’re gonna find when you’ve burrowed in deep enough. I can’t protect him if you keep forcing him to open up. To be vulnerable,” Elliot spat.

“Him who, Elliot? Your father?”

“Fuck you,” Elliot said, still looking at me like he wished I were dead.

“He’s . . . gone, remember? Your dad’s gone.”

Elliot said nothing, but pulled his legs tight up to his body. His shaking hands wrapped around his knees.

My eyes were filled with tears as I moved to sit next to Elliot against the wall of my closet. I swiped at the tears I couldn’t hold back, their wet heat so offensive to my fingers as I rubbed them away and onto my shorts.

We sat in silence for a long time, and I was afraid to look at Elliot again. Afraid to see that twisted expression on his face that said it hated me.

My ass had long ago grown numb, but I didn’t dare move. I didn’t want Elliot to think he was alone when he came back from whatever was going on in his head.

I was busy pulling at the frays on my shorts and continuing to fight off tears when Elliot’s soft voice broke the silence.

“Y/N?” Elliot asked, his expression tightening in a wave of confusion.

I finally looked at him again, and it was if he’d undergone a change. The iciness was gone, and it was once again the Elliot I had always known looking at me.

“What happened? I don’t—I can’t remember anything after . . . after—” Elliot looked so lost, so worried.

“Shh,” I said. “Don’t try to remember. It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is! I have to remember. I need to remember!” he yelled, causing me to flinch.

“Jared had an accident—slammed into the kitchen island,” I said immediately, watching Elliot’s face as he stared at me, wide-eyed and desperate. “He has a broken nose. There was blood everywhere, and you just . . . lost it. It was like that night in the server room. You’ve been here with me, Elliot. Right here. But your mind . . . wasn’t.”

“Why can’t I remember?” Elliot asked, his voice tinged with agony.

“Your mind isn’t ready for you to remember. Whatever happened to you—your mind just isn’t ready to let you remember. Repression is a powerful coping mechanism.”

Elliot looked at me for a long time. His eyes searching mine before they focused on my hands in my lap, the wet spots from my tears an evident mark on the denim of my shorts.

Elliot’s eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled as he fought not to cry.

“I hate this,” he breathed. “I hate that I can’t ever be normal.

“Come here,” I said, pulling his head to my chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and I could feel the wetness of his tears on my chest as he began to cry. I had a million questions, but I wasn’t sure Elliot could even answer them or that I should even ask them.

And talking it out wasn’t what he needed right now. What he needed now more than anything was someone to make him feel safe and loved.

“Shh,” I whispered into his hair as I held him, my face buried in the sweet scent of my own shampoo that he had used, the thick, soft strands of his hair tickling my nose and cheeks.

“You’re safe with me, Elliot. What’s in the past can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let it. Know why?”

He shook his head against my chest.

“Because I love you.”

A breathy sob escaped from between Elliot’s lips and he clutched onto me even tighter than the night I saved him from the server room.

“I love you,” I whispered next to his ear before pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, and I’ll do anything I can to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

We stayed like that for a long time, so long I thought Elliot had fallen asleep, and my eyes had begun to drift shut.

I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door, and Elliot jumped up, clearly not asleep.

“It’s probably just someone coming to check on us. Just stay here,” I said pulling the door closed enough so no one could see in.

I opened the door and stepped out into the hall to talk to Charlie who confirmed that Jared had indeed broken his nose. Charlie thought it was somewhat comical now that the hubbub was over, but I just sighed and shook my head.

“Remember that time I broke my nose over Thanksgiving? I still don’t think Mom’s forgiven me,” he said with a small laugh.

“No—she still won’t allow you to play football. And now she’ll never let Jared and Jack swim again,” I said.

“Is Elliot okay? I saw him bolt out of the kitchen.”

“He doesn’t do blood,” I said, the lie to protect Elliot falling easily from my lips.

“That was a lot of fucking blood,” Charlie confirmed. “Always a time to be had at the Y/L/N summer house!”

I shook my head and smiled softly, then told Charlie goodnight, thanking him for checking on us, too.

“Hey,” I said gently as I pushed open the closet door. “Charlie said Jared’s fine. They set his nose and he’s going to have two spectacularly black eyes for a while, but he’s doing just fine. Let’s get you the hell off this floor and into bed. You cannot tell me that your ass is not full of pins and needles.”

We undressed, quietly and quickly, sliding into the bed after Elliot opened the balcony door to let in the night’s breeze and the noise of the water on the bay. In the distance, there were fireworks popping off as people’s celebrations continued.

When we settled into bed, Elliot faced away from me, but backed into my body, touching me just enough so that he knew I was there. I wanted to wrap my arms around him again, but I refrained. He clearly needed some space, but not so much to know I wasn’t there. I had a feeling I would end up with a body covered in Elliot in the morning once his mind was at ease and his subconscious was free to do as it pleased.

Elliot clearly experienced some kind of panic attack triggered by Jared’s injury. As for the way he spoke to me, it was some sort of defense mechanism.

I shivered and hoped I never had to see that part of Elliot again.

* Saturday morning *

I was right.

I awoke to a mouthful of black hair as Elliot was tucked into me, his arm wrapped snuggly over me and his head resting on my chest, just over my heartbeat.

My waking thoughts returned to last night, and I wondered whether I should ask Elliot about what happened. I wanted to know more about his past, but I really wanted to know how to help him now.

I snuggled into the top of his hair, and breathed him in.

My next waking thought was that I had told Elliot I loved him—fuck.

He damn near had a meltdown after I asked him to be my boyfriend, so I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen when he processed what I said to him. I wondered if I should start with that—maybe he wouldn’t even remember?

My phone lit up and I reached over to check my texts. Kathleen said they were leaving soon and wanted to say goodbye.

I slipped out from under Elliot’s grasp and threw on some shorts, trying not to wake him as I wrestled my hair into a bun.

“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily.

“Kat’s leaving soon and I want to tell her and the kids goodbye.”

“Did I—did they see?”

“No. Char’s the only one who noticed you left the room rather quickly, and I told him blood wasn’t your thing.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna tell the kids goodbye?”

Elliot nodded and shuffled out of bed, reaching for the same shorts he had on last night. We both used the bathroom and then headed downstairs, the smell of a spectacular breakfast assaulting our noses.

Erin came pounding down the stairs after us and quickly read the room before inhaling dramatically and saying, “Ahhh! Nothing like the smell of bacon in the morning, right Jare?”

Everyone laughed as Jared glared at her and then even more when he couldn’t stop his own laugh.

We all ate breakfast together, and I could tell Elliot was tense, the easiness of the previous days gone, replaced by the anxiety that just refused to let go of him for any real length of time.

I had struggled with my own bouts of anxiousness and depression, but nothing had ever been as serious as Elliot’s. My heart ached for him, and I resolved not to let the incident in the closet go . . . like I had with the incident in the server room.

If I was ever going to help him, or get him help, I needed to get him to talk to me.

We helped Kathleen and Josh load up the car and stood in the driveway to say goodbye. Molly walked over to Elliot and clutched onto his legs, so he picked her up and hugged her, much to her delight.

Jared gave us all a reluctant hug, and I planted a kiss to the top of his head before whispering that Uncle Char broke his nose over Thanksgiving and while he was in the ER with Mimi and Pap, the turkey burned.

Jared’s face split into an expression of glee, despite his swollen eyes and nose. He looked at Charlie and said, “Well at least I didn’t ruin the Thanksgiving turkey!”

“Thanks, sis,” Charlie said.

We waved goodbye, and I asked Elliot if he wanted to take a walk on the beach. He nodded yes, so we walked across the stone path and through the front yard until our feet hit sand.

We were quiet for a long time, enjoying the cool lapping of the water at low tide as we walked.

I tested Elliot’s desire to be touched and reached for his hand.

“It’s okay if you want to pull away,” I said as his fingers curled around mine.

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

I wanted to ask him—I was burning to ask him something about last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It may have been that Elliot seemed to be relaxing again, or that I feared pulling him back to that dark place, but more likely, it was my own defense mechanisms wrapping their protective arms around me while I dealt with the weight of my unacknowledged I love you.

We walked in companionable silence, both of us lost in our thoughts until Elliot started talking about yesterday’s hack. We fell into an easy, safe conversation, and I found myself okay with that. I knew I couldn’t ignore the much more difficult conversation we needed to have forever, but what was the harm in letting Elliot have some time to process? Patience. That was what he needed right now.

When it started raining that afternoon, we decided to head back into the city a little early to beat the surge of Sunday traffic.  

We said goodbye to my family, and Elliot thanked them all for making him feel so welcome. I smiled as I watched him interact with my mom and my dad more easily than I could’ve ever dreamed.

Charlie and Elliot gave each other head nods, but the look of soft affection that passed between them made me smile.

And that soft moment was quickly replaced by yet another quiet moment of horror when Erin launched herself into Elliot’s arms, dramatically declaring that she’d die if she didn’t see him again before the end of summer.

Elliot patted her and stilled, waiting for her to release him, but when she leaned up and whispered something in his ear, he laughed, that same booming laugh from the night in the pool.

I found myself smiling like an idiot, again. Despite Jared’s broken nose and Elliot’s subsequent panic attack, the weekend was a true success.

Our drive back was quiet, music playing faintly on the radio as the rain splattered on the windshield of my SUV.

I stopped outside of Elliot’s building, the wipers a steady beat in the background as he pulled his backpack up to the front seat.

“I’m sure you’re ready for some alone time.”

“I like being with you,” Elliot offered.

I smiled, sadness still tugging at my heart, not just because of finally beginning to understand the depth of Elliot’s pain, but because it was clear he wasn’t ready to love me. Like me, just not love me. And I needed to figure out a way to be okay with that.

“Do you need help with any—”

“Thank you for—”

We looked at each other and laughed, one of those awkward laughs that happens when there’s just so much to unpack but you’re too tired and you just don’t want to yet.

“It’s just one bag. I can manage,” Elliot said.

“You’re welcome for the weekend,” I returned.

“I wasn’t going to thank you for the weekend. I wanted to,” Elliot paused and collected his thoughts, his eyes looking at my hand as it rested on the gear shift. “I wanted to thank you for what you said. It meant a lot. And it means a lot that you understood what I needed to hear and you were willing to say it to me, no matter if you didn’t mean it.”

“What?” I asked stupidly.

“I know you didn’t mean it. You were just being good to me. You’re always good to me.”

“Elliot,” I said firmly. “I would never tell someone I loved them if I didn’t mean it. Come on. You have to expect better from people—not people. From me. Expect better from me.”

Elliot looked at me, his mouth open in what looked like shock before he pulled in his bottom lip and bit it, his eyes blinking slowly.

“You meant it?”

“I still mean it.”

Elliot looked like he was about to short-circuit.

“Hey—hey,” I said, forcing him to meet my gaze as I lifted his chin. “We aren’t teenagers. I don’t need you to say it back just because I said it. And I’m not going to take it back because you didn’t say it back. I feel the way I feel and I’m so happy about it, El. And I hope you feel the same way someday. But that’s your decision, not mine. I’m not going to push you. I won’t say it again if you don’t want me—”

“I do,” Elliot said, his eyes burning into mine with their intensity, effectively cutting me off from my explanation. “I want you to say it when you feel it. If you mean it, I want you to say it. I’m just not ready—but you have no idea, fuck I don’t even have an idea really, how it makes me feel to know that you think—”

“Not think—”

“That you know how you feel and you feel that way about me.”

“Maybe if I say I love you enough, you’ll start believing it.”

Elliot closed his eyes as if he were memorizing the sound of my voice, memorizing the way the loaded word hung in the air.

“Can it be enough, for now, that you want to give it? Can I have time to figure out how to . . . process that?”

“Time as in we don’t see each other time, or time as in we just keep doing our thing and don’t talk about this for a while?”

Elliot smiled and replied, “The second thing you said. This weekend established an unrealistic expectation—every morning I woke up and it was next to you. Waking up tomorrow is going to be awful.”

“We could always move in together?” I said, wondering if Elliot would read the teasing that was dancing behind my eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. Are you trying to kill me?” he said with a huff of a laugh.

“Goodnight, Elliot. I’ll miss you.”

“Text me before you fall asleep,” he said as he leaned over the console, his voice low.

Elliot kissed me goodnight, his lips soft and warm as they moved against mine, his teeth pulling on my lower lip before he drew away.

By the time I opened my eyes, he was closing the passenger door. I opened the liftgate and he grabbed his bag, shutting the door firmly.

I watched him jog up the short steps to his building and duck inside, an ache that would someday become all too familiar took hold of my heart as I watched him disappear. 

[ritacaroline]

Starshine                         Ch.6 Jimmy Page    Fan Fiction

Sequel to  In The Light.

“Alright, babe, I’m leaving. John’s waiting outside, I’ll see you in a few hours.” Jimmy called, as he exited the house with his guitar case in hand. Jill answered, “Ok, I hope it goes great.”  She had invited a few friends over for swimming, so needed to pass, on joining him at his practice this time. Mrs. K. was busy 

 prepping a lunch and refreshments for them, for the poolside. Jill wore her orange swimsuit and a long swimwear cover up. Very relaxed. First one there was Clare, next guest to arrive was Nell. Clare and Nell had met briefly a few days prior, so they were glad to get a chance to chat and know each other better. Next, Alison arrived, Peter Grant’s girlfriend, then, Maureen Baldwin arrived. All went in the pool, laughing, swimming, enjoying the warm sun. Linda, Rob’s girlfriend, was also expected, but not till awhile later, since she had some responsibilities in town. Regarding the lunch, first Mrs. K. brought out a few pitchers of drinks. Pina Coladas, Iced tea, Margaritas. Fruit for the cup edges, crystal salt for the Margaritas. After all the women were a bit high, she brought out the food, in a basket with handles, for easy carrying. There were several different types of elaborate sandwiches, and some containers of various salad types, like macaroni salad, veggie salads, pasta salad.

  Delicious deli type treats, pickles. The ladies enjoyed their food at the outdoor picnic table with a huge umbrella over it. And they loved the feast. The work was not difficult for Mrs. K. and she loved seeing the girls having fun. A few moments later, they caught a glimpse of Mrs. K. leaving through the gate. Jill called over, “Rebecca ! Why not come and sit for awhile ? Grab a sandwich with us ?“ Mrs. K. replied, “Oh no ! You girls relax and have fun. I don’t want to interfere or cause you to restrict your conversation due to me. But thank you.“ 

“Well, I don’t think you could cause that to happen ! But, it’s up to you, and come back if you change your mind. Or next time then.” Jill responded. 

Lots of fun subjects were covered, little bits of gossip, comments about the men, movies they’d seen, lots of laughter. It was a great morning and afternoon for them all. More drinks, more swimming, more laughing. Soon, a couple of them had to go, but the fun continued awhile longer for the others, and Linda would be there shortly.

Meanwhile, at the studio in town, the men had completed a good solid two hours of intense practice. They’d also been rearranging various musical phrases to better the sound. It was quite a bit of diligent focusing for Jimmy, but he was happy with the results. At noon, they all drifted down the hall to the room that they used for the dining area. Some of them had a smoke, some had a quick lunch. At that moment, there were footsteps heard in the hallway, Jim wasn’t sure who it could be. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He also next heard female voices approaching the room, and soon the visitors stood at their doorway. They were four women, unknown to Jimmy. Quite attractive ladies. One spoke, a red headed young woman. She voiced, “Hey Rob. Thought we would take you up on your offer to drop by the studio. Any Wednesday at lunchtime, you said. Remember ?” with a huge toothy smile. Dripping in flirtation. Rob responded, “Ahh, yes, my love, Vanessa ! How lovely to see you. We just completed some heavy work, and were just having a break. A perfect time to have a little visit. Come on in !”  Vanessa headed into the room, and waved her three friends in, behind her. Two dark haired ladies and a blonde. She introduced them, as “This is Molly, this is Kara, and this blonde lady is Glenda.” They all shook each other’s hands, and the girls already knew the men, just from magazines, albums, concerts, fame in general. There was a light discussion happening as the ladies sipped on soft drinks. Rob asked, “Vanessa, why not come with me, over to the sound wall room, where I practice my voice ? We can chat in there for awhile. How about it ? “ “Why certainly, darling. Point the way.” she answered, with a knowing voice. It indicated, “I’m up for anything.” though she didn’t say that directly. Jimmy was a little surprised, since he hadn’t seen Rob with any woman since he’d been living with Linda, his girl. Okay. It’s not my business, he thought. John Paul and John Henry stood, finished with their break. They had mentioned that they were about to resume the practice. The ladies asked, “Mind if we come along and listen ?” John Paul said, “Not at all, c’mon in, there’s seating in there.” So Molly and Kara stood and followed. However, Glenda, the blonde did not. Jimmy began to stand, to join the guys also. But she had purposely remained in the dining area, alone with just Jimmy. Sipping on a Dr. Pepper. In order to detain him from exiting, she immediately began asking him questions, regarding various songs of his, and other music questions, as she was laughing a lot, smiling heavily, and in flirt mode. Jim was kind, stayed the extra few minutes to answer her questions.

Rob and Vanessa, in the sound room, were enjoying each other’s company quite a bit. She mentioned to Rob, “Oh, by the way, my friend Glenda is insanely in love with Jimmy. That’s why I brought her along. I thought she’d get a chance to meet him, and, well, you know, whatever.” Rob responded, “Well, I doubt she’ll get a moment of attention from Jimmy. He just got engaged this week and he’s mind numbingly in love with his girl.” Rob was leaning his butt against a counter top in there, with his legs apart. And Vanessa saw that as her opportunity to approach him. They had met at a club several nights ago, and sort of hit it off. He didn’t hesitate to invite her then, to a neutral meeting place, their practice studio. He wasn’t necessarily attempting to cheat against Linda. But, alternately, he wasn’t opposed to a little non committal fun now and then. Maybe a little bit of kissing wouldn’t be so awful, he thought. Especially when encountering a woman as fascinating and delicious looking as this gorgeous red head. With a killer bod.

Vanessa slowly stepped closer to him, admiring and fondling his wild halo of golden curls. She stepped directly in between his open legs and leaned in right against him. She began a sweet gentle appreciation of Rob’s wet lips as her two hands gripped the sides of his slender hips. She seductively kissed him as she continued to massage his hips. It was so sensual, Rob didn’t have the

strength in him to stop her. It felt so wonderful having his lips engaged with this lovely creature, he nearly forgot he was involved with someone. He soon became helpless and all he could do was gently return her arousing gestures. Love the one you’re with, he had heard, was the fashion. So, in no time they were passionately kissing, in a hot slow romantic embrace. Rob was loving it, feeling her sweet tongue against his, and against his neck, he was licking her lips, feeling her hips deeply pressing and rubbing against his. The motion and touching was surely beginning to start some wood down below, which was far from controllable for him. Soon Vanessa had her delicate hand against his private area, caressing him. She slowly unzippered him and slid her hand right down the front of his jeans, for a better feel. He was in pure paradise, lost in her wet kisses and her hand massaging his jewels. His parts down south were now fully engorged, much to Vanessa’s delight. Suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, a loud voice startled them right out of their entanglement. “Do you MIND getting your hand off my man’s dick !!??” shouted Linda. She had the look of a grisly bear about to attack. She had just dropped into the studio, delivering a lunch which she had just picked up for Rob, thinking he’d appreciate it. But, what she had just observed made her breathe fire and grenades. She really had faith in the belief that Rob was always loyal to her. However, he was caught just now like a deer in the headlights, frozen in shock, and guilt. He cared for Linda, and quite a bit.  But he just happened to have a case of wandering dick at this particular moment. Linda made a fist and punched Vanessa in the shoulder, barely hurting her at all. But - did so, probably just for the drama, wanting to show she was also furious with this red headed tramp. However, Vanessa had not a clue that Rob was off the market. He hadn’t given any sign of that detail, to Vanessa. How was she supposed to know ?  Linda looked incensed, as heavy tears rolled down her face. She screeched at Rob, “Go drown yourself, you cheating bag of shit !!  Don’t ever come near me again !! I am so done with you.” Her voice was shrill as she struggled through her tears. Then, slammed the door harshly as she exited.

Linda decided to stomp her way through the hallway, to see if maybe Jill or Clare were present. Maybe she could get some comfort or a hug, or commiserate with either of them, on what a waste of airspace Rob was.  Simultaneously, just down the hall, Jimmy and Glenda were mildly chatting. Just bullshit, Jimmy thought. Nothing interesting, he was just being polite. He was about to get going back to practice with John and Bonz. He stood up, and turned way behind himself, looking to see if he’d left his pick there. But, when he turned back around properly, much to his surprise, Glenda was right in front of him. An inch away.  She instantly placed her two hands behind his neck and immediately, mashed her mouth onto his. He was caught off guard, confused, what’s even happening ? Why is this stranger in my face ? He had no intention of going anywhere near her, and he put his hands against her sides to push her off of him, ….however, it was just the exact moment that Linda burst into the room, crying. All Linda caught of the view in front of herself, was Jimmy and this unknown blonde, mouth to mouth. She just howled, “Oh my God ! Jimmy ! You pig !!” and turned away instantly. Thinking, “I was just at your engagement party this week !!” She began running toward the exit of the building. As she passed the room Rob had been in, he was in the hallway by now, attempting to explain his way out of this. Rob called to her, “Linda ! Don’t, .. don’t leave, it’s not,.. Oh Hell !!” She was thoroughly disgusted with all of them and just kept quickly marching, at this point. Couldn’t care less about hearing his story. Pouring tears. Once outside, she hopped into her car, and took off, leaving wheels.  

Jimmy was now pissed off with this strange woman who had over stepped her boundaries. He didn’t even know her, had no interest in her, and certainly no intention of any move that may hurt Jill. Ever. He was way in love and hadn’t even noticed another woman in many months. He forcibly pushed Glenda away, she stumbled backwards but caught her balance and stood straight. He exclaimed, angrily, ”Great ! You’ve messed things up for me pretty well. Get your friends and get out ! “

Next ch. (7)   https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184961652226/starshine-ch

Chapter Index for “Starshine” is located at bottom section of Ch.1 , click here : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy-page-fan

Link to “In The Light” - original fan fic - https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/Fan%20Fiction

JimJam Mistresses @tremble-and-shake @ledoftherings @gimmeeshelter @adonna1964 @justanotherzosofangirl @starchild0985 @girlofthemoon75 @bonscottintheimpala @12909168 @jjullz @cherryfloyd @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake @save-me-from-the-gallows-pole @soy-laprincessa @marauderofworlds @ultrabitchystudentperfectionus @satanspizzadeliveryguy @misspenylane @zi-zidane @catherine0627 @pagingpage-the-original @amythesticon @strangerspassinginthestreet @ thezeppelinbeatles @pour-some-sugar-on-mee  @carryfire18  @j-james-thlk @70shoney @strange-broo @page-daddy @nadianad1337 @yerawizardjimmeh @jimmyypagey @magnetacuddles84 @rock6880 @ledxzeppelin @kinkyspice  @thelandofnevermore  @my-golden-lion  @itsblackbetty  @magnetacuddles84   @luvejimmy  @palenickelsaladparty @jennmarieetn 

*Please advise if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

[frederator-studios]

Grace Ellis: The Frederator Interview

Grace Ellis is among the most exciting comic and TV writers working today, and all from coffee shops ‘round Columbus, Ohio. The first comic she created, Lumberjanes, is a NY Times bestselling series, in development as a movie, and brought her home Eisner and GLAAD awards for her cat to try to knock over. Grace is currently writing one of the most magical comics of the year, Moonstruck, but still found time to pen some awesome episodes of Bravest Warriors season 4 (after she determined that the gig was not, indeed, a prank). Grace and I sat down to talk log-doodling, queer representation in comics, and the commonalities between Beth Tezuka and Captain America.

Having written Lumberjanes: were you a Girl Scout yourself?

For a little, until my troop disbanded! Lumberjanes re-connected me with my Girl Scout roots. The inspiration for a lot of the woodsy stuff comes from an outdoor camp I was part of. After college I worked for Autostraddle, the biggest online network for queer women. They host a weeklong sleepaway camp every year called A-Camp. It has a bunch of panels, talent shows, activities - really cool stuff. When I was a camp counselor one year in Big Bear, I made friends with an attendee, Shannon Watters, who’s a writer and editor at Boom! Comics. Later, she approached me about making a comic together.

Wow! So Lumberjanes was your very first comic... ever?!

Yup! The first issue of Lumberjanes was the first comic I ever wrote.

That’s amazing! Wait, backin’ up - what were you doing before?

My big kid job was journalism. I studied a mix of journalism, theater and women’s studies at Ohio State. After school ended I started pitching around and got a gig writing ads for Playbill. Then I got some work with Bustle too. I was doing sort of garbage writing: mostly TV recaps and some vaguely personal stuff here and there. Very little actual journalism. Then I got the job with Autostraddle when the site was still fairly new.

So you taught yourself both comic writing and screenwriting?

Pretty much! I was already familiar with story structure, so it was really about learning to adapt those elements to different formats, and take advantage of each medium. That comes with practice more than teaching. Every format is different. Like with comics, I go panel by panel, one at a time. I have to keep framing in mind while focusing on what’s happening in the scene, and what the characters are saying, because comics are super dialogue-driven. Writing comics is like trying to write the minimum in order to say the most. 

How did Lumberjanes develop from the first ‘let’s make a comic!’ moment?

We drew a lot of inspiration from Ms. Kitty Fantastic and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I developed the concept with Shannon and we started from just rough outlines of the characters. Then Brooklyn A. Allen came on and designed them. And after that we brought on Noelle Stevenson as a second writer. Working all together was really smooth, a cut-and-dry process. We only needed one Skype call per issue!

Which girl in Lumberjanes are you the most like?

Molly - well, I’m always told to answer Molly! She’s the timid and unsure one. But hopefully Jo as well! I like to think that I can be a leader.

How did you come to write for Bravest Warriors?

Shannon submitted me! Benjamin (Townsend, Story Editor) reached out. I actually forwarded the email to my lawyer right away. I was sure that I was getting scammed. I was so excited when it turned out legit!

(“Catbug! You don’t just bust in on someone when they're dukin’. Buddy... we talked about this.”)

Do you have a favorite character in Bravest?

Catbug is the most fun to write. Before pitching the Detective Catbug episode I wrote this season, I prepared by hanging out with a 5 year old. It actually helped! Catbug has the funniest voice, I just love writing him. But Beth is my favorite Bravest Warrior. Once I’d nailed down who she is, I really liked writing her. She kind of reminds me of Captain America: she’s unbeatable and refuses to stay down. And she’s unapologetically herself.

She truly is That Beth. How did you first start working on Moonstruck?

It actually started as a school exercise, with no plan to extend it! 2 years ago I was doing a program with Columbus College of Art & Design, where they partner their artists with pro comic writers. I was lucky enough to be accidentally (I later found out, secretly-totally-on-purpose) partnered with Shae Beagle. The assignment was to write a 5 page scene, with 2 twists; the first building off the second. That became the opening of Issue 1: the first twist is that we’re not in a normal human coffee shop - it’s full of mythological creatures. The second is that the girl we're following who seems totally normal… well, she doesn’t view herself as normal at all.

I’ve wondered why Julie is so insecure, when she’s surrounded by such a diversity of mythological people?

For Julie, it’s really this fear of losing control. She’s has a deep sense that in her werewolf form, she’s not normal. She’s not right. So she’s internalized some really negative stuff about what that means for and about her.

Are there levels of privilege and marginalization in this world around being human or mythological?

Yes - I’ve been working on how to represent societal privilege surrounding mythological and non-mythological people. A big inciting factor in Julie’s story is her falling in love with a girl, who - spoiler alert! - is also a werewolf like she is. But Selena has a totally different perspective on who she is. She’s comfortable with herself.

Your characters are so distinct - what is your process for nailing a character’s voice?

It’s a lot of time thinking about who the character is; how they’d react to things, based on their personalities and what they’ve lived. Living close to a college is a big help because I’m surrounded by people around the age of the characters I write. Overhearing conversations is often inspirational! I also pull a lot from real life and my own friends. I have the best time writing over-enthusiastic characters: the ones that are high energy, always on, and oblivious.  Julie, on the other hand - it was tougher to find her voice. She’s so timid, yet she also has this sardonic edge. It helped when I realized that she would say “Sorry” all the time. It’s her instinct to apologize for herself, even when she has no reason to! After figuring out something like that, that’s core to her character, I was able to grow her voice from there.

What do you find most challenging about writing? And most rewarding?

Being done is very rewarding! And feeling like you nailed it. The worst thing is when you don’t want to write. It’s easier now that it’s my job, because I have to do it. When I was an AV tech at a movie theater, I always wanted to write, but I wouldn’t do it. What’s tough is that I would rather think than write. Thinking is underrated. But the problem is, I know that I should write something - anything! - every single day.

Do you ever do any of your own art?

Nah, I’m not an artist. I draw sometimes. I’m a prolific log-drawer.

Logs?!

Yeah (laughs) I sometimes fixate on one thing and it becomes the only thing I doodle. Logs are that.

That is… oddly fitting! What is your creative process like?

It’s not very strict. My rule is that I leave my house every day before noon and go to a coffee shop. Then I just plug into it.

What do you like to do outside of writing?

Is there such a thing? Video games, especially during winter. Reading a lot of comics, plays and nonfiction. Biographies are great character studies. Currently, I’m reading a novel, The Blunderer by Patricia Highsmith. For writing pretty light and happy comics, I really do like books about heavy guilt and punishment...

Speaking of Patricia Highsmith - with her Price of Salt such a cornerstone in queer writing - what are your thoughts on representation and writing queer characters?

Oh yeah - we’re all familiar with the tropes. The sad stories, the coming out stories. They’re important in their way. But they aren’t what I need to write! I’m not a sad person, so I can’t just put that on. I write upbeat stories about characters who are already out and accepted. I’m a happy, out lesbian. So to represent those characters isn’t just what’s truthful to me - it also says to readers that hey, you can be a happy, out lesbian too!

Do you think there is a market for young adult media with queer characters and themes that didn’t exist a decade ago?

Absolutely. It used to be that anytime a writer put a gay or lesbian character in anything - let alone a main character - they were pigeon-holed as a ‘queer writer’. And a decade ago, that could severely limit, or even ruin, a writer’s career. Now, ‘queer media’ isn’t just a subgenre - gay and lesbian representation is coming into the mainstream. It’s a changing world. Lumberjanes did so well, it uncovered a whole market of tween, teenage girls and queer women. And there hasn’t been enough made for them! Backstagers, Zodiac: Star Force - a lot of the new comics coming out are riding on a wave of realization for the comic companies. They figured out that they were leaving money on the table when it came to queer female audiences.

What’s your advice to people who want to write comics or TV shows?

Write a lot. Write every day, if you can. It’ll make you a better writer. And put stuff on the Internet. It sounds scary, but it’s the best way to get your work seen. At this point, people are getting jobs off of Twitter. Networking is BS!

What is your Dream, or dream gig?

My dream is to write things that I’m proud of in many different mediums. A musical. A video game. A movie. I’m a really big fan of form. It’s an almost intellectual interest: the different things each format brings to the table, and how you work with each to find the best possible way to tell a story.

What are some of your favorite Things?

I loved Saturday Morning Cartoons. Recess, The Weekenders. I like weird slice of life children’s stories. Calvin and Hobbes is a huge favorite. LA Noir is my favorite video game. And one of my favorite comic artists is Alison Bechdel. She does a strip called Dykes to Watch Out For that is absolutely hilarious. ❀

Follow Grace on Twitter and Instagram.

Thanks for the interview Grace! We’ll no doubt be keeping up with you. Can’t wait for the great stories you’ll tell, across all the formats that strike your fancy!

- Cooper ❀

[cwartsyswritingblog]

It’s The Thought That Count’s: Part Three.

While they waited for Molly, Baxter and Alastor sat huddled up together at the end of Baxter’s bed. Alastor had looked so unsure of himself since that phone call ended. He just sat by Baxter’s side and held him as if he didn’t know what else to do. It was worrying to see him like this and Baxter also found that he couldn’t do anything more than hug his partner and hold him until Molly came.

Time seemed to pause in that moment and nothing existed to Baxter except for his poor, worried partner.

A knock at the door snapped them both back into reality. Alastor went to answer it and in came molly. Still in her pyjamas and sporting quite an impressive bed head. The only thing indicating she was a medical professional was the stethoscope protruding slightly out of the open bag she must have hastily thrown it into.

“You should have phoned me, dumbass.” Molly sighed to Baxter as he entered his room.

Baxter gave her a weak smile as Alastor went straight back to his side and resumed his dutiful position as Baxter’s cuddle dispenser. Molly looked at them as if they were a pair of snuggling puppies, which was pretty embarrassing for Baxter. But nowhere near embarrassing enough to stop him from putting his arms around Alastor.

But of course, he had to let go so Molly could check him over properly. Which he did with great reluctance.

Molly took his temperature, checked his breathing and the state of his throat. All of which were standard of a medical check-up for his illness. But when she started checking his heartbeat and his pulse, he knew something was up. These things weren’t of any necessity and Molly was professional enough to know this. The only reason Baxter could think of for Molly’s sudden over thoroughness was that she was doing this for show to make Alastor feel better. Baxter could not have been more thankful for Molly’s good thinking.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him.

“Apart from the blood and tiredness, not too bad.” he answered in total honesty.

“Did you get any sleep while I was gone?” Alastor cut in.

“I tried to,” Baxter told him truthfully, “But I had the same problems I did before and then when I started coughing up blood, I couldn’t get back to sleep at all.”

Baxter didn’t realise how thoughtless he had been saying that until he saw Alastor’s face. The poor thing looked pained with guilt.

“I could have phoned you at any time.” Baxter reminded him, “I just chose not to. Silly, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” Alastor said, “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes”.

“He’s a terrible patient, isn’t he?” commented Molly.

“The worst.” Alastor agreed.

“Hey now.” Baxter defended, “I haven’t been that bad today, have I?

“No.” Alastor agreed with narrowed eyes, “Not after I caught you sneaking off to work.” 

He shook his head and said to Molly, “He’d drop dead without me, I swear. He treats himself like a machine.”

Hearing these words only added to the pang of guilt that kept stabbing at Baxter from inside his chest. He was still used to his decisions affecting himself and only himself. It never felt any better when he was reminded that wasn’t the case anymore. Cuddling up to Alastor once more was his way of saying sorry for his lack of consideration.

“Besides from coughing up blood, have you been experiencing any other new symptoms?” Molly asked.

“No. None at all.” He answered.

“How are you on pain?” She asked him another question. It went without saying that this one was of great interest to Alastor.

“It’s come and gone but overall, it hasn’t been too bad.” Baxter said, “As of yet, I haven’t felt the need to take any medication.”

Molly seemed satisfied with the information she had gathered. “Everything seems to be normal, chest infection wise.” She said in a conclusion that was much more aimed towards Alastor than it was Baxter as she reached for something in her bag.

“I think we can both agree that you’re not in a bad enough condition to need these. But I’ll leave them with you just in case you get worse.” She said to Baxter, handing him a box of pills. Which turned out, as Baxter expected, to be amoxicillin 500mg.

“That’s about all I can do for him.” She said to Alastor, “I’d say take care of him but I know you will.” 

“And as for you,” She turned to Baxter, “rest and let me know how you are tomorrow. I gotta get going”.

Baxter thanked her for everything and almost said goodbye but questioned the point. Even though she had done all she could and there was no more reason for her to be here, she probably wasn’t going right now. Not if Alastor had anything to say about it. He looked at his partner. As he predicted, Alastor was appalled by the briefness of Molly’s visit.

“But what about the blood?” He protested, “Can’t we do anything about that?” 

“That will clear up on its own, Alastor. Like everything else.” Baxter told him gently.

“He’s right.” Molly confirmed, “He’ll get better by himself, Al. You’ll see. ”

Alastor wasn’t entirely convinced, “You said that medicine you gave him is for if he gets worse but surely, there’s something we can give him now?”

Then Alastor’s eyes lit up as if he just remembered something. He darted towards the other shopping bag he brought in. Of which, the contents were still unknown to Baxter. He fished some items out of it and promptly brought them to Baxter.

“Here, darl.” he said, handing him a cough medicine and a spoon. He probably got the spoon from the kitchens but Baxter wouldn’t put it past his partner that he’d bought it while out for this specific purpose “Take some of this. That’ll help, right?”

“You are good to me.” Baxter praised before breaking the reality to him, “But Medicine isn’t going to help me recover any faster. Especially not cough medicine. As good as it was of you to get it for me, the coughing I’m experiencing is actually helping me clear the infection. All I need are the painkillers and the Amoxicillin if I get worse.”

“Oh.” Alastor said disheartened, “I got you some stuff for your throat too. Would that help?”

“Oh yes. Definitely.” Baxter said immediately. Hoping the knowledge that Alastor had indeed got him something useful would make him feel better.

It did but sadly, only slightly. He went back to where the bag was and retrieved everything else he had gotten to help Baxter with his illness. Apparently, Alastor hadn’t been sure which brand of throat sweets would work the best, so he bought the lot. That would explain why Baxter now had a dozen different brands of sweets to choose from. He had also gotten him tea with honey and lemons to go with it.

“There was a lot of stuff labelled honey and lemon in packets but I figured the real stuff would work better.” Alastor explained.

“How thoughtful.” Molly complimented.

“He has been marvellous.” Baxter said, “You should see all the other things he got for me and what he made for me earlier.”

He then told Molly all about everything Alastor had done for him thus far. Molly found it all to be impressive and adorably sweet so he encouraged her to talk about it like mad. He thought all the compliments and praise would do Alastor’s esteem wonders but when he turned to his beloved partner, he was sorry to see that he looked just as uncertain and anxious as he had when he called Molly to come over.

“Alastor” he soothed, taking his partner’s hand, “I can see you’re still worried about me but there really is no need to be. If there was anything seriously wrong with me, Molly would know right away. I would know right away. I know I’m ill but I’m not suffering. I’m not even in that much pain and I am going to be better very soon. I’m going to be just fine.”

At last, Alastor was looking a little happier. He smiled for the first time since he found out Baxter was coughing up blood. But of course, Baxter had to go and mess it all up.

“In fact. From the way I’m feeling right now, I’m certain I will be able to go back to work tomorrow.”

Alastor looked at Baxter as if he was mad.

“Yeah.” Molly agreed with a smile, “If you get enough rest today, I don’t see why you can’t come back in tomorrow.”

But when Molly was unfortunate enough to get a glance at the look on Alastor’s face, she immediately rephrased herself. No hypnosis needed. His glare was more than enough to do the job.

“Or,” She said nervously, “if Bax is still ill then maybe, three days?

Alastor clung to Baxter and pulled him behind him as if he thought he was going to be snatched away at any moment. “Three days?” He cried out stupefied “He’s coughing up blood! He’s not going anywhere until that stops.”

“That might not be for another week, Alastor.” Baxter told him gently, “I can’t afford to take that much time off work.”

“You can’t help being ill, Baxter.” Alastor proclaimed, “Molly will just have to manage. You can manage, can’t you?”

“Yeah, but only for so long.” Molly said, “It’s been getting really busy lately, even more than usual. I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a slow day.”

“That’s because we’ve never had a slow day.” Baxter corrected, “At least not since the hotel took off anyway”.

“Exactly.” Molly said, “And I’m definitely going to need you over the weekend.”

“But of course.” Baxter said in empathy, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you to face the nightlife nightmare alone.”

“I think I’d rather risk life and limb trying to haul you away from Al.” she chuckled light-heartedly to herself before getting serious, “Seriously though, Al. It’s obvious seeing Baxter cough up blood scared you but he really his going to be fine. It’s likely that he’ll stop in a few days and then he’ll get better from there.”

Alastor didn’t answer. He just kept clinging on to Baxter

“I’ll tell you what.” Molly compromised, “I’ll let you take care of him for five days. In that time, you should start seeing improvements in his health. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it?”

“But Molly,” Baxter objected, “That’s not fair on you”.

Molly didn’t say anything back. She just looked at him and then at Alastor. Making him follow her eyes up to meet his partner’s. He saw how relieved and grateful Alastor looked and he couldn’t protest any further. He just wrapped his arms around him and mouthed at Molly, “Thank you.”

She gave him a warm smile in return and went on with her discussion with Alastor as if their interaction hadn’t happened. As if it was a secret between them.

“But after those five days, Al, I’m going to have to start fighting for him.”

“Good luck.” Alastor said to her jokingly.

“Thanks. I’ll need it.” she joked back.

It was good fun to see Alastor and Molly share a moment of silliness. But it crossed Baxter’s mind that there wasn’t much time left until Molly’s shift started. He wondered how much time there was to go. Apparently Molly wondered the same thing. Because in that exact same moment, she took a glance at Baxter’s alarm clock and jumped back when she read the time.

“And it’s half seven and I am nowhere near ready.” She said, making a swift exit, “Now I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you two later. Any problems call me.”

They all exchanged goodbyes and just like that, Molly was gone. When she shut the door behind her, the sound echoed through the room and then it suddenly became dead quiet. Now that it was just the two of them, the silence was overbearing to the point where Baxter started noticing sounds he never noticed. Like the water in the radiator or the breezy whirring of the electrics in his mini fridge. He felt like he should break the silence but he didn’t quite know how, and he guessed that Alastor had the same problem. Neither of them were sure of what to say to the other.

With their communication struggling, they found themselves returning to as they were when they were waiting for Molly to arrive. Alastor held Baxter as tight as he could without cutting off his air supply and rested his chin on Baxter’s shoulder. Baxter was too short to reach the top of Alastor’s shoulder, so he settled on leaning into his chest. Listening to his heart beat.

It was clear to Baxter that Alastor was still shaken up. He had to do something. His partner needed something that would make his fear go away. Or at the very least, distract him from it. He thought back to the events of this morning and remembered how happy Alastor was seeing him react to everything he had done for him. Of course. The other bag was still stuffed with purchases, it was a solution in plain sight.

“What else is in that bag you brought back?” He casually asked his lover.

“Nothing important.” Alastor said.  

“Oh, come on now.” Baxter insisted, “Everything you got for me today, you got to make my day as comfortable and pleasant as possible. That is important to me, Alastor. It shows me just how much you care.”

All Baxter got from Alastor in response was painful silence.

“Look. I really hope you don’t feel guilty for being out and getting me all these lovely things while a nasty symptom of my infection just so happened to pop up. I was fine.”

“You must have been frightened.” Alastor lamented, “And thanks to me, you were all alone, trapped and in the dark.”

“You didn’t know what was happening!” Baxter consoled, “And when it was happening, I knew you were just a phone call away. All I had to do was give you a call and you’d be there. But I chose not to because I wanted to spare you from stress. I thought that If I could keep you from knowing about the blood until Molly got here and could confirm that I was going to be alright, maybe you wouldn’t worry so. But it all went wrong and I just ended up making things worse, didn’t I?”

Alastor gripped Baxter by the shoulders and pushed him out of his embrace so that he could face him. He opened his mouth and strangled sounds of protest came out but no actual words formed. Baxter couldn’t possibly guess every word he was trying to say but clearly, he strongly disagreed with something Baxter had said.

“You don’t think I should be blaming myself, do you?” he guessed with confidence.

“No!” Alastor finally managed to blurt out.

“I don’t think this is a situation where either of us can be blamed.” Baxter addressed, “But all the same, I’ll try to be more honest with you from now on. If anything like this happens again, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

Baxter was ecstatic when he saw a small smile spread across Alastor’s face. At last he was getting somewhere with him.

“Alright.” he said giving Baxter a small kiss, “Wait here a moment.”

He went over to the remaining shopping bag and retrieved its contents.

“I’m afraid this one isn’t as exciting as the other one.” He said sheepishly, “It’s mostly just tea. I got you the ones I know you like and some I thought you might.”

Baxter hadn’t expected Alastor to be subtle here. Obviously not, subtlety was something Alastor just did not do. But he still managed to surprise Baxter when he saw him come back towards him with his arms loaded with god only knew how many different types of tea.

“Were there any you didn’t buy?” He laughed out of shock.

“Not really.” Alastor admitted with another small smile.

It was clear that Alastor’s little shopping trip had been made entirely with Baxter in mind. But Baxter suspected without an ounce of judgement his partner thought of himself just a little bit when he bought all this. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot at the thought of Alastor’s excitement upon discovering so many new varieties of tea to try. He would loved to have seen that for himself. Baxter may have liked tea quite a bit but Alastor adored it. 

Baxter spotted the ones he liked, classic, green and chamomile and again, he was flattered Alastor had remembered his favourites. But what really caught his eye were the ones he had bought for him to try. Jasmine, mint green, peppermint, green tea with pomegranate, gingerbread and even Bakewell tart. How on earth Alastor had managed to find a box of Bakewell tart flavoured tea, Baxter didn’t know.

“These all look fantastic.” he gave his partner some much needed praise, “I can’t drink too many hot drinks when I’ve got this infection but even so, I’m looking forward to trying all these. Thank you, darling.”

“I’ll make you a cup now, if you want.” Alastor offered.

“Thank you, Alastor. That would be lovely.” Baxter gratefully accepted, “Now then. Which one to try first? I feel like I should have the normal one with honey and lemon to help my throat but I’m curious to try the flavoured ones. Especially the;”

“Bakewell tart?” Alastor guessed.

“The Bakewell tart.” Baxter nodded.

“I got you some actual Bakewell tarts too.” Alastor announced retrieving two boxes of them from the bag, “And as a very special treat because you’re sick, don’t get used to it, I got you this.”

Baxter was then stunned when Alastor placed a pot of caramel coffee in his hand. It was a small pot, and instant but nevertheless;

“You got me coffee?” he marvelled, “Real coffee?”

He inspected the label and sure enough, it wasn’t decaf. 

“But you can’t stand me drinking coffee.” he said flabbergasted.

“I’m advised that one cup a day can’t harm you.” Alastor said, “But just because I bought you some, don’t think I’m going to let you go back to getting through four entire pots a day.”

“Never again, love.” he promised and meant every word.

“I hope so.” Alastor said, “How is your throat? Is it really hurting?”

“It is getting a bit difficult to swallow.” Baxter admitted, popping a cherry Soother into his mouth.

Alastor nodded in acknowledgement. “How about ordinary tea with honey and lemon for you, chamomile for me and we’ll share a cup of Bakewell. Just to try it?” he suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Baxter agreed.

Alastor had the teas made in the time it takes to boil a kettle and slice up a lemon. With a scalpel due to the lack of knives in the room.

While he did this, Baxter thought about opening one of the boxes of Bakewell tarts. But it just seemed odd to have them with the same thing in the form of flavoured tea. So, he opted to dig out some fruit and chocolate out of the first bag instead. Choosing the strawberries and the Turkish delight filled bar of Cadbury’s chocolate, knowing how much Alastor loved the stuff.

Alastor used the same tray he’d carried breakfast on to serve the teas and with the fruit and chocolate, it all looked wonderful. It should have been a happy moment for them both, when they were sitting together with tea and treats. But Alastor’s heart just wasn’t in it the way it was during breakfast or when he gave Baxter the first bag of things he had bought just for him. Alastor looked happier than he had a minute or two ago but Baxter could still see that something was on his mind. How he wished he knew what it was.

“Baxter?” Alastor suddenly spoke.

“Yes, Alastor?” Baxter immediately responded. Hopeful his wish was about to be granted.

"I want to apologise for earlier.” he proclaimed, “You had to comfort me back there when I should have been comforting you.”

“Oh, Alastor.” Baxter put his cup of tea down to give Alastor the hug he needed. “You’ve been comforting me all morning and how you reacted was perfectly understandable. Listen. I think I know why we both got so frightened. When you first saw me cough up blood, what was the first thing that came into your mind?”

“TB.” Alastor answered, “That’s what I thought of right away.”

“Yes, precisely!” Baxter said, “I didn’t admit it to myself at first but when I started coughing up blood, tuberculosis was on the back of my mind as well. Even though I knew I didn’t have it. I think that was because coughing up blood is a symptom associated with far worse illnesses than what I’ve got. That would have certainly been the case in your time and especially in mine. So, no wonder we immediately assumed the worst. It must be the reason why I jumped to conclusions. Despite having the medical knowledge to know better. And why, when you saw me coughing up blood, you;”

“Panicked.” Alastor finished for him.

Baxter nodded. “You reacted exactly the way I expected. And I expected you to react that way because I know how protective you are over me and;”

He averted eye contact with Alastor but blushed and smiled when he said,

“Because I know how much you love me.” 

Alastor’s cheeks turned redder than the strawberries. Then he finally smiled a genuinely warm and happy smile before tilting Baxter’s chin up for a kiss.

“That’s right.” Baxter beamed. Holding Alastor’s face in his hands and smoothing over the adorable dimples his smile created, “No more frowning now. It doesn’t suit you. Let’s start enjoying the day again. Starting with this unusual tea.”

He picked up the Bakewell tart tea and sampled it. Unfortunately, this was an action his taste buds would come to detest him for.

Baxter theorised that this tea existed for the same reason Alastor bought it. People like tea and they like Bakewell tarts, so why not put the two together? That sounds like a great idea. It was a good idea in theory but unfortunately, in practice Bakewell tart flavouring turned out to be the same as banana flavouring. In the sense that everything it touched instantly turned terrible. But course, Baxter was going to find a kinder way to word that to his partner.

“This is… um…. well.” he stammered, trying to find the right words to describe the taste. But Alastor took the tea from him and sampled it himself, saving him the bother.

“Disgusting.” Alastor spoke for him, “Way too sweet. Maybe, I shouldn’t have put sugar in it.”

“I don’t think leaving it out would have made much difference” Baxter said honestly, “Such a shame, if done right it could really work and Alastor,”

“I know. I know.” Alastor read him like an open book, “You appreciate that I got it anyway.” He looked away from Baxter for a moment before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Now Alastor’s demeanour as was perky and cheerful as it should be. But Baxter detected an aura of mischief around him as well.

He caught him stealing glances towards the bag all the tea was once in. Come to think of it, why did Alastor keep going back to it to retrieve things? Why hadn’t he simply brought the bag to Baxter, like he had the other one? And if it was empty, why hadn’t he thrown it away? Upon closer inspection, Baxter could see that it wasn’t.

“Baxter.” Alastor said.

“Yes.” Baxter answered suspiciously.

“I did get you one more thing.” His partner confessed.

Baxter took one look at the gleam in Alastor’s eyes and the smirk across his face and he knew exactly what was up.

“Oh lord.” Baxter smirked back and made no attempt to hide it, “I know that look. You’ve gotten something ludicrous for me to wear again, haven’t you?”

No words from Alastor were needed. It was obvious.

"Let’s see it.” Baxter mock sighed, “I’ve already seen the worst you’re taste gets. No matter what, it can’t possibly be any worse than the Christmas jumper you had made for me last year.”

“What was wrong with it?” Alastor played dumb, knowing full well with great amusement why Baxter refused to wear it in public.

"Alastor. It read, "Kiss me under the mistletoe and my lover will have your guts for tinsel.” And if that wasn’t bad enough, when I refused to wear it you had one made for yourself that had an arrow on it pointing to the left, which you always made sure was pointing to me, and it read, “Kiss him under the mistletoe and I’ll have your guts for tinsel.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” Alastor pretended to pout.

“Because you’re nuts. And if anyone saw me wear it, they’d have thought I was nuts too.”

"You still kept it.” 

“Well of course I kept it. You had it made for me. I couldn’t throw it away, even if it was of hideous taste”.

“You like it really.” Alastor cooed, “I know it as well as I know you’ll like this;” 

He brought the bag over to Baxter and pulled out a perfectly folded square of sapphire blue, plush fabric. He unfolded it in a single motion. Showing it off the way a magician would show off his magic and when Baxter saw what it was, he burst into peals of laughter.

"What is that?” he cackled uncontrollably.

“Something I thought would suit you very well.” Alastor said, smirk raised in anticipation for the banter they both knew was to come.

“You thought that would suit me? You must be joking. It looks like an adult sized pair of baby grows.”

It really did. All that was missing where the feet and a hood had been added instead. Apparently whoever designed the thing didn’t think it looked ridiculous enough.

“I am not wearing that.” Baxter giggled, “I’d look like a right prat.”

“You’d look adorable.” Alastor insisted.

“Like a baby.” Baxter argued playfully.

“No, like the cutest thing ever to bless this hotel with his presence.” Alastor said, brushing his finger along Baxter’s jawline and up to his cheek, “That you are but when I saw this, I knew it was just the thing to bring out that cuteness. And anyway, I bought it mainly because of its comfort. Feel how soft it is.”

Alastor rubbed the hood of the garment lightly against Baxter’s cheek and he could immediately see where Alastor was coming from. It had a fluffy texture, making it very, very soft. Yet the material was light, so Baxter wasn’t likely to overheat if he wore it. Although it looked absolutely stupid, Alastor couldn’t have chosen a better thing for a sick person to wear.

“Alright. You’ve convinced me to try it on. But,” Baxter said, giving Alastor a death glare and jabbing a finger into his chest “if you take a picture of me wearing it and post it onto social media, I. Will. End you.”

Alastor laughed and said, "Not to worry, darl. You in this little number will be strictly for my eyes only.”

Baxter rolled his eyes and huffed at Alastor but he couldn’t help smiling.

A little while later, the couple were cuddled up together in bed. Baxter wearing his gift from Alastor and Alastor wearing nightclothes of his own. Which since he slept here so often, Baxter always kept in his wardrobe for him. For some reason Alastor seemed insistent on keeping Baxter’s hood up. He hadn’t taken a picture of Baxter yet, he seemed to be far too busy cuddling him. He was probably waiting for him to fall asleep. That reminded Baxter.

“You really should get some sleep now, Alastor. You’ve been working all night”.

“I’ll fall asleep when you fall asleep.”

“That won’t be long, I can tell you. How am I suddenly this tired?”

“Because you’re ill and you’ve had no sleep.”

“Probably.” Baxter yawned, snuggling further into Alastor’s embrace. "You’ve been so good to me today, Alastor. So considerate and thoughtful, even this was a good idea.” he praised his partner, tugging at the fluffy blue mockery. “But as far as the others know, it doesn’t exist, and I have never worn it”.

Alastor chuckled and leaned further into Baxter’s touch. ‘Today’s been good so far, hasn’t it? And you wanted to go to work.”

“I must go to work tomorrow.” Baxter said, “I’ve caused enough bother just by staying in today.”

“You’ll go to work when you’re better and only when you’re better.” Alastor said firmly but with plenty of affection. 

Baxter was in no mood to argue. It just wasn’t the right mood to have an argument in general and besides, he was too tired for it. Funny how last night he couldn’t get to sleep no matter how hard he tried and now he was struggling to stay awake. Maybe it was the comfort of the blankets and the all in one pyjama thing or it was the added feeling of safety that came with being held by someone but he was fighting to keep his eyes open and slowly surrendering. In his hazy state of mind, he settled on the conclusion that it was both. Certainly both. He would try to convince Alastor to let him go to work tomorrow without any fuss. But secretly, he hoped he would stay just as stubborn and uncooperative as ever. He could spend the whole week like this.

[caffinatedconfusion]

Addiction

Noun

the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.

Addiction for me started at age 11. It started with being curious about being high on a substance. So I drank too much cough syrup on purpose. I acquired oxys at age 12 and got high on those for awhile. Shortly after oxy, I was taking Benadryl to get high. Age 13, I started smoking pot. Age 14 I began drinking. I begin smoking cigarettes when I was 18. At 19 y/o I tried MDMA and loved it. At 19 I also began doing cocaine. I continued smoking weed until early 2018 and I only quit because my job does random UA. I continued drinking and doing copious amounts of cocaine. I had a boyfriend who was also into drugs like coke, Molly and shrooms. He supported my bad habits. We broke up and I got my own place but the party never stopped. I was constantly drinking and driving. Blacking out or only remembering pieces of a night. It was embarrassing hearing the things I said and did the night before. But I continued the coke use for another 2 years and continued drinking for another 3. I was a fucking mess.

Almost two years ago I met my now husband, we’ll call him Johnny. We partied and drank and had a grand ol time. But the drinking never stopped for me. I couldn’t get enough. If I had one, I’d have 13. Bad day at work? Beer. Good day at work? Beer. Sunny day? In the hammock drinking beer. Rain, shine, good, bad. I was drinking. I even drank once while I was working. I couldn’t stop. But I thought “it’s fine I can stop when I want but I’m not a quitter”. It was not fine and I could not stop. Day after day I basically lived as a functioning alcoholic.

0330 am, April 11, 2021 I hit my rock bottom. I was driving home from the bar, tiny unrestrained dog in tote, rain slamming down on the windshield, drunker than a skunk, when I was struck on the rear driver side bumper. I ended up in a ditch and couldn’t get my car out. The cops were called, I was giving a field sobriety test and epically failed. I was placed in cuffs and taken to the precinct for booking. Luckily for me, it was still in the heavy Covid era and the jails were not taking DUIs. My car was towed, keys and phone inside. The cop brought me and my dog home after the incident. I now did not have a driver license, am burdened with legal fees, guilt, more depression and embarrassment.

Johnny thought I was trying to get sober and had no idea I was out at a bar that night. He was under the impression I was asleep in my bed. Luckily I had an iPad and was able to text someone to take me to the tow yard and get my car back. I had to tell Johnny what happened….. And let’s just say he was not a happy camper. I was given and ultimatum from Johnny. “It’s me or the alcohol. I will not stay around and watch you destroy your life. You will not take me down with you.”

I began going to AA. I put myself into an outpatient program. I started therapy and medications again. I didn’t walk down the liquor aisle at the store. It was not at all easy. I wanted the buzz. The rush. The fun. I lost a lot of people I thought were my friends. Turns out they only wanted to get drunk and party. Do you know how hard it is to be the sober friend when everyone else is hammered? I wanted to feel weightless and free, not have to worry about the stresses and anxieties of life.

The outpatient program changed my life. It helped me stay sober and I learned a lot about my self. I dug deep and found underlying emotions beneath the anger and depression. AA has been wonderful. Especially when I’m staring at the white claw on the shelves. I tell myself no and go home and hop on a zoom meeting.

It has been 1 year and 2 months.

1 year, 2 months sober. I’ve done a lot of learning about myself. I’ve relearned how to enjoy life without a substance to ease my boredom. I got on meds to level me out and help take some of the stress off of my mind during the transition period. I also began seeing my therapist bi-weekly. I progressed from trainee to LT in less than a year. Got married to the man of my dreams. We’ve been successful at communication and having the hard conversations. I’ve learned how to enjoy life without booze.

This is a war I’ll fight forever. Though I’m not longer in active addiction, I will always be an addict. Whether it be cocaine, mdma or alcohol, the sober life is the one I choose for myself, above all other reasons. If it wasn’t for Johnny and his ultimatum I would have never stopped drinking and changed my life for the better. He stuck it out during the rough times and told me the truth even when I didn’t want to hear it. I can never repay him for his role in my life and our relationship.

One day at a time.

Xoxo - DD

[cwartsy]

It's the Thought That Counts (Part Three: Most of it: I think I ran out of room)

While they waited for Molly, Baxter and Alastor sat huddled up together at the end of Baxter’s bed. Alastor had looked so unsure of himself since that phone call ended, he just sat by Baxter’s side and held him as if he didn’t know what else to do. It was worrying to see him like this and Baxter also found he that couldn’t of anything more he could do than hug his partner and hold him until Molly came.

Time seemed to pause in that moment and nothing existed to Baxter except for his poor, worried partner.

A knock at the door snapped them both back into reality. Alastor went to answer it and in came molly, still in her pyjamas and sporting quite an impressive bed head. The only thing indicating she was a medical professional was the stethoscope protruding slightly out of the open bag she must have hastily thrown it into.

“You should have phoned me, dumbass” Molly sighed to Baxter as he entered his room.

Baxter gave her a weak smile as Alastor went straight back to his side and resumed his dutiful position as Baxter’s cuddle dispenser. Molly looked at them as if they were a pair of snuggling puppies, which was pretty embarrassing for Baxter but nowhere near embarrassing enough to stop him from putting his arms around Alastor.

But of course, he had to let go so Molly could check him over properly, which he did with great reluctance.

Molly took his temperature, checked his breathing and the state of his throat, all of which were standard of a medical check-up for his illness but when she started checking his heartbeat and his pulse, he knew something was up. These things weren’t of any necessity and Molly was professional enough to know this. The only reason Baxter could think of for Molly’s sudden over thoroughness was that she was doing for show to make Alastor feel better. Baxter could not have been more thankful for Molly’s good thinking.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him

“Apart from the blood and tiredness not too bad.” He answered in total honesty.

“Did you get any sleep while I was gone?” Alastor cut in.

“I tried to” Baxter told him truthfully “But I had the same problems I did before and then when I started coughing up blood, I couldn’t get back to sleep at all.”

Baxter didn’t realise how thoughtless he had been saying that until he saw Alastor’s face. The poor thing looked pained with guilt.

“I could have phoned you at any time” Baxter reminded him “I just chose not to. Silly, wasn’t it?”.

“Yes, it was” Alastor said “I don’t know what to with you sometimes”.

“He’s a terrible patient, isn’t he?” commented Molly.

“The worst.” Alastor agreed.

“Hey now,” Baxter defended “I haven’t that bad today, have I?

“No” Alastor agreed with narrowed eyes “Not after I caught you sneaking off to work”. He shook his head and said to Molly, “He’d drop dead without me, I swear. He treats himself like a machine”

Hearing these words only added to the pang of guilt that kept stabbing at Baxter from inside his chest. He was still used to his decisions affecting himself and only himself. It never felt any better when he was reminded that wasn’t the case anymore. Cuddling up to Alastor once more was his way of saying sorry for his lack of consideration.

“Besides from coughing up blood, have you been experiencing any other new symptoms?” Molly asked.

“No, none at all” He answered.

“How are you on pain?” She asked him another question. It went without saying that this one was of great interest to Alastor.

“It’s come and gone but overall, it hasn’t been too bad” Baxter said “As of yet, I haven’t felt the need to take any medication.”

Molly seemed satisfied with the information she had gathered. “Everything seems to be normal, chest infection wise” She said in a conclusion that was much more aimed towards Alastor than it was Baxter as she reached for something in her bag.

“I think we can both agree that you’re not in a bad enough condition to need these, but I’ll leave them with you just in case you get worse.” She said to Baxter, handing him a box of pills, which as Baxter expected turned out to be amoxicillin 500mg

“That’s about all I can do for him” She said to Alastor “I’d say take care of him, but I know you will, and as for you” She turned to Baxter “Rest and let me know how you are tomorrow, I gotta get going”.

Baxter thanked her for everything and almost said goodbye but questioned the point. Even though she had done all she could and there was no more reason for her to be here, she probably wasn’t going right now, not if Alastor had anything to say about it. He looked at his partner. As he predicted, Alastor was appalled by the briefness of Molly’s visit.

“But what about the blood?” He protested. “Can’t we do anything about that?”

“That will clear up on its own, Alastor. Like everything else” Baxter told him gently.

“He’s right.” Molly confirmed “He’ll get better by himself, Al. You’ll see. ”

Alastor wasn’t entirely convinced “You said that medicine there is for if he gets worse but surely there’s something we can give him now?”

Then Alastor’s eyes light of as if he just remembered something, He darted towards to other shopping bag he brought in, of which the contents were still unknown to Baxter. He fished some items out of it and promptly brought them to Baxter.

“Here, darl” he said handing him a cough medicine and a spoon. He probably got the spoon from the kitchens, but Baxter wouldn’t put it past his partner that he’d bought it while out for this specific purpose “Take some of this, that’ll help, right?”

“You are good to me” Baxter praised before breaking the reality to him “But Medicine isn’t going to help me recover any faster. Especially not cough medicine. As good as it was of you to get it for me, the coughing I’m experiencing is actually helping me clear the infection. All I need are the painkillers and the Amoxicillin if I get worse.”

“Oh” Alastor said disheartened “I got you some stuff for your throat too, would that help?”

“Oh yes, definitely” Baxter said immediately, hoping the knowledge that Alastor had indeed got him something useful would make him feel better.

It did but sadly, only slightly. He went back to the where the bag was and retrieved everything else he had gotten to help Baxter with his illness. Apparently, Alastor hadn’t been sure which brand of throat sweets would work the best, so he bought the lot. That would explain why Baxter now had a dozen different brands of sweets to choose from. He’d also got him tea with honey and lemons to with it.

“There was lot of stuff labelled honey and lemon in packets, but I figured the real stuff would work better” Alastor explained.

“How thoughtful” Molly complimented.

“He has been marvellous” Baxter said “You should see all the other things he got for me and what he made for me earlier”.

He then told Molly all about everything Alastor had done for him thus far. Molly found it all to be impressive and adorably sweet and he encouraged her to talk about it like mad. He thought all the compliments the praise would do Alastor’s esteem wonders but when he turned to his beloved partner, he was sorry to see that he looked just as uncertain and anxious as he had when he called Molly to come over

“Alastor” he said soothed his partner, taking his hand “I can see you’re still worried about me but there really is no need to be. If there was anything seriously wrong with me, Molly would know right away. I would know right away. I know I’m ill but I’m not suffering, I’m not even in that much pain and I am going to better very soon. I’m going to be just fine.”

At last, Alastor, was looking a little happier. He smiled for the first time since he found out Baxter was coughing up blood. But of course, Baxter had to go and mess it all up.

“In fact, from the way I’m feeling right now, I’m certain I will be able to go back to work tomorrow.”

Alastor looked at Baxter as if he was mad.

“Yeah” Molly agreed with a smile “If you get enough rest today, I don’t see why you can’t come back in tomorrow”.

But when Molly was unfortunate enough get a glance at the look on Alastor’s face, she immedietly rephrased herself. No hypnosis needed, his glare was more than enough to do the job.

“Or” She said nervously if Bax is still ill then maybe, three days?

Alastor clung to Baxter and pulled him behind him as if he thought he was going to be snatched away at any moment “Three days?” He cried out stupefied “He’s coughing up blood! He’s not going anywhere until that stops.”

“That might, not be for another week, Alastor.” Baxter told him gently “Can’t afford to take that much time of work”

“You can’t help being ill, Baxter.” Alastor proclaimed “Molly will just have to manage. You can manage, can’t you?”

“Yeah, but only for so long” Molly Said “It’s been getting really busy lately, even more than usual. I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a slow day”.

“That’s because we’ve never had a slow day” Baxter corrected “Not once”.

"Exactly” Molly said “Am I’m definitely going to need you over the weekend”

“But of course,” Baxter said in empathy “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you to face the nightlife nightmare alone.”

“I think I’d rather risk my limbs trying to haul you away from Al” she chuckled light-heartedly to herself before getting serious “Seriously though All, it’s obvious seeing Baxter cough up blood scared you but he really his going to be fine. It’s likely that he’ll stop in a few days and then he’ll get better from there”

Alastor didn’t answer, he just kept clinging on to Baxter

“I’ll tell you what” Molly compromised, “I’ll let you take care of him for five days, in that time you should start seeing improvements in his health, that’ll make you feel better, won’t it?”

“But Molly,” Baxter objected “That’s not fair on you”.

Molly didn’t say anything back. She just looked at him and then at Alastor, making him follow her eyes up to meet his partner’s. He saw how relieved and grateful Alastor looked and he couldn’t protest any further. He just wrapped his arms around him and mouthed at Molly “Thank you”

She gave him a warm smile in return and went on with her discussion with Alastor as if their interaction hadn’t happened, as if it was a secret between them.

“But after those five days, Al, I’m going to have to start fighting for him”

“Good luck” Alastor said to her jokingly.

“Thanks. I’ll need it” she joked back.

It was good fun to see Alastor and Molly share a moment of silliness, but it crossed Baxter’s mind that there wasn’t much time left until Molly’s shift started. He wondered how much time there was to go. Apparently, Molly wondered the same thing because in that exact same moment, she took a glance at Baxter’s alarm clock and jumped back when she read the time.

“And, it’s half seven and I am nowhere near ready” She said, making a swift exit “now I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you two later. Any problems call me.”

They all exchanged goodbyes and just like that, Molly was gone. When she shut the door shut behind her, the sound echoed through the room and then suddenly, it became dead quiet. Now that it was just the two of them, the silence was overbearing to the point where Baxter started noticing sounds he never noticed like the water in the radiator or the breezy whirring of the electrics in his mini fridge. He felt like he should break the silence, but he didn’t quite know how and the guessed that Alastor had the same problem, neither of them were sure of what to say the other.

With their communication struggling, they found themselves returning to as they were when they were waiting for Molly to arrive. Alastor held Baxter as tight as he could without cutting of his air supply and rested his chin on Baxter’s shoulder. Baxter was too short to reach the top of Alastor’s shoulder, so he settled on leaning into his chest, listening to his heart beat.

It was clear to Baxter that Alastor was still shaken up. He had to do something. His partner needed something that would make his fear go away, or at the very least distract him from it. He thought back to the events of this morning and remembered how happy Alastor was seeing him react to everything he had done for him. Of course. The other bag was still stuffed with purchases, it was a solution was in plain sight.

“What else is in that bag you brought back?” He casually asked his lover.

“Nothing important” Alastor said  

“Oh, come on now” Baxter insisted “Everything you got for me today, you got to make my day as comfortable as pleasant as possible. That is important to me, Alastor. It shows me just how much you care.”

All Baxter got from Alastor in response was painful silence.

“Look, I really hope you don’t feel guilt for being out getting me all these lovely things while a nasty symptom of my infection just so happened to pop up. I was fine.”

“You must have been frightened” Alastor lamented “And thanks to me, you were all alone, trapped and in the dark”

“You didn’t know what was happening!” Baxter consoled “And when it was happening, I knew you were just a phone call away. All I had to do was give you a call and you’d be there, but I chose not to because I wanted to spare you from stress. I thought that If I could keep you from knowing about the blood until Molly got here and could confirm that I was going to be alright, maybe you wouldn’t worry so. But it all went wrong, and I just ended up making things worse, didn’t I?”

Alastor gripped Baxter by the shoulders and pushed him out of his embrace so that he could face him. He opened his mouth and strangled sounds of protest came out, but no actual words formed. Baxter couldn’t possibly guess every word he was trying to say but clearly, he strongly disagreed with something Baxter had said.

“You don’t think I should be blaming myself, do you?” he guessed with confidence.

“No!” Alastor finally managed to blurt out.

“I don’t think this is a situation where either of us can be blamed” Baxter addressed “But all the same, I’ll try to be more honest with you from now on. If anything like this happens again, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

Baxter was ecstatic when he saw a small smile spread across Alastor’s face. At last he was getting somewhere with him.

“Alright” he said giving Baxter a small kiss “Wait here, a moment.”

He went over to the remaining shopping bag and retrieved its contents.

"I’m afraid this one isn’t as exciting as the other one” He said sheepishly “It’s mostly just tea. I got you the ones I know you like and some I thought you might”.

Baxter hadn’t expected Alastor to be subtle here. obviously not, subtlety was something Alastor just did not do.  But he still managed to surprise Baxter when he saw him come back towards him with his arms loaded with god only knew how many different types of tea.

“Were there any you didn’t buy?” He laughed out of shock.

“Not really” Alastor admitted with another small smile.

Baxter spotted the ones he liked, classic, green and chamomile and again, he was flattered Alastor had remembered his favourites but what really caught his eye were the ones he had bought for him to try, jasmine, mint green, peppermint, green tea with pomegranate, gingerbread and even bakewell tart. How on earth Aalstor had managed to find a box of bakewell tart flavoured tea, Baxter didn’t know.

“These all look fantastic” he gave his partner some much needed praise. “I can’t drink too many hot drinks when I’ve got this infection but even so, I’m looking forward to trying all these. Thank you, darling”

“I’ll make you a cup now, if you want” Alastor offered.

“Thank you, Alastor. That would be lovely” Baxter gratefully accepted “Now then, which one to try first. I feel like should have the normal one with honey and lemon to help my throat but I’m curious to try the flavoured ones, especially the,

“Bakewell tart?” Alastor guessed

“The bakewell tart” Baxter nodded.

“I got you some actual bakewell tarts too” Alastor announced retrieving two boxes of them from the bag “And, as a very special treat because you’re sick, don’t get used to it, I got you this.”

Baxter was then stunned when Alastor placed a pot of caramel coffee in his hand. It was a small pot, and instant but nevertheless,

“You got me coffee?” he marvelled “Real coffee?”

He inspected the label and sure enough, it wasn’t decaf.

“But you can’t stand me drinking coffee” he said flabbergasted.

“I’m advised that one cup a day can’t harm you” Alastor said “But just because I bought you some, don’t think I’m going to let you go back to getting through an entire pot or two a day.”

“Never again, love” he promised and meant every word.

“I hope so.” Alastor said “How is your throat? Is it really hurting?”

“It is getting difficult to swallow” Baxter admitted, popping a cherry Soother into his mouth.

Alastor nodded in acknowledgement “How about ordinary tea with honey and lemon for you, chamomile for me and we’ll share a cup of bakewell, just to try it? He suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea to me’ Baxter agreed.

Alastor had the teas made in the time it takes to boil a kettle and slice up a lemon, with a scalpel due to the lack of knives in the room.

While he did this, Baxter thought about opening one of the boxes of bakewell tarts, but it just seemed odd to have them with the same thing in the form of flavoured tea. So, he opted to dig out some fruit and chocolate out of the first bag instead. Choosing the strawberries and the Turkish delight filled bar of Cadbury’s chocolate, knowing how much Alastor loved the stuff.

Alastor used the same tray he’d carried breakfast on to serve the teas and with the fruit and chocolate, it looked a wonderful. It should have been a happy moment for them both when they were sitting together with tea and treats but Alastor heart wasn’t in it the way it was during breakfast or when he gave Baxter the first bag of things he had bought just for him. Alastor looked happier than he had a minute or two ago, but Baxter could still see that something was on his mind. How he wished he knew what it was.

“Baxter?” Alastor suddenly spoke.

“Yes, Alastor?” Baxter immediately responded, hopeful his wish was about to be granted.

"I want to apologise for earlier” he proclaimed “You had to comfort me back there when I should have been comforting you”.

“Oh, Alastor” Baxter put his cup of tea down to give Alastor the hug he needed “You’ve been comforting me all morning and how you reacted perfectly understandable. Listen, I think I know why we both got so frightened. When you first saw me cough up blood, what was the first thing that came into your mind?”

“TB” Alastor answered “That’s what I thought of right away”.

“Yes, precisely!” Baxter said “I didn’t admit to myself at first but when I started coughing up blood, but tuberculosis was on the back of my mind as well. Even though I knew I didn’t have it. I think that was because, coughing up blood is a symptom associated with far worse illnesses than what I’ve got. That would have especially been the case in your time and mine. So, no wonder we immediately assumed the worst. It must be the reason why I jumped to conclusions, despite having the medical knowledge to know better and why, when you saw me coughing up blood, you,”

“Panicked.” Alastor finished for him.

Baxter nodded “You reacted exactly the way I expected, and I expected you to react that way because I know how protective you are over me, and,”

He averted eye contact with Alastor but blushed and smiled when he said,

“Because I know how much you love me”.

Alastor’s cheeks turned redder than the strawberries but he finally smiled a genuinely warm and happy smile before tilting Baxter’s chin up for a kiss.

“That’s right” Baxter beamed, holding Alastor’s face in his hands and smoothing over the adorable dimples his smile created “No more frowning, now. It doesn’t suit you. Let’s start enjoying the day again, starting with this unusual tea”

He picked up the bakewell tart tea and sampled it. Unfortunately, this was an action his taste buds would come to detest him for.

Baxter theorised that this tea existed for the same reason Alastor bought it. People like tea and they bakewell tarts, so why not put the two together? That sounds like a great idea. It was a good idea in theory but unfortunately, in practice bakewell tart flavouring turned out to be the same as banana flavouring, in the sense that everything it touched instantly turned terrible. But course, Baxter was going to find a kinder way to word that to his partner.

“This is… um…. well” he stammered, trying to find the right words to describe the taste but Alastor took the tea from him and sampled it himself, saving him the bother.

“Disgusting” Alastor spoke for him “Way too sweet. Maybe, I shouldn’t have put sugar in it”.

“I don’t think leaving it out would have made much difference” Baxter said honestly “Such a shame, if done right it could really work and Alastor,”

“I know, I know” Alastor read him like an open book “You appreciate that I got it anyway”. He looked away from Baxter for a moment before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Now, Alastor’s demeanour was perky and cheerful as it should be, but Baxter detected an aura of mischief around him as well.

He caught him stealing glances towards the bag all the tea was once in. Come to think of it, why did Alastor keep going back to it to retrieve things? Why hadn’t he simply brought the bag to Baxter, like he had the other one? And if it was empty, why hadn’t he thrown it away? Upon closer inspection, Baxter could see that it wasn’t.

“Baxter” Alastor said.

“Yes” Baxter answered suspiciously.

“I did get you one more thing.” His partner confessed.

Baxter took one look at the gleam in Alastor’s eyes and the smirk across his face, and he knew exactly what was up.

“Oh lord.” Baxter smirked back and made no attempt to hide it “I know that look. You’ve gotten something ludicrous for me to wear again, haven’t you?”

No words from Alastor were needed, it was obvious.

"Let’s see it” Baxter mock sighed “I’ve already seen the worst you’re taste gets. No matter what, it can’t possibly get any worse than the Christmas jumper you had made for me last year.”

“What was wrong with it?” Alastor played dumb, knowing full well with great amusement why Baxter refused to wear it in public.

"Alastor. It read, "kiss him under the mistletoe and I’ll have your guts for tinsel”.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that” Alastor pretended to pout.

“Because you’re nuts and if anyone saw me wear it, they’d have thought I was nuts too.”

"You still kept it”.

“Well of course I kept it, you had it made for me. I couldn’t throw it away, even it was of hideous taste”.

“You like it really” Alastor cooed “I know it as well as I know you’ll like this” He brought the bag over to Baxter and pulled out a perfectly folded square of plush sapphire blue fabric. He unfolded it in a single and motion, showing it off the way, a magician would show of his magic and when Baxter saw what his was, he burst into peals of laughter.

"What is that?” he cackled uncontrollably.

“Something I thought would suit you very well” Alastor said, smirk raised in anticipation for the banter they both knew was to come.

“You thought that would suit me? You must be joking, it looks like an adult sized pair of baby grows”

It really did. All that was missing where the feet and a hood had been added instead, apparently because whoever designed the thing didn’t think it looked ridiculous enough.

“I am not wearing that” Baxter giggled, “I’d look like a right prat”

“You’d look adorable” Alastor insisted.

“Like a baby” augured playfully.

“No, like the cutest thing ever to bless this hotel with his presence” Alastor said, brushing his finger along Baxter’s jawline and up to his cheek “That, you are but when I saw this, I knew it was just the thing to bring out that cuteness. And anyway, I bought it mainly because of its comfort. Feel how soft it is.”

Alastor rubbed the hood of the garment lightly against Baxter’s cheek and he could immediately see where Alastor was coming from. It had a fluffy texture, making very, very soft yet the material was light, so Baxter wasn’t likely to overheat if he wore it. Although looked absolutely stupid, Alastor couldn’t have chosen a better thing for a sick person to wear.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me to try it on. But,” Baxter said, giving Alastor a death glare and jabbing a finger into his chest “If you take a picture of me wearing it and post it onto social media, I, will, end you.”

Alastor laughed and said "Not to worry, darl. You in this little number will be strictly for my eyes only”

Baxter rolled his eyes and huffed at Alastor but he couldn’t help smiling.

A little while later, the couple were cuddled up together in bed, Baxter wearing his gift from Alastor and Alastor wearing nightclothes of his own, which since he slept here so often, Baxter always kept in his wardrobe for him. For some reason Alastor seemed insistent on keeping Baxter’s hood up. He hadn’t taken a picture of Baxter yet, he seemed to be far too busy cuddling him. He was probably waiting for him to fall asleep. That reminded Baxter.

“You really should get some now Alastor, you’ve been working all night”.

“I’ll fall asleep when you fall asleep”

That won’t be long, I can tell you. How am I suddenly this tired?

“Because you’re ill and you’ve had no sleep”

“Probably” Baxter yawned, snuggling further into Alastor’s embrace "You’ve been so good to me today, Alastor.” So considerate and thoughtful, even this was a good idea” he praised his partner tugging at fluffy blue mockery “But as far as the others know, it doesn’t exist, and I have never worn it”.

Alastor chuckled and leaned further into Baxter’s touch ‘Today’s been good so, far hasn’t it? And you wanted to go to work”

“I must go to work tomorrow” Baxter said, “I’ve caused enough bother just by staying in today”

“You’ll go to work when you’re better and only when you’re better” Alastor said firmly but with plenty of affection.

[geekmama]

Resolved

Chapter 3: Age of Discoveries

Within a few weeks, Mrs. Molly Holmes’ presence at Madame Celeste’s became an accepted thing by all concerned, except by her husband, of course, who knew nothing about it.

His guilty but enthralled wife went at least twice a week to the brothel, along with her adviser, of course, though that worthy was persuaded to allow Molly a great deal of time on her own through the simple expedient of flattery on the part of Madame Celeste’s housekeeper, a woman whose sense of humor and devotion to Madame allowed her to carry out this subterfuge in fine style. The adviser, Miss Pringle, would be asked humbly to give her opinion of various aspects of the house’s environment and on the health and welfare of the serving staff, which was numerous. That the housekeeper and serving staff were, to a man, laughing at her behind her back -- for the house was run like clockwork and the serving staff well cared for and very well paid -- Miss Pringle never suspected. 

It had all been arranged on Molly’s very first visit to the establishment. Madame Celeste, having been introduced and immediately realizing exactly who this young medical student was, and, more importantly, who her husband was, contrived to see Molly alone in her office, ostensibly to consult her about a chronic skin condition that manifested in a most delicate area and had baffled every doctor the woman had consulted. This was no more than the truth (“Lies can complicate things quite wretchedly, my dear Mrs. Holmes, and quite unnecessarily”), but though an examination was carried out, that was not Celeste’s goal in meeting with the wife of Sherlock Holmes. She seemed sincerely interested in what Molly had to blushingly relate about their wedding night and their subsequent weeks in Italy, and Celeste laughed when Molly told her how Sherlock had reneged on his promise to allow her to visit the brothel in disguise.

“I am not surprised in the least. Not content with wedding an unschooled virgin, once a gentleman of the higher orders has tied the knot he props his wife on a pedestal and presumes she has no more interest in sexual matters than the innocent he married. And then, when he grows dissatisfied at home, he comes to us. I’ve seen it time and again.”

Molly’s dismay was so plain on her face at this that Madame said, quickly, “No, no, my dear, that won’t happen to you! We’ll make certain of that.” And then and there, Madame began advising Molly in some of the ways in which a gentleman’s pleasure might be increased. “But you must implement any changes in your behavior with the greatest caution, since your husband was unwilling to allow you even to visit here, much less take instruction. Foolish, but there it is. He must believe these tricks and practices sprang from your own imagination. So nothing too startling at first. Later, when he grows more accustomed to your innovations, you can allow yourself to be more adventurous.”

“This is so kind of you!” exclaimed Molly, “and it makes me very proud to know that you hold Sherlock in such great esteem!”

Celeste laughed again. “You should be proud, but… well, your husband seemed an odd sort, very aloof to my girls’ blandishments, all business except on that one occasion when he came here to receive instruction on your behalf. It piqued me, cool and handsome and condescending as he was. I tell you, Mrs. Holmes, to know that he is being entirely undone several nights a week by his innocent little wife, thanks to our tutelage, will give me more satisfaction than I can easily convey.”

Molly suspected that Celeste was also pleased at the notion that the wife of Sherlock’s bosom would be deceiving him, even if it was only by a sin of omission, but after that first visit, Molly was fairly caught. The things she learned from Madame Celeste and from some of the other girls were both titillating and to the point, and as she began over the weeks to employ them in the bedroom, she could not help but notice how greatly her dear husband was affected, and how loving were his glances at all other times.

 *

 One afternoon in the middle of October, Molly had come alone to visit Madame Celeste and was trotting up the back stairs of the house with a vial of the precious unguent she’d discovered that actually eased Madame’s skin condition. She’d come twice before by herself for this purpose, always using the servant’s entrance, and Madame had been most grateful, though she cautioned Molly to be extremely careful that she was not observed.

“The trustees at your school wouldn’t like you coming here unaccompanied by your advisor, and your husband would likely take a dim view of such behavior as well. I don’t wish to incur his antipathy.”

But Molly had promised to be careful, and the unguent she’d brought (purchased from a Chinese doctor in Limehouse, near the Magdalene Hospital,  if Madame had but known) proved so soothing and beneficial to the woman that she actually paid Molly considerably more than its actual cost. “For I cannot imagine that your husband gives you anything more than pin money, and moreover, if you will take my advice on financial matters as you are wont to do regarding those of the bedroom, you should open your own bank account and add to it as you can, in case of a rainy day.”

Molly, whose “pin money” from Sherlock consisted of a very generous quarterly allowance, and already feeling enough guilt over deceiving him, did not elect to take this advice, though she did find a hiding place for her profits in their bedroom, a shoebox at the back of the wardrobe containing some elegant pumps that unfortunately tended to pinch and that she would likely never wear again, though they were too pretty to easily give away.

She was acquiring a nice little nest egg, thanks to Madame Celeste’s stubborn malady, and it was with happy anticipation of adding to it that she ascended the stairs, heading toward Madame’s office on the second floor. However, once she reached the first floor landing, she came upon a most disturbing sight: a lovely young woman, no more than a girl really, whose name, Molly knew, was Lucinda.

Lucinda’s face was much tear-stained, her mouth was set in a tragic line, and when she saw Molly she gasped, exclaimed, “Oh! Oh!” and burst into renewed sobs, burying her face in a large handkerchief.

“Lucinda!” Molly cried. “What is wrong? Are you unwell?” For every other time she had seen Lucinda she had been aglow with unabashed happiness, a somewhat unusual state for one of Madame Celeste’s working girls who, young as some of them were, tended to adopt a wry cynicism early on in their careers.

“No! I… Oh, ma’am… read this! ” And Lucinda handed Molly a rather damp and somewhat crushed letter.

Molly smoothed it carefully and read: 

 My Darling Lucinda,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this missive, one that contains news that I know will be difficult  for you to bear. My father has discovered our affaire du coeur . I have met with him, perforce, and he has given me to understand that he will disinherit me entirely if I continue to frequent Madame Celeste’s or any other house of ill-repute. My intention of offering you marriage he treated with the utmost contempt, telling me that I must decide for myself whether you would be willing to live with a man with no expectations and no prospects (since my poetry, though I know you hold it in high regard,  is unlikely to earn me a living wage) and whether it would be right even to offer you such a life.

I have to admit that the answer that groaned within my breast was “No.”

My heart of hearts, it grieves me more than I can say to tell you we must part, and that I pray you will quickly find happiness with some other man. I myself will doubtless live out my life as a bachelor, for I cannot conceive of any woman who could take your place in my affections, and I will not marry for position or for filthy lucre, no matter what my father says. I beg you will find it in your tender heart to forgive me, and will sometimes allow your thoughts to touch upon the hours of bliss we have experienced during this idyll, ill-fated as it has been.

I am, and ever will be, your own,

Bertram

 Molly, having read the letter, looked up at Lucinda in horror and sympathy.

Lucinda said, “My life is over!” and gave a hitching sob, her tears overflowing once more.

Molly put her arm about the girl. “Lucinda, you must not say such a thing!”

“Oh, Mrs. Holmes, you do not understand. I… I am not like the other girls here. I have only been here since August, and my Bertram was the only man I… I ever…”

“The only one to have bedded you?” Molly asked, surprised. “How is this? Were you a maiden when he first came to you?”

Lucinda nodded, and pressed the handkerchief to her trembling lips.

Molly said, “If you please, tell me how it all happened. I always thought that perhaps you were of genteel birth, and now…”

“I was,” said Lucinda. “My father is a clergyman in… in the north of England, a most God-fearing man, but… well.... My dear mother died two years ago. It was a dreadful time, and I… I cannot but believe it turned my father’s intellects somewhat, for though he had never been warm, he became far worse, almost a recluse, except on Sundays, and when parish business arose. And… well… I look a great deal as my mother did in her youth. Many of the townspeople remarked on it. My father seemed almost to resent that, and as the months passed, he kept me more and more restricted to home.  But there was one young man, the son of the local blacksmith, who would come and do work on our property, and… he had a fondness for me. One day, we were both in the orchard behind the house and he… stole a kiss. It was nothing, truly! But my father witnessed it, and he was… oh, dreadfully angry. He sent the young man away, telling him never to return. And then… oh ma’am! He... he cut a switch from one of the trees and took me in the house and… and...” Her voice trailed off and she had grown very pale, quite overcome at the memory.

“Oh, Lucinda!” Molly breathed, horrified.

But then Lucinda looked at Molly, her face set. “I ran away. I put on my best clothes, stole all the money from the poor box in the chapel where I had gone to church every Sunday of my life, and I ran away to… to the nearest town and bought a ticket for the train to London. There had been an advertisement in the Times, for work as a lady’s companion, and I was determined I should apply for the post. And I did, too… but they thought me too young, though I had turned seventeen. That was last July. I tried then to find other work in service, through an agency, but it seems it’s very difficult when one has no references -- and not much experience. We had a housekeeper at home, you see, and a girl to help her, and then there was Cook. I am afraid I didn’t learn much about domestic work or… or anything useful.” Lucinda fell into dejection at this, snuffled, and then blew her straight little nose with the damp handkerchief.

“But how did you end up here? And with Bertram?”

Lucinda smiled slightly. “I was nearly out of funds entirely -- London is so very expensive a place to live -- but then Sally Ripple befriended me.”

“Sally?” said Molly, frowning. “You mean that little dark-haired girl who seems so lively?”

“She is lively, and I still believe she has a good heart. She’s Madame’s favorite of the younger girls. She saw that I was close to despair, and at wit’s end trying to think what to do. She brought me here. Madame said she had a surfeit of servants and needed no more, but if I wished to become… well. I resisted for two weeks. And then, one night, I saw Bertram and… and fell in love. And I told Madame I would have him.”

“Did he know you were…” Molly hesitated, fascinated and appalled.

“Oh, yes. He had to pay a great deal, I believe, for… for my maidenhood. But he loved me. I know he did. From that very first time. And I saw him many times after that over these last two months. I knew he would rescue me from this life. I knew it, though the other girls… they weren’t as certain. But they did encourage me to hope. Only Madame laughed at the notion. And it seems… she was correct.” Lucinda sniffed again, and wiped her eyes.

“What will you do now?” Molly asked, quietly.

“Madame still maintains she needs no additional servants. But… I can’t. I can’t give myself to any other man. I won’t. I won’t! ”

Molly put her arm about the girl’s shoulders. “No. There must be some other way. Lucinda, will you stay here until I speak with Madame Celeste? I am here to deliver the medicinal unguent she has found so beneficial and I know she will listen to me.”

“But... what will you tell her?”

“Well… if you had the chance to become a kitchen maid in a… a somewhat strange but quite genteel home, would you leave this place?”

Lucinda stared, and breathed, “Oh, ma’am. Do you mean--”

“Wait here!” Molly commanded imperiously, eyes glinting, and an impish smile on her lips.

 *

 “Alphonse!”

Alphonse turned from the cutting board where he had been creating a mountain of perfectly julienned root vegetables which he would presently braise with butter and herbs and salt and pepper and just half a clove of garlic so as not to overwhelm the delicate flavors of the-- but here he stopped his musings to stare at the not one but two women before him. Or woman and girl. Though the stranger, the girl, was several inches taller than his mistress, and built on queenly lines, very pretty in an English Rose sort of way, and she was obviously very young -- not even of age, if Alphonse was any judge (and he was).

“Madame?” he asked, the question in his voice and disapprobation in his eye.

“Alphonse, you will forgive me for interrupting you at a crucial point in your preparations--”

“All moments are crucial,” Alphonse said in baleful tones.

“Yes, so you have given us to understand,” said Mrs. Holmes, with a somewhat humorous sidelong glance at the girl.

The girl did not notice, however, but looked upon Alphonse with awe and some trepidation, as was certainly appropriate.

But Mrs. Holmes continued, “In any case, you have been hinting for some time that you need an assistant--”

“An escuelerie.”

“Precisely. Though I do hope you will deign to teach Lucinda some of your cooking skills, if she shows the aptitude for it.”

Alphonse stared, first at Molly Holmes, then at… Lucinda. He said, “This?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Holmes.

“This is not a boy. What will I do with a female? They do not belong in the kitchen.”

“Oh, rubbish!” exclaimed Mrs. Holmes, a stubborn glint in her eye. “Lucinda will be more than equal to any task you may set for her. Is that not so, Lucinda?”

“Oh… oh, yes, ma’am. Only… if Monsieur doesn’t want--”

“I don’t,” stated Alphonse, and prepared to turn away.

“I will give you a raise in pay,” Mrs. Holmes stated.

Alphonse considered this, as well as her determination. “How much?”

“Two pounds a month.”

“Five,” said Alphonse.

“Three and that’s my final offer. Otherwise you will accept her, with only a good grace and no increase in pay at all.”

Alphonse drew himself up and glared at the mistress of the house, but it had little effect. She had been coming into her own these last two months since her return from Italy. Her husband flitted about London in a daze of lingering bliss, and no wonder. She was a force to be reckoned with, his lovely, kind, and energetic young mistress.

Alphonse bowed slightly. “Three, then.” He looked at Lucinda and jerked his chin in the direction of the sink. “Put on an apron and get to work.”

Mrs. Holmes gave him a glowing smile in thanks.

 *

 Lucinda settled in quite happily at 221B Baker Street. Wary of Alphonse, at first, she soon grew used to his gruff ways, worked hard to please him, and began to pick up bits and pieces of culinary knowledge. There was much more to cooking than she’d ever supposed when she was growing up in quiet, conservative Yorkshire, and she found it exciting and immensely satisfying when she achieved any success -- and to receive a nod of approval from Alphonse made her quite giddy.

Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Holmes, the famous consulting detective, each gave her a nod of approval when Molly first introduced her to them (“... one of the girls I came to know through my community service -- and Alphonse has been complaining he needed help …”) but otherwise barely acknowledged her existence. Young Archie was friendlier, but was so wary of Alphonse that she rarely saw him since she spent all her time in Alphonse’s kingdom.

Or nearly all. After a week, Alphonse had allowed her to serve some of the dishes he so lovingly prepared (and it was love, he had the greatest admiration for his employers and went to great lengths to please them). And it wasn’t more than a few days later before she was delivering all of them to the table, since Alphonse preferred to lurk ominously in his particular domain.

It was this new task that finally revealed to her, and to her mistress, the true state of affairs. One morning, a Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, Mrs. Hudson, and Archie were sitting round the breakfast table, and Lucinda was carrying in a tray with a dish of kedgeree upon it, the smell of the haddock, eggs, and spices wafting up to her. Her stomach had been a little delicate lately, but now it revolted entirely. She quickly set the dish on the table and hurried from the room.

But her distress had not gone entirely unnoticed. Mrs. Holmes came looking for her, and found her in the tiny back garden, vomiting into one of the flowerbeds.

“Lucinda!” said the kind, worried voice, gently rubbing her back. “You are ill! Why didn’t you let us know? You should be abed.”

Lucinda carefully wiped her mouth with the edge of her apron and then reluctantly turned to her mistress. “No, I am not ill. Not like that. Oh, Mrs. Holmes…” Her voice trailed off in utter despair.

And Mrs. Holmes gasped, suddenly realizing what was amiss. “You are with child!” she said, almost whispering the words.

Lucinda nodded, and her eyes filled with tears.

[revisionaryhistory]

It’s All Art ~ 62

Normal was the word to describe Oscar and Charlotte’s life for a while. Normal for them anyway. Oscar’s filming schedule was ever changing. In his off time he spent time with Charlotte and friends. Charlotte kept herself busy with visiting Oscar on set, time with friends and family, and her photography doing commercial work around London along with her creative endeavors.

 Charlotte was relaxing on the sofa waiting for Oscar to come back from changing. He arrived home a few minutes ago and the couple were planning a non-eventful night of staying in. Charlotte poured them glasses of wine while he tossed off the day. Her text notification went off and she opened her laptop to access the link.

 Oscar sat next to her, running his hand down her leg as a hello. Touching her was one of his favorite things. The warmth of her skin never failed to make him smile. There was a 50/50 split between relaxed and excited, but that could change with nothing more than her smile. He found it ironic that it was often her sweetest smile that heated his blood the quickest. He glared at her, “I thought we were in no work mode.”

 “We are.” She kissed him tenderly. “The video of our second date is going live tomorrow. They sent me the link. I thought we might enjoy.”

 Oscar’s eyes flared with excitement. “Oh yeah!” He took a drink of his wine, “This oughta be interesting.”

 The video began with quickly spliced shots of prep. Clothes being brought in, setting up the space, and Charlotte readying equipment. Oscar arrived and his greeting everyone was shown before getting to work. A video was shown before each published photo zoomed into frame without outtakes at the edges. His interactions were captured perfectly. The teasing with Molly as she styled him, joking with set dressers, and his obvious attraction to Charlotte. The conversation about her “Who talked first?” shirt was there. Her clearing the room as he disrobed and her reaction when he dropped the robe too. They put a black stripe saying “CENSORED” over his naked ass and the pink cock sock. They sped up the multiple takes of him pulling up his pants. His smile and the mischief in his eyes as Charlotte adjusted the blanket covering his ass, messing up his hair so he looked sleep rumbled, his exasperation with pulling up his pants, and the offhand comment about feeling dirty as he got in the shower gave away his interest in his photographer. Charlotte’s response with eye rolls, innocent smiles, and laughter weren’t exactly subtle. The video was clearly edited to play up their flirty interaction.

 When the video ended Charlotte huffed out a breath, “That wasn’t very professional.”

 Oscar shrugged, “It was our second date.”

 Her eyebrows lifted with her smile, “And I got to check out the goods before I committed.”

 “That’s unfair.”

 “My dress at the gallery opening left little to the imagination.”

 Oscar smiled, closing his eyes to bring up the visual. “I don’t know if I was more mesmerized by your skin visible through the hole or seeing your hair down.” He reached over to pull his fingers through the strands. “You looks so beautiful and smelled amazing.”

 “You were very handsome. And gallant.”

 He smiled and met her for a kiss, “I would…” he stopped to reconsider the verb tense, “I will never leave you.”

 Charlotte lay her hand on his face, “I don’t doubt you.”

 “Or I you.” He nodded to the laptop, “You can get a copy of that right?” She nodded. “I like watching us flirt before we were an us.”

 Charlotte met him on set for lunch the next day. Daisy joined the table and immediately apologized to Oscar, “I’m sorry. I remember telling you that you didn’t get to count the photo shoots as dating.” She cut her eyes between the couple. “You were dating.”

 “Ha!” Oscar smiled smugly, “I told you.”

 Daisy turned her attention to Charlotte, “You’ve done a good job responding.”

 “Thanks.” Charlotte read the questions in Oscar’s eyes. “I’ve replied to a few things on twitter. Clarifying that was the second time we’d met. Joking a bit with comments about the flirting. Confirming that we did have as much fun as it looked. Also, that you really are that incredible.”

 “And fit,” Daisy added.

 Charlotte laughed, “I did say that. A lot of interest in the uncensored version.”

 “Negatives?” Oscar was more concerned with things said that might upset her.

 “Some, but nothing horrible.” She could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “I only read a few things. Random comment about me using you to get famous. Expected. Someone said I wasn’t pretty enough for you, which I’m confident you disagree. And that you were having a midlife crisis and I was a young thing to boost your ego. I mean, we know that’s true, but it’s unkind to say.”  That made him laugh. “I promise, I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse.” She knew he’d understand the reference, but he went another way.

 “So are you ever going to tell me what Esme said to you?”

 “I hoped you’d forgotten.”

 “Not hardly. Memory like an elephant.” Oscar tapped his temple.

 Adam couldn’t miss an opportunity, “You’ve got the nose for it.”

 “Who the hell are you to talk?” Oscar threw back.

 “You have a dent that looks more like a trunk.”

 “Oh,” Charlotte hooked Oscar around the neck, pulling him close and kissing the dent in his nose, “I love the dent.”

 He glared at Adam, “You’re helping her create a diversion.” He turned back to Charlotte, “No time like the present.”

 “Not here.”

 “I don’t care.”

 “Yes, you do.”

 Something about the serious look on Charlotte’s face made Oscar’s blood run cold. He wasn’t sure if she was referring to what Esme said or his reaction. Either way, he shut up.

 Charlotte headed back to the hotel before Oscar was done for the day. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He was sure that he wasn’t dropping the topic. The ride home he was rehearsing in his head how to broach the subject. He was met at the door by her slowing wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him. Her body pressed tighter to him as the kiss deepened. When she left his lips she kissed over to his ear, “Give me your phone.”

 Oscar leaned back where he could see her, “Why?”

 She stayed close, her arms still around his neck, “Because you’re reactive. You’ll get pissed and make phone calls or send angry texts. I’d like you not to as I handled the situation.”

 He laughed and threw his head back, “You have me figured out.”

 “It’s a good and bad quality.” She took a step back and held out her hand, “Phone.”

 Oscar handed it over before taking her hand and leading her to the couch, “I’m worried.”

 “No need, my love. Not a big deal, but you’ll be angry with her.”

 “That’s what Nicole said.”

 “Yes, she told me she wouldn’t tell you. I like her.”

 “She likes you too and she has never liked anyone I’ve dated. Hated Emma.” He kissed her hand, “Stalling.”

 “I really wish you’d leave it alone, but I know you won’t.” She returned the kiss on his hand before dropping them to his leg. “She asked about where we met then asked me if I was worried about you filming across the ocean from me.” She kept going without a pause. “Said I should be because you’d cheated on Emma.”

 “It’s good that you took my phone. I want it back.” He was livid. The reasons were numerous.

 “Not until you let me finish.” She waited until he nodded his agreement. “I can’t remember word for word. I told her that since you and Emma had moved past, she should too. Emma looked mortified. I said I wasn’t sure if she was trying to embarrass you in front of me and Nicole or stir up drama between us, assuring her she wouldn’t and we’d already talked of this. I told her I was going to assume her behavior was due to grief and not just being mean and spiteful, because everyone in the family had been wonderful, so I knew she was brought up better.”

 Oscar started laughing, “Damn.”

 “I apologized to Emma for how uncomfortable she appeared and wished her luck with the baby. Told Esme I was sorry for her loss. Then I came over and pissed on your leg.”

 Oscar grabbed her face and kissed her, “I am proud of you.” He remembered Nicole saying he would be. She’d stood up for him and very nicely put Esme in her place. His heart swelled. “She was just being a bitch, you know.”

 “I believe you, but getting pissy and calling her a bitch wouldn’t have served a purpose.” She shrugged, “I’ve dealt with worse bullies.”

 “Matt told me about the girls in twelfth year.”

 “Them and the whole Jasper Uni thing.”

 He cringed, “Wasn’t thinking about that.”

 “Yeah, but it’s the same idea. I kicked myself endlessly for letting them bully me. I realize getting hit with dating a married man, threats to my degree, future, and family was a bit overwhelming, but I just sat there letting them fuck me up the ass. I’d never not fought back in my life and I swore I’d never do again, no matter how taken aback I was. And with Esme I knew exactly where she was going when she asked if I was worried about you being away from me. If I’m honest I was most concerned she’d just dropped a bomb on Nicole.” She hissed in a breath, “Eric told me she knew.”

 He nodded, “Fucking everybody in Miami knew. Emma was pretty pissed. Understandably. Esme covered anyone Emma missed.”

 “Sorry.”

 “Like you said, Emma and I have moved past.”  He threaded his fingers through her hair, “I’m sorry you had to deal with her. All of it.” He felt a sliver of old guilt slicing into his consciousness. One bad decision that was impacting Charlotte fifteen years later.

 Charlotte grabbed his ears and shook his head, “Don’t you do that, Oscar. Feel guilty.”

 “How do you know that’s what I was doing?” He smiled to cover.

 “Great actor on film, shit in person.”

 Oscar took her hands in his, “No, just shit at hiding things from you.”

[boleynns]

A HUGE Timeline of Proof: Culverton, Eurus, and Mary are Working Together for Moriarty

A 21 point timeline of events that proves that they are all connected, this is a plan, and they are all huge assholes. Putting under a cut once I entice you with the first 3 points:

1. Sent by Culverton to the world (who has the money and the power to implant this message across the media):

2. Lady in Red (a.k.a. Eurus) entices John to text-flirt with her, ensuring his guilt when Mary dies, and therefore both ensuring that he will get a new therapist (a.k.a. HER), and knowing that John will blame Sherlock because she knows “Mary” will jump in front of a bullet for him.

3. Mary gets shot by Norbury - who she’s worked with before - and dies. Her last words to Sherlock are to say “I think we’re even now”, casting the reminder that she’s literally dying for him into his and John’s minds, but also “lolol im fucking ruining your life yOU IDIOT”.

4. Her last words to John? “You were my whole world. Being Mary Watson was the only life worth living. Thank you.” Because how do you make John Watson explode with guilt??? because you know he was “cheating” because you KNOW Eurus and that was the plan - so you tell him he was the best most amaizing thing ever and then you die in front of him.

5. Sent by Mary - a possible, and sad option, for the delivery was via Mrs. Hudson (as Mrs. Hudson gave the envelope to Sherlock initially, brought it to everyones’ attention again when Mycroft was searching the apartment, and then popped it in pretending to have never watched it before even though she had seen it with Sherlock before).

6. Mary’s “Save John Watson” video itself - in which she not-so-subtley-suggests, in the case of her death, that John will obviously blame him for (a.k.a. she knows for a fact that John will blame Sherlock for BECAUSE SHE FUCKING DIED ON PURPOSE and literally said “We’re even now” to Sherlock), Sherlock should tweak out on drugs and chase down the biggest, baddest villain he can find. WONDER WHO???

7. Sherlock starts on that by getting high.

8. Then “Faith” shows up, knowing of “Mary’s” ‘MISS ME?’ message, knowing Sherlock is already SUPER high on drugs, brings Sherlock a case that fits perfectly with “Mary’s” advice. A case impersonating Culverton’s daughter, who gave her the details of his daughters experience, which FITS WITH MARYS SUGGESTION. What great luck for “Mary”! WHAT A FUCKING COINCIDENCE!!!!!

9. Also in this scene, she plants a microphone in the apartment (more on why I know this later with an*).

10. Sherlock takes the bait and starts flipping out about Culverton, all-the while: figuring out where John would go for therapy, pre-inviting an ambulance and Molly to his first appointment with her, casually mentioning the time and place of said appointment to Mrs. Hudson (who casually remembers it at the exact right moment and kidnaps Sherlock, taking him straight to the correct door), and tweets that he knows Culverton is a serial killer. 

11. Meanwhile, Eurus has also figured out John’s therapist’s location. How? *Because...she was listening to his conversation with Mrs. Hudson, and she knows exactly how he deduced it (which she later lays out for John) because SHE WAS LISTENING.

12. Fast forward a bit, Sherlock thinks he’s won - has John back on his side, has Culverton cornered, and has figured out the puzzle placed before him. BUT Culverton already knows the woman he met wasn’t his daughter - because he already knows Eurus impersonated her to set Sherlock on his trail, and already knows Mary’s video message reinforcing that Sherlock go after him, because that was the plan.

13. So Sherlock is right in the trap. Mycroft is busy searching 221B for the reason Sherlock has gone off the rails, and during this John’ asks about the SECRET SIBLING. In a room where the only relevant people to hear that he knows there’s a secret sibling are Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson and Eurus’ microphone.

14. Mrs. Hudson then turns the conversation to what Sherlock is like, specifically saying TOTALLY RANDOMLY “Everything he can’t find the answer for? BANG - it’s up there!” So John goes over the the mantle AND WHAT DO YOU KNOW, IT”S MARRY’S VIDEO - so they pop in the video, and Mrs. Hudson pretends to never have seen it before even though she watched it with Sherlock.

15. Mary’s video gives us, and John, the message that “The only way to save John, is to make him save you” - a.k.a. imma send you to die and then tell John its his job to save you BUMMER IF HE DOESN”T THO LOL 

16. John does save him though, and Sherlock survives, and that scene at the house happens. Where John says “It is what it is.” Then. THEN. He goes back to therapy - and what does his therapist fucking say?? “IT IS WHAT IT IS?” BECAUSE SHE’s got a camera or microphone somewhere in that apartment and has been listening for weeks, so she heard his entire conversation with Sherlock.

17. And then. She absolutely, 100% on purpose, asks John about The Other Sibling. She heard him ask Mycroft about it - she knows he didn’t tell her, and that Sherlock didn’t tell her, and she says this ON PURPOSE to get John on track with the fact that she’s totally fUCKED WITH THEM.

18. She reveals she was “Faith”, and that got the note, which she planted with Sherlock, from Culverton - as a “mutual friend introduced [them]” A.K.A. MARY. And you know what else Mary gave her?

19. JOHN’S EXACT PLASTIC DAISY, FROM HIS HOUSE.

20. And what did the note hide that Sherlock missed (which he only finds again becuase SOMEHOW a desk (?) got moved and it was right there plain as day for him to pick up, by the way) because he was purposefully distracted by Culverton, Faith, and Mary? Moriarty’s message - the thing that links them all together.

21. And then she breaks out the gun - and fires (as you can see the smoke at the end). This image bookends the episode - it is both the first frame, and the last frame.  Edit: Found great meta from more detailed people than [ @impatient14 ] I that proves this shot is not Eurus, but John. Eurus was wearing a white top, this person’s arm has a black jacket - and then they matched the gun up. VERY interesting...

THEY ARE ALL WORKING TOGETHER AND HERE’S YOUR DETAILED PROOF. my case is rested and i am wired.

[humaneyre]

Reconsidering Mary is Moran Theory

One of the most appalling aspects of s4 is the OOC development of Mary. She was villain!Mary in s3. Now she’s hero!Mary in s4. Are we really supposed to buy this? I chalked it up to bad writing initially. But unfortunately for work and everything else I should be doing right now, I’ve been sucked back in by The Lost Special and, also, just really having a hard time believing that Moftiss really could possibly have written something so terrible. I could believe that it wasn’t going to be Johnlock, but I could not believe TFP, which was just terrible on all levels. Now I’m convinced that it’s been purposely orchestrated to cause a media stir, outrage the fandom, etc. etc. because that is in fact a very Sherlockian thing to do. See this post for further explication.

So, now that I’m convinced that The Lost Special is coming, it’s back to theorizing. I personally buy into TFP being John’s TAB as the most plausible theory. TLS will flesh all that out when we see John waking up in hospital and highly romantic satisfying ending between the two. But we still need to tie up the Mary loose ends, most glaringly, the bizarre character shift. @finalproblem provides a convincing explanation of how Mary faked her death. I have posted showing the connection between the Mary DVD and the ivory box in ACD’s “The Dying Detective,” the former being toxic and meant to either kill or “burn the heart out of” John and Sherlock while the latter contained a literal toxic pathogen. 

Mary is Moran would explain the following, currently unexplained facts about T6T that are not okay, IMO, if she is really meant to be saint!Mary. 

1 - Mary continues to undermine John, sending both the explicit and the implicit message that she is more competent than he is and more needed by Sherlock. 

2 - She is super amazing brilliant spy lady but has no idea that John is not happy in the marriage? Which leads to the next point:

3 - The timing of the texts from Sherlock to John and Mary: They are received simultaneously. Meet at the London Aquarium. Right as John is about to confess to Mary that he’s been texting this other woman. Obviously, for Mary’s death to have maximum impact fucking up John, then he’s got to experience maximum guilt. She needs him not to confess, to die with that little *secret* on his conscience. Yet she well knows that he’s been cheating on her because she’s MORAN, Moriarty’s right-hand man, and we’ve already seen that Moriarty is in league with E. E of course is part of the plan to fuck up John, undermine any sense of himself as a decent human being. Mary knows exactly what John was about to say and gets him to stop so that she can fake die before he says it. 

4 - Really, would Moftiss leave Moran out of BBC Sherlock? No way. They’ve included all the prime villains of ACD Canon.

5 - Is it plausible that our amazing brilliant spy lady would leave a tracker device on her memory stick? No. The disappearing act “for you and Rosie” was a setup, again increasing John’s guilt and emotional dissonance because he has to chase his wife all around the world with Sherlock Holmes to keep “the vow” when he doesn’t even want to be with her. Yet he can’t very well say that can he, when Sherlock is being so chivalrous about protecting the *three* of them. So John’s forced to go along with it, pretend that that’s what he wants and that that’s who he is. The happily married man, Sherlock Holmes’s “right-hand man,” except now he’s not even that because Mary has eclipsed him as Sherlock Holmes’s *better* right-hand man. 

6 - Rosamond: would saint!Mary really name their child after her spy identity? Alex, Gabrielle, Rosamond, and AJ: the AGRA assassin unit. AND, the way that she does it, the show has made this point twice now. John had no say in the naming (HLV) and then, worse, they had agreed on Katherine but Mary unilaterally says no AT THE CHRISTENING, it’s Rosamond. She just completely undercuts John. On re-watch of this scene, the name is also repeated both by Sherlock and Molly, and Molly further emphasizes it, telling us what it means: “Rose of the World.” The only other person we’ve been told what their name means is Euros “East Wind.” I’m of course not implying that the child has any connection to Euros, only that the name is emphasized. We are not supposed to just skip over it. And, stepping back for a moment, Mary’s whole story about wanting to disappear into a normal life, John Watson was her world, her one love, yadayada: Naming your daughter Rosamond so that your spy identity can constantly be brought back to you is not what this saint!Mary, devoted to domesticity, wanting to leave all of that behind, would do. 

I’m sure there’s more that I’m missing. Bottom line: Moftiss are psychologically astute and hopeless romantics. That I believe. I cannot accept that they would write this horrible relationship between John and Mary, everything about it undermining John, and then really want us to believe that Mary is a saint. No. Mary is a villain, which in the universe of this show means that she is *anti* true love. And, BTW, that is also what it means in ACD Canon. Mary will be back in The Lost Special and her crimes revealed. Sherlock got his super-villain-killer-of-Victor that allowed him to understand his own “sociopathy” and move beyond it. John needs his super-villain-Mary to allow him to understand why he never could love her and move beyond it.