#am I a tidy person trapped in a messy person's body?

[snrland]

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

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[snippychicke]

Aftermath--Three

Chapter Three is here! The last of the set up chapters, after this is mostly just...fluff. 

No warnings, I think. A surprise waits inside, however. 

First | Previous

 Otto had spent most of his adult life working for the commission. A few time jumps to different eras and decades, but mainly staying somewhere in the 1960s since it seemed the more precarious times. Nuclear war liked to develop at the drop of a pin, and even the most well-meaning change could spell Armageddon thanks to trigger-happy Americans and Russians. 

(Though a few times it was the UK and France. And once China, which the rest of the world hadn't realized had nuclear weapons until it was too late.) 

But no matter where or when he was, he was with his brothers. Oscar might have mingled with the civilian population once in a while, but he, like Axel, either had other responsibilities or would rather relax at their temporary home than deal with the locals. 

He wasn't used to civilians and their quiet, dull lives. Granted, Lorelei often had her radio on to break the silence if she were home, and the grainy black and white TV was usually turned to the news. (She also had a habit of chattering while changing the dressings on his eye every morning and every night. Even if half the time her southern drawl made her words hard to understand, her tone and lit were pleasing to listen to.) 

It was still dull, with nothing but the pain to distract him from his thoughts. Losing Oscar had been hard enough, the wound still fresh on his heart. Even now, he expected his younger brother to try and ambush him just to get a reaction out of him. Or hear him trying and failing to sing to the more upbeat music on the radio, stumbling over the English words. 

Then he lost Axel; his last memory of his older brother being of his hands around his neck and Axel's face twisted in both rage and grief of not controlling his actions. Otto found himself praying to some unknown power that Axel was out there, somewhere, carrying on. 

Otto feared if their position had been reversed, he wouldn't be strong enough. He struggled as it was, but the thought of finding Axel gave him strength. Believing his brother was out there gave him the motivation to keep trying to regain his strength. 

And startling Lorelei was becoming decent amusement as well.

"Why are you doing pushups?! Shit, your eye is bleeding again!" (It often did at inconvenient times, leading to her fretting like a mother hen. She wouldn't rest until he allowed her to fuss to her heart's content. )

"Why are all my kitchen knives impaled in the garage wall?" (Relearning to aim with just one eye was becoming a chore. And he gave in to the need to take a break just as she returned from work. She quickly forgot about the knives as soon as she saw he was bleeding, again,  and about five seconds from passing out.) 

"Jesus Mary and Joesph, I swear Otto, you may not be a serial killer, but you definitely have a screw or two loose!" (He swore she hadn't dusted the cobwebs from her ceiling in decades, but considering how small she was compared to him, he couldn't wholly blame her. To his amusement, she tried to steal the feather duster he had found, jumping pathetically to try and reach it as he held it out of reach. It reminded him of Oscar, and then it wasn't quite as amusing.)  

It wasn't that he was getting soft towards her; it was simply that he had a sense of honor. The reverse of an eye for an eye; she had been kind insane enough to help him. The lengths she went to and fussing over him as if she genuinely cared, made him feel indebted to her. He could tell Raymond didn't trust him, giving him a dark look when he visited every day. 

But he couldn't harm her. He had no reason to (and it certianly wasn't because she tried so hard to show him kindness. Like when she tenderly brushed his hair away from his forehad when she feared a fever. Being so careful during dressing changes, her voice soft and soothing, her touch gentle. She quickly picked up on his body language and did her best to distract him when his thoughts got dark.) 

It was nearly two weeks before he was feeling well enough to think about leaving seriously. Two weeks no sign of Axel. He kept an eye on the news for anything bearing his brother's mark, but there was nothing—no trail for him to follow, making him antsy. 

The longer he stayed, the farther Axel was. (He refused to believe there was any other reason. Axel was out there. Somewhere.) 

It felt a bit wrong to leave when Lorelei was at work with nothing more than a note saying thank you on the kitchen counter and assuring the small room was in perfect condition (or as best as could be, considering the old worn everything.)

It took him a while to find the small cat house, feeling like it was halfway across the suburb of south Dallas (or it could have been that he wasn't quite up to strength just yet.) The ragged curtains were still drawn shut; a few of the cats lounging in the windows  enjoying the sun while others relaxed on the small steps thanks to the little cat door Oscar had crudely cut shortly after they had 'moved in.'

The cats welcomed him with plaintive meows, rubbing and threading through his legs. The fact the place smelled like an unclean catbox was enough to confirm Axel was no longer using it as a base. The large bag of dry cat food was spilled across the kitchen and living room, yet the cats were far more interested in him as he searched the small house for any sign of Axel. 

But every trace of their residence had been cleaned away per protocol, with not even the vaguest of hints where Axel's next destination was.

Except, for some reason, his and Oscar's bags were still stuffed in the hallway closet, packed and ready for a quick retreat, just as they had left it. The ache in Otto's chest strengthened at seeing his little brother's pack buried beneath his, the white and black milkman hat sticking out from where Oscar had quickly stuffed it before that last mission. 

Otto could still remember chastening him to take better care of it if he honestly wanted to keep it, and Oscar had groaned he would fold it correctly when they got back. 

Except his little brother didn't return with them that day. 

Only the cats were witness to him, pulling the hat out and falling to his knees as he clutched it to his chest, biting his tongue to trap the scream of agony from escaping. 

                                                        --+--

Lorelei supposed she shouldn't be too surprised when she returned to an empty house. She had noticed a restless shift in Otto for the last few days. The kind she had seen before in others that had stayed with her to recuperate before they too moved on. 

At least he was kind enough to tidy up after himself (was it embarrassing that he was a better housekeeper than her?) And he had even left a piece of paper saying thank you that she pinned to her fridge. 

She knew Raymond would be relieved when he found out he had left. Even though Otto proved he wasn't about to hurt either of them, her soul brother was about as distrustful as could be when it came to him (granted it was somewhat earned.)

But she was going to miss him and his odd antics. Like how he had sat at the kitchen table, all of her knives laid out before him along with an old whetstone he had found somewhere in her junk drawer, and spend probably at least a few hours just sharpening the dulled blades. (Generally, after he used them for target practice.) His determination to find some odd house chore she had slacked on and finish it without so much as a word. 

 He had been silent, but it wasn't the oppressive silence like her father's had been, where she knew he was boiling about something (like her existence). Sure, once in a while, it would be broody or antagonistic when Raymond visited, or something reminded him of something dark in his frankly mysterious past. But otherwise, it had been amicable. 

Even when she was chatty out of nerves or after a particularly stressful day, he hadn't seemed annoyed. Instead, she sometimes would catch a faint smile as she prattled on. Or even a light huff of laughter when she made a joke, and he shook his head slightly because her jokes were usually terrible puns. 

"Oh, I'm an old biddy," she sighed to her comatose patient the next day, setting up another saline flush along with the IV antibiotics. "Here, I keep telling everyone that I'm fine being by myself, yet here I am getting attached to an absolute stranger. I should just get some cats, huh?"

The man was silent, which she expected. The doctors had just been in to check the healing stump of where his leg had been. Which meant the nurse had dosed him with plenty of pain meds just an hour before. Partially to help negate the pain from the procedure itself, but also so he wouldn't try to grab the nearest person as a hostage. 

That encounter still left many of the other nurses hesitant to enter the room. It had been the day after the John Doe had been brought in the emergency room, found by a couple of hunters just outside of town with a traumatic amputation of his left lower leg.

One minute he had been asleep (or assumed) as the doctors discussed treatment plans, and the next, he had jumped up, grabbed one of the nurses, and had a ballpoint pen pressed against her throat while swearing something in an odd language as everyone scrambled. 

What was with white-haired men and being violent? Granted, she had never seen Otto like she had the John Doe, his pale blue eyes wild with both rage and pain. 

Which was why restraints were now strapped to the remaining three limbs. The straps rattled against the metal sidebars as John Doe stirred, making Lorelei pause. His young face was twisted into a grimace, and she moved to brush his forehead out of instinct.

"Bror?" He mumbled, making her stomach twist in guilt. She didn't think her rambling would wake him.

 "Shh, it's okay, hun. Just get some rest," She smoothed his messy white hair, smiling as he relaxed back into sleep. 

"Lorelei, you know you're crazy, right?" One of her fellow nurses asked as she slipped from the secured room and into the nearby nurses' station, "Going into that room by yourself. You saw what he did to Mary Lou!"

"Well, how would you feel waking up without a leg and a bunch of people hovering over you, talking in a different language," she shot back defensively as she grabbed John Doe's chart.  

"Not homicidal," her coworker responded, working on her own chart notes. "I mean, I'd scream for sure, but I doubt I'd be able to move the way he did. Hell, I doubt I'd ever been that quick." 

                                                      ---+---

Lorelei supposed she shouldn't have been happy to see Otto sitting on the front steps of her home the next evening. She had a crappy day, her feet were killing her, and she was planning on just crashing in her bed. Yet seeing him on the cement step, two large backpacks sitting on the dilapidated porch, made the end of her day a little better. 

He looked up, the bandage still wrapped around half of his face, but she was pleased not to notice any blood staining the gauze. She wasn't so happy to see the melancholy expression on his face.

 She took a seat on the step next to him, feeling warmth radiate him to chase off the chilly December air. She wasn't brave enough to look at him, and instead plucked a piece of dead grass from the lawn. "Don't tell Ray, but you make a decent house guest. Not many men clean up after themselves, let alone fight me about dustin' or sweeping them cobwebs out." 

She peeked a glance after a pause and felt relief to see a faint smile on his face as he focused on the dusk colored sky. "I won't ask what you've been up to, as long as it ain't gonna be bringing any police around here." 

"No," he answered her joking comment gravely. 

"Kay, good."  She tore at the blade of grass some more. "So... Are you looking for a place to stay, or are you just here to say bye for good?"

This time he did meet her gaze. His dark eye looked haunted, and she could see the telltale marks of crying by the red rims and puffiness of his lids. Her fingers ached to reach out and try to soothe the crease around his good eye, to bring some sort of comfort, so she shifted to sit on her hand instead, hoping he would think her fingertips were cold. "Because like I said, you're a nice house guest. You do your own share of the chores, and you can stay as long as you like. Just no more using my good steak knives as darts, you got me?"

"Yes," he answered solemnly, making her heart jump. "...Do you like cats?" 

His question surprised her for a moment before she smiled. "Yeah, I do. I was just telling my patient that I should get a few."

He nodded his head without elaborating further, though she swore there was a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched the last glimmer of the sun fade away. 

The silence this time was broken by her stomach growling, earning an amused glance from Otto as she blushed. "Right. Well, I'm hungry,' she hurriedly jumped up and offered her hand to him. "Shall we?" 

He accepted her hand, the callouses firm against her skin. It still surprised her how tall he towered over her. "Let's see; I have fish sticks or hot dogs. It's up to you…."

                                                   ---+---

Lorelei woke the next morning to a blank and white angular-face cat kneading her pillow; its purr a deep growl. As soon as the cat realized she was awake, it butted its head against her as a greeting, its purr becoming louder. 

"Where did you come from?" She asked as she sat up, allowing him to crawl into her lap. The cat, of course, didn't answer but continued to knead her lap. She picked up the cat and descended the stairs, following the smell of sausage and the quiet mewl of other cats. A group of them were sitting expectantly at Otto's feet, jumping when he would toss a piece of an egg at them. All of them boney and looking as if he had found them wandering the streets. 

"Dare I ask?" She asked, shifting the cat to protect her modesty as he glanced over at her. She didn't miss the quick once-over before he shrugged and returned towards breakfast.

"You said you liked cats." 

Living with him was going to be fun, Lorelei decided as she allowed the cat down to join its brethren at his feet and instead shuffled towards the fridge. "True. I did say that." She just didn't expect so many. They were all weaving around him, eager for a treat, which made it hard to count, but she swore there were at least a dozen. "So… do they have names?"

"Bebis." 

She waited for him to elaborate and frowned when he didn't. "Are you saying they are babies, or that they are all named Bebis?"

"Both," he answered, shooting her a quick half-smile as he flicked another piece of an egg at them. 

"Oh no, that isn't going to work. I mean, I fully agree they're babies, but they need their own names." She busied herself with setting up the kettle for coffee, trying not to think how easy it was moving around each other, or how much happier she felt compared to the last two days. 

It was the cats; she decided as one jumped up on the counter to pester her. Definitely the cats. She blushed when she noticed Otto watching her out of the corner of her vision as she baby-talked to the small tabby that looked like it hadn't eaten in weeks. 

Just the cats.

Next Chapter 

[purple-nana]

Barriers

Part 6 - Angst, Fluff

1.4k words   ( Part of the Dorm of us Series)

Warnings: Cursing~

A/n: Hii! I know thiss is soo late but I got sick huhu. That’s probably why this is crappy. Keep safe everyone!

Cold sweat drips from your forehead as you stare at your father. The limitless arguments of your mom and dad are the only sound that can be heard throughout the entire house.

But why can’t you hear anything? The noises were muted as if someone covered your ears.

You were dazed.

Why is he like this? Why does he always come home drunk?

Everything was not making sense to you. Why are they fighting?

Something was not right.

At times like this you just want to scold your self for obeying your mom to leave the house and ‘have fun’ for no absolute reason. You were completely clueless, unaware of why, what had caused this.

You just stood there, staring at your parents not knowing what the hell what was going on. You were so glad to be able to return back home after a long day of school then, this is what’ll greet you.

You tried to utter your words but, you can’t speak. You can’t hear them now you aren’t able to talk.

Their arguments continued for minutes that seemed like hours, they didn’t stop.

Your vision’s getting blurry, you’re getting lightheaded.

The scenes in front of you were the same, nothing was changing—

A loud thud echoed through the house.

Your mom was on the floor. A huge bruise was on her face.

That woke you up from your reverie.

“Mom!” You tried to run to your mom but,

you can’t move.

What was happening?

You struggled to move, focusing on your strengths to pull yourself from whatever was holding you back, not noticing your father.

Another crash was heard.

You turn your head, your mother was being beaten.

“No Mom! Dad please! DAD!” You screamed as hard as you can.

“No! Dad Stop!”

“Mom!”

They can’t hear you.

No. No. No. No.

You feel trapped, afraid and agitated. You can’t do anything. You watch them as you struggle to shift your body, screaming in agony.

No. why?

tears fell from your eyes. you can’t take this anymore.

“Y/n!” a voiced echoed through your ears.

But you can’t see it, your eyes was fixated on your parents.

You have to save your mom.

“Y/n wake up!”

“Y/n!”

“NO!” you woke up, breathing heavily.

“Y/n what happened?”

“Dad—he was going to hurt m-mom!”

Your gaze went to person standing beside your bed who was, Jaemin?

He sat down beside you, and hugged you tight. “Now now, your mom is safe.”

Tears continued to fell from your eyes. “W-where’s dad?”

“He’s not here, nor at your mom’s place.

Jaemin pats your back softly, your head nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Your breathing slowly went back to normal.

You remembered. It has been a couple of years since your father was sentenced to jail.

It seemed like it was just yesterday, the memory was still fresh in your mind.

Each nightmare was that exact event.

Why were you still dreaming about this?

Was it because you don't know what to think about your dad's sentence.

Were you still afraid? Frustrated?

You don't know. But one thing's for sure is, your mom is safe.

Jaemin and you stayed in that position for a while, not muttering a single word.

Maybe the both of you just—want to keep the silence?

But then again, the position and patting was way too comfortable for you. It was exactly what you need after that horrendous nightmare.

It even makes you sleepy.

Your eyes were starting to droop, drowsiness slowly taking over you.

Your eyes slowly closing into place—

"HEY! Don't eat my bread!" Renjun screams followed by an inaudible chattering.

You don't even know whose voices were speaking.

Hold up. Why are the boys being loud af at this time of the night?

Your eyes shot open, the sleepiness that you were feeling a few minutes ago were gone all of a sudden.

You pulled out of Jaemin's embrace and went to check your phone.

3:14 am. The fuck?

Well, it was actually normal for the boys to be up at this hour but, didn't they told you that they were going to bed early?

Wait. You turn your head to Jaemin, who was looking at you with an innocent gaze.

How did this guy knew that you were going to have a nigtmare anyway?

Confusion was probably evident on your face, you can tell it just by the look on Jaemin's face.

He chuckles and went to the door, his hand motions you to come with him.

Yeah, he seems weird. All of them were these past few weeks. But, why would you say that right?

You went to the door and the both of you made your way to the living room, where all the noises were coming from.

As you get closer, the noises get louder as well.

The scene in front of you was—pretty much the same as usual actually.

Jeno was leaning by the wall, with a huge ass smile on his face. Renjun being the smol person that he is, was reaching for the bread that he was complaining about. And Haechan who's teasing Renjun with the bread—

Wait a minute. Haechan?

What is this bitch doing here?

You stared at him, tears once again were forming in your eyes.

You missed him. You want to cry while hugging him then all of you will catch up, cause it's been so damn long.

But, you also want to kick him and punch him in the face. That's what he should get for disappearing without saying anything.

"I know what your thinking," Jaemin whispers to your ear, "go ahead, you missed him."

Even if you can't see his face, you were sure that he was smiling.

Jaemin said to do what you want, so you'll do it.

You went ahead and stepped closer to Haechan, the two other boys noticed your presence but the both of them acted as if you weren't there which was exactly what you wanted them.

Your going to make sure that Haechan will be able to feel how much you've missed him.

"OUCH! What the?!" Haechan turns to see you, he immediately froze. The smack you gave him was probably too much but nah, he deserves it.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. What you did was the exact opposite of what they were expecting you to do.

"Y/n?" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"So you're back too huh?" He became silent and lowers his head.

He was probably expecting you to throw him out but.

"Awwwww I missed you so much Haechannie!" You hugged him really tight which made the boy surprised but then returned the hug as well.

"I-i missed you too wahh!"

The both of you jumped while being in each other's embrace. The other boys were no doubt exchanging weird looks between them but you didn't care. You missed this boy too much.

You pulled out and hit him lightly. "Why did you leave without telling us!" you pouted.

"I'm so sorry~, I'll tell you tomorrow or they will tell you." Haechan looked at the other three who then avoided your gaze.

So they knew? And they didn't tell you? That's why they were being weird.

"Hehehehe sorry y/n we wanted to tell you but we figured out that it's best if we just surprise you." Renjun briefly explains then showed a peace sign to you.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Ei I'm gonna sleep now bye." Jeno made his way to his room.

"Wait! Which room am I staying?" Haechan asks which made Jeno stop.

The dorm has 5 rooms in total, but since Haechan ran away the four of you decided to turn his room into a storage one. Until that room gets cleaned, Haechan needs to find a roomie.

"I don't think you'd want to sleep in my room, it's too messy." Jeno shrugs then continued to go to his room.

Haechan looked at Renjun who immediately shooks his head.

"No no, you aren't staying there. Why would I let you sleep in my tidy bedroom." Renjun poked his tongue at the boy and ran for his bedroom, closing the door with a thud.

And that leaves the three of you. Haechan looks at the couch, the tiny couch.

He sighs. "Guess I know where I'll sleep in for now."

"I guess I could have Jaemin sleep with me for the mean time."

"wHat?" Jaemin looks at you in confusion.

"Reallyyyy you'd do that for me?" Haechan shows his puppy eyes.

"Sis no, I don't want another nightmare. It's for me not for you."

"Whatever." He copies your expressions earlier and happily skipped towards Jaemin's room.

You look at Jaemin with a small smile.

This is going to be a longg week.

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[xxsovereignsarayaxx]

Supernatural - Road to Revenge Chapter 4

Authors Note: Here is chapter 4! Hope everyone is well. Thank you to all for the likes and re-blogs. If anyone wants to be tagged in the upcoming chapters please send me an ask. Bit more drama to be added to the plot. Word Count: 2934 Warnings: There is some angst in this one. Character death.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

My heart had just shattered into pieces.

Nia was dead…

I had seen plenty of bodies in my lifetime but with this being Nia’s body and not just some stranger. It was different. It was a member of my family so now it was personal. 

Her body was tied to a chair, the rope that once bound her was drenched with her blood. Whatever blood was still in her body still slowly dripped onto the floor. Her head tilted backwards - lifeless. Her eyes had rolled and dry tears and what makeup was left stained her once perfect features. Nia’s long black hair was matted and messy. I noticed her top had been cut, pulling the knife I had in my boot. I used it to carefully peel the blood soaked garment away for a closer inspection, the new anti-possession tattoo she had gotten a mere few hours before, the tattoo that was meant to keep her safe had a large gash breaking it. And just like a devil's trap or salt circle once it was broken you were no longer protected. 

I felt something wet on my face. I was crying. I didn’t cry. I was never allowed to. But suddenly I just collapsed to the ground, the knife that was once in my hand clattered to the floor. The last and only normal part of my life had been taken away from me. I curled up into a ball on the floor. I felt weak, powerless and vulnerable. 

Was she in Heaven? Was she in Hell? 

As I laid there on the floor. I remembered...

Weaknesses are not tolerated. Failure is not an option.

My training started when I was five years old, I was taught how to dismantle and reassemble a handgun, then shoot it with precision by seven my marksmanship was the top of its game. I even rivalled some of the adults. At eight I had to prove that I was the top of my class, my opponent  and other classmates finally understood why you never brought a knife to a gunfight. I was being trained into the perfect killing machine, they were lucky I was a blank slate when I arrived. When my fourteenth birthday came I was sent out in the field, it was also the day I escaped from the clutches of my handler.

“Nicole, step forward.”  

I did as I was asked and stepped forward, there was a line of us eight of us to be exact both male and female. All dressed in black, our hair was neat and tidy and the same solemn expression littered each individual face except for one.

“Maxwell, step forward.”

The boy froze in his place. 

“Maxwell, step forward. You know the rules if your name is called out you step forward.” The voice said again this time firmer with more authority.

The boy finally stepped forward and the rest of the line was dismissed, they dispersed quickly and quietly hardly making a sound.

“One of you is ready to graduate. But you must prove your worth. You must prove to ‘The Men of Letters’ that you are ready.” 

With that we were left on our own. We knew that only one would leave the room - That person would be me.

“Nicole… We don’t have to do this.” Maxwell whimpered, his eyes searching for a shred of hope.

“This is what they have trained us for.” I said bluntly looking at the few weapons that were left on a nearby table.

“But…”

“Maxwell you are weak. And weaknesses will not be tolerated!” I shouted as I picked up a throwing knife and launched it at him. I missed by an inch.

“You were chosen because you needed to be dealt with. Failure is not an option, you have failed the Men of Letters because you are weak.” I stated as I cornered him.

And right before I had him pinned up against a wall…

I shot back up but this time I wasn’t alone Dean had me cradled in his arms. I then broke down, tears streamed down my face once more, I buried myself in his jacket. From that moment the remnants of the person I used to be, came flooding back. I will hunt down this demon and nobody is going to stop me.

 “Nikki I’m so sorry.” Dean said, trying to shush me to try and calm me down.

“I need...I need to put her to rest.” I muttered trying to get out of Dean’s embrace. He wouldn't let me go at first.

Escaping Dean’s iron hold I clambered back up to my feet, bending down to pick up the knife. The silver blade being a welcomed cold feeling on my palms as I tightened my grip. Carefully making my way to Nia’s body I sliced through the blood soaked ropes. 

“I know she wasn’t a hunter but I think a hunter's funeral would be best.” Dean said softly. 

I nodded, finally through all of the ropes that held Nia. I closed her eyes and Dean walked over and carefully picked her up.  

“Please be careful with her.” I whispered. 

Dean never uttered a word but simply nodded. As he held Nia close to his chest, not caring that her blood stained his clothes, we made our way through the empty bar and back to the impala, opening the back seat door Dean slid Nia’s body onto the smooth yet worn leather. We drove towards the Las Vegas Ranger District as that was the closest place to give Nia a proper hunters funeral. The drive was silent, nothing but the odd glance at one another. By early morning we arrived, Dean immediately got out of the car and got the axe that lived in the trunk. I still sat in the car keeping Nia company, I turned to look at her.

“Ni, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I have been a crappy sister. But I promise you that I will find the bastard that did this to you and I will make them pay. I hope wherever you are, you’re happy and at peace.” I whispered to her, reaching out to hold her cold and lifeless hand one last time. 

Once Dean had cut down enough trees to make a base, he offered to get Nia out of the car but I declined, I had to be the one to do this. I opened that car door and picked up my sister. Even though she was slightly taller than me I was still able to lift her. I put her on a white sheet that Dean got out of the trunk and placed on the floor. Smoothing out her hair, I kissed my fore and middle fingers and planted them on her forehead.

“Sweet dreams sis.” I said softly and wrapped her up tying the sheet where necessary. 

I carried Nia to the base, I struggled to place her down and Dean with an act of kindness aided me, he didn’t take over he just helped and I was thankful for it. He then took a step back as I doused Nia’s body with salt and the gasoline. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver zippo style lighter - it was Nia’s lighter, the one I had bought for her on her birthday when she turned 21. I had it engraved with the words. ‘Smoking is bad for you. You're a pain in the ass. Try not to lick anymore window glass.’ I took the lighter. It seemed fitting to do it with this. As I flicked the lighter a flame appeared. I watched the mix of blue and amber dance together. 

“I promise I will avenge you Ni…” And with that I threw the lighter onto the wood and flames roared to life as they ate up her body. 

Dean pulled me close, both of our eyes were red…

“Has your past got something to do with Nia’s death?” Dean asked me to break the silence.

“Yes…”

We stayed with Nia for a good twenty minutes and then headed back to the car. My walking pace was faster than Deans.

“Actaeon as in the wind, we need to rethink how we are going to do this.” Dean suggested softly. 

“How I’m going to rethink this.” I said stopping and turning to face him.  

“Nik, you can’t do this one alone.” Dean replied, coming to a halt.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t do this alone? You should know me better than anyone Dean, that if I’m told I can’t do something I will do the opposite.” I argued raising my voice.

“You’ll get yourself killed!” Dean snapped.

“Then so be it! I just had the last shred of normality ripped away from me.” I shouted back.

“You want to end up like Nia? You want it to be where it’s me and Sam burning your body? Is this what you're aiming for? You are the best thing that happened to me Nikki and I’m going to bloody make sure you're still around. If Nia’s death is connected to your past then you need to fill me in. Even if it's just the basics.” 

“You know the basics Dean. I was in a foster home when I was fourteen, I met you and Sam a couple years later.” I replied bringing my tone of voice back to its softer tone of voice.

“Why were you in that foster home though?” 

“Because I ran away from what I thought was my home. Because I wanted no connection with my past and coming to America was the best way to do that. Because I wanted to forget what I was being turned into, but when it’s drilled into you 24/7 for almost a decade you don’t know any different!” I ranted.

Every time I spoke Dean inched closer to me and by the time I had finished speaking we were face to face, I had told him too much. I let my emotions get the better of me. He pulled me closer and kissed me hard but full of love and passion, he held my face in his hands. But while he was doing that I had another idea in mind, I reached into my jacket pocket and held onto a set of handcuffs that I shoved in there earlier, and with a grip on the metal restraint I slowly pulled them out quietly so I wouldn’t be caught.  

“I am so sorry.” I whispered as I pulled away from Dean. 

I quickly attached one cuff to his wrist, maneuvering around so I stood behind him. I grabbed his other hand and cuffed that one as well. A look of disbelief was plastered over Dean's face. 

“Nik? What are you doing?” He asked cautiously, spinning back around to face me.

“I have to find him D…I have to send that son of a bitch to rot back in hell. He killed my sister…” I replied with tears falling down my features once more. I cried more times today then I had ever done in the past. 

“Revenge is a dangerous road to go down. You told me that.” Dean pleaded. 

“I don’t want you to see the things I’m going to do.” I said plainly. 

“Please when this is over I hope you forgive me.” I added and punched him in the face with such force I knocked him clean out. 

As Dean fell backwards I fished my phone from my pocket. Dialling Crowley’s number he picked immediately.

“Fawn pleasant surprise.”

“Where can I find him?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder still seeing Dean passed out. 

“Like I said you don’t find Actaeon.”

“Then point me in the right direction Crowley…” I snapped.

“Fine, fine.” 

The phone line went dead but however he appeared at my side. Peering over my shoulder he saw Dean still unconscious; he pulled a sarcastic face. 

“Dean will wake up with a headache and nothing more.” I told him.

“If you say so.” 

“Anyway, so like I have mentioned time and time again, you don’t find Actaeon. But I can point you in the right direction. Head over to this address. You're looking for a sweet thing called Kandy. And by sweet I mean fickle and conniving."

“So just normal demon behaviour? So this Kandy she works for Actaeon?” I replied sarcastically raising an eyebrow.

“Your reputation precedes you Miss Callahan…”

“Nobody calls me that now…”

“You really think a change in last name and moving to another country would keep you safe?” Crowley asked.

“It worked well so far…”

“Do Moose and Squirrel know of your past?” 

“No and it stays that way. Do you hear me?” I almost shouted back.

Crowley put both of his hands up in surrender. “Alright Fawn I won’t say a word.”  

Still holding my phone I threw it on the ground making sure it smashed in the process, I couldn't have Sam nor Dean track me. This would be my fight. Satisfied that my phone no longer worked I walked over to Baby knowing that putting a knife in her tires would definitely end my relationship with the unconscious hunter so instead I took the dust caps off letting the air out. I needed that small head start before Dean came around. I took off the two thigh holsters and left one of my weapons on the ground near the impala. I wanted to use it as a sign to Dean that I would come back.

I turned to Crowley. “Let’s go.” Holding one of my guns, sliding out the magazine and checking the chamber, and then tucking it into the waistband of my jeans hiding it with my jacket.

Crowley got me to where I needed to be, Omaha Nebraska to be exact. I was currently looking at this small bar located down this alleyway, standing in a small puddle I turned to look at Crowley. “This is where this Kandy is?” I asked.

“Correct Fawn, this is the end of the line in where I shall be assisting you. Good luck.”

“I know you didn’t have to help me, but thank you.” I replied.

Holding my head high I entered the small bar, this time there were actual people inside which was a good sign, as I approached the counter I took note of the bartender cleaning glasses. She was around 5ft5, bubblegum pink hair with bright blue eyes. Her makeup was full and her false eyelashes were one of the most standout features, she stood out. “Hi Sugar, what can I get you.” She asked in a southern accent.

“Whiskey neat please.”   

The bartender picked up a clean glass and put it on the counter bending down to get a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous helping into the glass. She nudged it forward. Taking the glass I brought it to my lips and took a sip, pausing for a moment appreciating the taste I placed it back onto the counter. 

“What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?” The bartender asked me in her southern drawl.

“Could ask you the same question?” I countered.

“Well I work here sugar. What's your excuse?” 

I took another sip of my drink enjoying the burn. “I’m looking for someone.”

“I make it my business to know everything and everyone about this city.” 

“Do you know where I can find someone called Kandy?” I asked tracing the rim of the glass with my finger.

“Well you're looking at her. Now are you a friendly hunter or do I need to get my friends over there involved?” She asked pointing to some of the bar patrons as her eyes flickered to black and then back to the radiant blue.

I turned to look over my shoulder seeing the potential demons by the door.

“If you don’t give me a reason to shoot you then I’m a friendly hunter I shall be.” I replied, flashing her a smile. 

“I’m told you work for Actaeon, do you know where I can find him?”

Kandy let out a chuckle and leaned towards me. “I sure do. But why would I go against him? I mean Actaeon keeps me safe from the likes of your kind.”

“You know how I said before that I wouldn’t shoot you, you're now starting to give me a reason to.” I told the pink hair demon giving her a wink. 

I downed the rest of my drink and slammed it on the counter. “Unless you want a bullet in between your eyes. I know, I know it won’t kill you but I’m pretty sure I can get hold of an angel blade that will. Actaeon may have protected you from other hunters but he won’t be able to keep you safe from me…” I added in a sickly sweet voice. 

“And there is the person that I’ve heard so much about.” Kandy said with a chuckle.

After that moment a bag covered my head and I was restrained. I struggled in the grip that held onto my tight. Kicking my legs trying in any attempt to break free from my captors. “Let me go!” I attempted in a muffled shout. As I was moved into another part of the bar I was forced into a seated position, I then had my arms tied behind my back to the back of the chair. 

“Well, well, well” Said an unknown male voice. 

[cryptidofthekeys]

Its another tf2 oc and im not ashamed

Let me break it down to y’all how this happened, so basically- I wanted a mafia-esque spy character but then my brain decided ok mafia mans is coolio BUT WHAT IF... t e n t a s p y mafia boss man? And voila here this fucker is

Name: Alphonse Blanchard | Titles/Nicknames: The Spy, Boss which usually his "partners" call him that, or just call him Alphonse, only ONE person can call him AL, anyone else tries it and well it wont be a very pleasant experience | Gender: Male | Species/Race: Used to be a normal human, now he's a Tentaspy- a m o n s t e r. | Age: 49s/50s | Occupation: Even tho he's got the title of The Spy n such- he's p much teechnically a Mafia Boss- b i g boss man for sure- | Height: When he was human he was about 5'7", but now he's 8'9" (nearly 9ft) | Eye Color: His eye color when he was human was a Steel Gray color, his eyes are now a Charcoal color (mostly for their meanings n stuff), his pupils are also slit ones now. | Hair Color: (even though most of his face except for his eyes and mouth are covered by a balaclava and you'd most likely never see him without his mask on, his hair color is black with grey streaks in the sides of it, however for the record- his hair is VERY tidy and slicked back) | Appearance: Now, not much changes tbh- except... he cant wear pants bc of the tentacles on his lower half but I'll get to those in a minute, he wears v e r y fancy and HIGHLY expensive suits, only the f i n e s t of clothing for him, usually he wears dark gray or black suits but he does have other colors- their just ALL dark colors, he likes the appeal of black or gray colors- and he d e f i n i t e l y loves the meaning behind them, they fit him so well... He also wears fedoras, he has some rings (you know the ones- the ones that some mafia characters or just big shots in general tend to wear- yeaah, his biggest ring and the one he usually wears has a skull on it-), and he of course has a circle beard, oh and he has a lot of scars both on his upper human body and his tentacles even, just- gettin that outta the way right quick- now onto his more monstrous features... For starters, let's get the simple one out of the way, he DOES have claws now, long sharp black claws to be more specific- his tentacles are pitch black on top with Smoke Gray tiger-like stripes going down them his underbelly is also Smoke Gray color- and oh boy... here's the most complex thing- his teeth, while all his teeth are p much bear trap teeth, his lateral incisors both top and bottom are longer kinda like vampire teeth or something like that ya know, his actual canines both top and bottom ones along with his first AND second premolars (again both the top ones AND the bottom ones are actually curved (kinda like an anaconda's in a way- p much- just- hooked teeth, perfect for hooking onto prey and not letting go if need be) | Personality: Oh b o y well, where to even begin with this motherfucker? He's narcissistic as hell "I k n o w I'm handsome, yes~" and god forbid you compliment him or anything- bc with e v e r y compliment, every good thing said about him his ego inflates and grows tenfold, even if you say bad shit about him- he don't give a fuck- as long as it doesn't affect his reputation then you'll be fine! He'll just pay no mind to petty insults or anything, at first- insults calling him a monster n anything similar bothered him, it made him feel sick every time someone had used those insults but now? Now... While he would MUCH prefer to have legs again (its honestly just bc its easier to walk around with legs than tentacles), he e m b r a c e s the fact he's a monster, he knows there's no reversing this, if there was- he would... he wouldn't go OUT of his way for it BUT he would at the very least TRY  to get his hands on whatever could cure this, ahem anyways- he's come to terms with what he is even if some things about it aren't... ideal... I wouldn't say he's EVIL really, he's more so a neutral unless provoked/attacked- t h e n he'll "take care" of whatever or whoever's causing the problem with NO mercy whatsoever, but other than that he can be a reasonable man, just don't piss him off, steal from him, etc- basically don't make enemies with him and you should be just fine, he isn't one for small talk or anything like that, he wants to talk business, business and m o n e y even, even if he is a fucking HIGHLY rich bastard, he always wants more- he's got a BIT of a greed streak in him for sure (that doesn't mean however he won't let others borrow money, he just expects them to pay it back in the end or sometimes... he'll use his money for ahem, undercover classified reasons...) He'll flirt with a n y o n e if they happen to catch his eye, not just ladies either- men, ladies, no gender? What the fuck ever, if he wants- he's GONNA flirt with anyone, even if it might not end in love or whatever, he doesn't? really? He doesn't really care tbh, love is alright and if it happens it happens but honestly- he's just a fucking flirty b i t c h, who loves to see that flustered look and get a reaction from the other, you'll never truly know... feelings? Maybe but probably not... (tl;dr: Flirty bitch- I wouldnt hold hopes for feelings, greed streak but isn't afraid to let others borrow money so long as they pay it back in the end- some things he uses it for are classified- p much [REDACTED] info, neutral unless provoked/attacked, no mercy nor care towards enemies- can and WILL wipe out every single one of his enemies without a single t r a c e being left behind, even tho he's a monster now and has a LOT more strength than a normal human, he still tends to use guns or knives but isn't afraid to use his monstrous features if need be, narcissistic bastardery at its finest- compliment him and watch his ego inflate! "Don't you want r e a l friends Alphonse and not just henchmen or lackeys?" "....Non, not in the slightest, absolutely disgusting to even ASSUME I need friends, I, myself am my best company, better than any friend could e v e r do" w o w- b a s t a r d energy there huh) | Side Facts: ...Truth be told, he won't e v e r forget the day he turned into... this... this t h i n g... Even if he's accepted his fate, even if he's accepted to be this monster, the memory still lingers and haunts him and his very dreams, he has nightmares about it, and its mostly due to the agonizing pain he felt d u r i n g his little "transformation", it happened one day- he was in his own medic's lab (yes, the bitch has his o w n doctor), it was a normal routine health check up his medic liked to do- the man was always harping onto Alphonse for that pesky smoking habit of his, but then suddenly, one of the rival- well, t h e y call themselves family- Alphonse only considers the people he hired to be henchmen, lackeys, OR- just employees for basic terms, but one of his rivals broke in and decided to open fire and of course, it turned into an all out gun war, Alphonse DID get shot- which is what caused him to stumble backwards into a shelf full of god knows what, after he bumped it, a few jars of weird substances had fallen onto him, after that he could feel his body twisting and contorting, he remembers the a g o n i z i n g pain he felt that day, it was worse than that mere gunshot wound that he had... Aside from the horrifying memory of what fate had befell him... He also remembers what he d i d to his little rivals... He remembers the mortified and terror-stricken look on their faces, all of them had ran- except for... their boss... so much for "family sticks together" huh, he remembers slithering over towards the boss, who- well, he tried to fire from the looks of it, but he was so terrified that he had dropped his gun, Alphonse had never seen such terror on a grown man's face like that, but he loved e v e r y. s e c o n d. until the very end, he doesn't remember what came over him in the end, maybe it was blind fury, or maybe it was just instincts, but after he did what he did... He remembers seeing the boss's head ripped off completely along with other limbs ripped off and flung across the room. Unfortunately, his suit was v e r y messy after that- He actually still keeps the boss's head preserved- almost like a t r o p h y in fact... ....Oh, your probably wondering what happened to his doctor, right? ....Well, I'll say is he's still out there, he didn't get killed- neither by the rivals nor Alphonse's instincts/fury, but truth be told... He doesn't REALLY wanna come back, he wants to stay hidden- I will say, yes- he DID see Alphonse transform, but after that he fled- part of him figured deep down that Alphonse would be v e r y angry with him since h e was technically the one who had those jars just sitting around on the shelf and he did NOT wanna stick around if that man was c r o s s with him... now whether or not Alphonse will ever encounter/find him again? ... Who knows- h e h ASIDE from all the backstory of why he turned into a Tentaspy, let's move onto things Alphonse just- likes to do in his spare time when he's not talking business n all that jazz- He usually smokes some of his cigarettes or cigars, he loves the cigars more though- he'll also do some reading in his spare time as well, or he'll listen to some calming music- sometimes he'll do all three, smoke, read, and listen to some calming music- he's not... the most exciting man, he's just usually busy- so when he's not- he'll just do those things- He'll SOMETIMES go outside and get some fresh air, usually its at night- not necessarily just bc there's l e s s people to worry about- but usually because he enjoys looking up and seeing the moonlight when its out, such a beautiful sight...

[innerpowercounseling-blog]

A Decluttered Life, Part 2

Items and Identity

Let’s begin at the beginning.

As I mentioned in Part 1 of this series, I recognized the need to start from scratch, giving myself the space and time to literally examine every object I owned, from clothing to paper clips. The only way to understand the impact of the things in my life was to surround myself with them. Viewed in their totality, there was nowhere for me to hide and no excuses. So I began to follow the KonMari method* in earnest, pulling out all the items in a certain category and holding each one in turn. Then I allowed myself to honestly experience the feelings and thoughts associated with each item. I soon learned that most of what I owned had more insidious ties than I had expected.

For such a long time I had battled with myself over the things I owned. I knew the life I wanted to lead, both personally and professionally, and worked hard to give myself permission to pursue that life, no matter what anyone else thought. I felt increasing clarity around the difference between the way of living that I valued and the life it seemed I was expected to lead. I knew what looked good—important position, fancy office, big house, nice things. But for my husband and I, it wasn’t what felt good. It did not bring life or joy. Accumulation is the norm for a lot of us, and we each have our own reasons for owning things—for soothing ourselves through what we consume. I do not believe that every item we own was bought in an effort to soothe ourselves or meet an inner need, and I do not believe that big houses are the enemy of the soul. What I do know is that I fell into the trap of accumulation and appearances way too many times, and stayed there for longer than I wanted.

When I owned certain items or books, I felt that they said something about me. They told the world who I was and what I liked, as if those objects were my credentials. “See, I am a smart and valuable person. I love Sartre and here is the proof: I own his books and plays. I am also interesting and unique, as well as a real female nerd. Look at my varied collection of figures and video games. I am a good wife and mother. See my nice pillows and tidy kitchen?” The items also told me something about myself: “I affirm you. As long as you own me, you are still connected and valuable. You have not lost the magic of your childhood. Hold onto me, and you will have light in the darkness and way to protect yourself.” I heard and I believed.

I now understand that I did not feel like a full person with a connection to my core Self. My internal house was constantly at the mercy of my own tornado. I experienced my life in pieces—different parts of me swirling around at dizzying speeds, lost and without a tether. I wanted to own my experiences and love what I loved simply for myself, but as long as I believed that I needed the approval of others, I was stuck. I had to vigilantly search for—and hide away—any part of me that did not fit what others seemed to value. I created closets upon closets of dirty secrets, shoved away whenever company came over. Messy bedroom? Close the door. Extra weight? Hide it. Tatoos? Wear long sleeves. Doctor Who figures? Put them away when “real adults” come over and pull them out when nerdy friends pop by.

It is exhausting and lonely to know yourself only through the opinions of the outside world. And while some people are open with their judgments, most are not. So we take on the maddening task of inferring what other people think, painstakingly sieving through every look and conversation. And we scan the outside world, religiously taking in the pictures and comments of others, hoping they will tell us what is good and how we can become valuable. What we actually want or need gets lost. And that is where I found myself—pulling back and realizing that not all of my life was authentic. Not all of me wanted the things I was collecting and striving for. But where was my true voice? Sometimes I could barely hear it.

What I want for myself, and for my family, is a life of true love—fueled by the joy of creativity and connected to the souls and minds of others. I cannot reach that place by staying the same and simply accepting what comes. I cannot connect to others when I am afraid of myself. So whatever gets in the way of being in that genuine place needs to be examined and re-examined. I want to know within myself who I am and what I stand for, unshaken by the opinions and judgments of others. When I believe in myself and my family, then I do not need to show others who I am, and my life does not depend on their decisions about me. I do not need other people to believe I am intelligent and professional. I will show them with my actions, or I will not. But no book on my shelf or clothing on my body can do that for me. I do that for myself.

Staking claim to my Self happened in many forms, including the decision to truly discard the trappings of success and identity. If I held an object in my hands and felt that I owned it to please someone else, I let it go. If I knew that a book was only on the shelf in hopes that the right person would see it and think highly of me, that book needed to move on. With a gentle kiss (yes, literally) I thanked the item for its help and placed in gently in a donation bag. As I did this, I not only saw my external world expand, my internal world lightened as well.

I felt connected to the power within me—the power I had placed my hope in even before I was certain it existed. I could reach up my hands and gently remove the blindfold. In my blindness, I had assumed my weights were chained tightly to me, burdened with locks I could never break. Now I could see the truth. There were many weights, yes, but the chains were weak and most of them had no locks. If I wanted, I could stand up and walk right out.

The internal world is a complicated one, and I admit that I had to walk out of the same door more than once. A few times I found that an object held layers of meaning for me and while I could recognize that it was tied to my identity, I still found it hard to let go. Often, those items had nostalgic, emotional energy as well, and needed to be revisited. I had to acknowledge the part of me that feared the loss of emotional connection as well as the part that longed to be seen and valued. With complex items, I also made a promise—from my Self, to every part of me. We would not squander our new freedom. While our chosen path would wind and narrow at times, looking very unlike the path of our neighbors, we would be faithful to ourselves and those we loved, walking in trust and faith. I believe we will not be disappointed.

References

*Kondo, M. (2014). The life-changing magic of tidying up: The japanese art of decluttering and organizing. New York, NY: Ten Speed Press.

Disclaimer:This is a blog, which contains a mixture of my current knowledge and opinions. The information is accurate to the best of my knowledge but may contain omissions, errors, or mistakes. I am a psychologist licensed to practice in the state of Washington, but this article does not create a psychologist-client relationship. I am providing psychological information and my own opinions for informational purposes only, and anything I present should not be seen as psychological, emotional, or medical advice or treatment. You should consult with a mental health professional or your primary care physician before you rely on this information or take any action. I reserve the right to change how I manage or run my blog and may change the focus or content at any time.

[rnainframe]

every! single! one!

can you tell my mood dropped hard like halfway through

angel; do you have a nickname?at the moment lars is pretty much just a nickname because my mom won’t let me get a name change

awe; how old are you?19!

baby; favorite color?red!

bloop; spirit animal?that’s not a very good term iirc but i guess wolf?

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?book: wolves of the beyond is very near and dear to memovie: the world’s end, the thing 1982, the incredibles, deadpoolsong: i have... so many

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

her name is baby, she’s dressed up, and i still sleep with her to this day,

breeze; most precious childhood memory?sitting behind my dad and watching as he plays games on the psx and gamegear, i mainly remember ristar and sonic on the gamegear and silent hill on the psx

bright; mermaids or fairies?both!!!

bubbles; do you have a best friend?@aceiou @gruvu

buttercup; showers or baths?showers, submerging my body freaks me out

butterfly; dream destination?a road trip to visit all my frands

buttons; are you religious or spiritual?spiritual, mainly superstitious

calm; favorite scent?a kind of cologne my dad used to wear

candlelight; what did you dream about last night?my brain reminding me of my deep-seated desire to reconnect with an asshole i used to crush on despite me wanting to bury it for good

charming; have you ever been in love?yes

cozy; eye/hair color?i think the name of my hair color is light ash brown? people confuse me for ginger and blond though somehow

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?80s/90s, also the aesthetics of the 20s~50s

cupcake; favorite flower/plant?succulents, roses, lilies

cute; what did you get on your last birthday?clothes, something useless from my sister, a panic attack

cutie pie; most precious item you own?baby, my phone, my sketchbook, a paw print from sadie the people that put her to sleep sent us

cutsie; what makes you happy?i’m too numb rn to really know

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.i think the last time i got to go anywhere with friends and without my mom involved was last summer

daydream; how do you want to be remembered?like my dad, where people try to remember him fondly while ignoring the glaring bad shit about him, hhhH

daylight; favorite album of all time?smoke + mirrors from imagine dragons, in silico from pendulum, no culture from mother mother

dear; zodiac sign?sagittarius on the traditional zodiac, ophiuchus on the updated zodiac, my animal is the rabbit

delightful; concerts or museums?museums, concerts get me overloaded unless it’s a band i really like

dimples; have you ever written a letter?yeah

dobby; dream job?i don’t know anymore

doll; how do you like to dress?comfortably, ideally masculine

dovey; any paranormal/magical experiences?my dad haunts my house

dreams; do you want or have any tattoos?i wanna get either an eye coming out of my shoulder of a shamrock in memory of my dad, something simple and space (and/or wolf) related in white ink, uhhhhmaybe the pokemon league symbol somewhere

drizzle; do you believe in aliens?they’re out there

euphoric; talk about someone you love.ace is adorable!!!! i love them so much, their voice, their face, their fashion, their art, their writing!!!!!!

fairy; do you have a pet?ginger morkie named rusty, i wanna get another lab sometime

fluffy; ocean or mountain?mountain

forever; where do you feel time stop?sitting outside at night when it’s snowy, it’s so quiet and magical feeling

froglet; are you a good plant owner?unfortunately no

garden; how many languages do you know?one, trying to learn german or danish or irish

gem; who are your favorite tumblrs?aceiou, gruvu, bunjywunjy, bogleech, weirdmarioenemies, uuhhhh

giggles; what is your aesthetic of choice?either space or red+black glitch stuff

glittery; do you like anons? why/why not?when they’re nice

glow; list the top 5 things you like about yourselftoo numb for that rn

heart; silk or lace?silk feels nice to touch but i wouldn’t wear either

honey; coffee or tea? how do you take it?coffee, cappuccino mixed w/ hot chocolate and a lot of creamertea, raspberry or peach iced tea

hugsy; do you enjoy people watching or bird watching more? why?birds don’t judge you

hunnybunch; what sounds help you sleep?white noise - the sound of a fan, the sound of rain, etc

jewel; what’s your favorite kind of weather?rain, especially stormy

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?every day is a weekend. i have no life. i am rotting

joy; do you laugh loudly or giggle more?i wheeze or silently laugh. i used to have an ugly loud laugh

kinky; do you blush easily?i blush when embarrassed or crying

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?spending every moment loving on the person i’m with, every day being like the first day we met

kitty; what’s your favorite time of the day?sunset to night

ladybug; what’s your favorite artist to listen to when you’re sad?mother mother

love; what is your favorite season and why?autumn. it’s not as depressing as summer

lovey; what is your favorite flavor of macaron and ice cream?i’ve never had macarons, but i love bunny tracks and peanut butter cup and bear creek caramel and

magic; what are five flaws you have?you think i can narrow it down to just five

moonlight; do you prefer soft pastels, warm neutrals, or cool darks?warm pastels, warm neutrals, warm and cool darks

munchkin; what do you look for in your significant other?idk but i got it

paddywack; how would you describe a perfect date?wandering around mainstreet and old town st charles, eating at rt weilers, getting ice cream at riverside sweets, then having sodas from the old soda shoppe, ideally in autumn

pebbles; how do you spend free time by yourself?sleeping, wasting away on the internet, the likes

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?don’t get attached, everything will go bad someday

pretty; do you like to cook or bake more?baking is easier but i feel more in control when cooking

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?horrible, illegible

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?i used to play the recorder, then the flutei want to learn the guitar but i’m so bad at it that when trying to tune a very expensive guitar i got as a gift when i still had passion for it i broke a string

prinky; how do you relieve stress?i don’t

pumpkin; what is your favourite kind of fruit/vegetable?strawberries, raspberries, bananas, pomegranates, pickles, broccoli, tomatoes, pumpkins

rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?i can’t focus on reading anymore

roses; what is the most significant event in your life so far?my dad’s death.

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?my dad’s death.

shine; art or music?i’m not good enough at art to deserve picking it, and i’m an audiophile (not! a! fetish!), so

shimmer; do animals tend to like you?i get too rough without realizing it. rusty probably doesn’t like me. he just licks me and sleeps by me whenever he doesn’t have my mom to love on.

smitten; do you collect anything?bottle caps, can tabs, pokemon merch, empty pill bottles

smoochies; how many pillows do you sleep with?four at the head of my bed (two go unused), one plain blue body pillow to hold, like five other pillows to add pressure to my legs

snuggle; what is your favourite candy?peppermint kisses

snuggly; do you have a camera? if so, what kind?phone

sparkle; do you wear jewelry?i used to wear necklaces all the time. they all break because of how i stim with them. my mom doesn’t trust anything around my neck anymore

spooky; sunrise or sunset?sunset

sprinkles; do you like to listen to music with headphones or no headphones?headphones

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?crashbox, digimon, power rangers, pokemon, total drama

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house.my room. 

soothe; digital or vinyl?digital

squeezed; who do you miss right now?read over some of the questions and ask me again

sugary; what traits do you value most in friends?can i trust you

sunshine; do you prefer for things to be practical or aesthetically pleasing?both

sweet; do you find it easy to open up?too easy

sweetie; do you like kids? if so, do you ever want to have any?they are sensory nightmares

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?edd gould is dead

toot; what is something you find unique about yourself?my ability to get completely numb over the dumbest bullshit

tootsie; what kind of friend are you?a bad one

treasure; what was something that made you smile today?nothing so far

velvet; are you an early bird or a night owl?night owl

whiffle; if you could have a magical power, what would it be?shapeshifting or invisibility or mind reading

whimsical; do you prefer doing stuff at home or going out?ideally i wanna go out but only if i trust whoever i’m with to understand that i burn out fast anymore

whiskers; do you usually wear makeup?no

wiggly; are you a messy or tidy person?i obsessively organize things but am very messy

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?i have no choice, i legally own the house i’m in now. i can’t go anywhere without dragging my mom along. i’m trapped

wobbly; have you ever wished upon a star?i wish to have good birthdays. they never come true

[nialledfromfics]

chapter fourteen

There was a moment when Chloe was folding a small batch of her laundry, mindlessly walking straight into Niall’s closet to grab a few hangers off the rack before slipping a couple dresses and a pair of work slacks onto them, that she had to pause and really think about what she was doing. Her brows furrowed inquisitively as she folded up her underwear and socks and shuffled over to Niall’s dresser, opening the second to top drawer and pushed a few of his boxers aside to set her things next to his. Her lips rolled into her mouth in question as she was tidying up the bathroom, scooping her makeup and hair products into a drawer and dropping her toothbrush down into the holder.

There was a moment when she walked out into the main living space, her feet coming to a stop to let her dark eyes wander the open room. A few of her gossip magazines on the coffee table and her favorite wool blanket tossed on the back of Niall’s couch, her sunglasses and keys and the many contents of her cleaned out purse littering the end of the kitchen island. Two different jackets of hers hanging up by the door. Her special mug, the one Liz had bought her when she had gone to Cabo with Jack two summers prior that had her name written across it, still resting half full on the dining table and four pairs of her shoes, just scattered about aimlessly throughout the apartment.

There was a moment where Chloe saw the mixture of her things with Niall’s and a spattering of Finny’s and thought to herself, ‘When did this happen? When did I move in?’

A smile curled on her lips as the thought crashed through her head and that was it. That was the moment she realized this was exactly where she belonged.

Her nails gently scraped down the flexing slope of his sweat-coated back along with the faint cry that pulsed past her lips as his body rolled to a stop on top of her. Tangled in the messy sheets, their hot breaths panted out and hovered in the sticky air around them, just the slight peek of the morning sun sprinkling along the glistening skin of their naked bodies. Niall smiled down at Chloe, their chests heaving in unison as they struggled to gather themselves from the inexplicable highs they had both endured just seconds prior. His big hand slid over to the side of her face, brushing away at a few unwieldy strands of her black hair before Niall leaned down and hastily pressed his lips to hers.

“Mmm,” she faintly hummed in pleasure as he pulled back from the kiss, “you always make me feel so good.”

A shudder fell over Chloe’s skin as Niall lightly chuckled and slipped himself out of her, shifting his wrecked body down next to hers on the bed. She grabbed at the blankets, which had been fervently kicked away during their heated throws of passion, and pulled them up to her chin, covering her bare frame. Niall settled onto his back and flicked his eyes back and forth across the ceiling, a hand carding through his mess of hair as he blew out a sigh. “Not as good as you make me feel, my love…”

Peeking over at Chloe, she was already curled up on her side staring at him and Niall’s mouth turned down into a coy smirk before he leaned in and playfully nibbled at the inviting curve of her neck. Chloe’s head toppled back in a reserved giggle, one that rang so sweet past Niall’s ears and he wrapped his arms around her body, nestling her up against him to cuddle. Her head rested on the dip of his shoulder, his warmth pestering at her already sweaty skin and she danced her fingers over his chest, Chloe watching as she wound her fingertip around the tiny dark hairs.

“You know,” she started, taking a moment to pause and breathe him in, “this is actually the longest relationship I’ve ever been in.”

It was a thought that had entered Chloe’s mind late the night before, when her and Niall were tucking Finny into bed and giving him a kiss goodnight. She had almost forgotten how long it had been since she began dating Niall, her life recently like a whirlwind of pure happiness and unrelenting love and when she actually stopped to think about it, she realized that she had never been with any other man as long as she had been with him. Chloe had never loved a person before, not like she loved Niall.

Crinkling his brow, Niall tipped his chin to glimpse down at Chloe. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He huffed out a breath, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s only been, like, four and a half months…”

“And that’s not long?” Chloe gently scoffed.

Niall chuckled, gingerly shaking his head against hers. “No, I just meant–” His words dropped off and he tightened his arms around her body. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a relationship this long before.”

Chloe pushed out a low sigh. “I’m clearly just a difficult person.”

“You aren’t difficult,” Niall laughed out, “you just-…okay, maybe I reckon ya are a little difficult.”

“Hey!” Chloe shot back. “You’re not supposed to agree!”

Niall gave her a chuckle and shook his head, his eyes flicking along his white ceiling. “I’m jokin’, darlin’, you know that. You’re not difficult, you just hadn’t found the right guy yet.”

Tipping her head back slightly, Chloe peered up at Niall, just seeing the dusting of his grown in beard across his jaw before he became aware of her eyes on him and looked back down at her. “Are you that right guy?” she asked, a demure sweetness in her voice.

Niall felt Chloe’s splayed hand slowly inch down the side of his torso, her fingers drifting over the soft flesh of his waist. He smiled at her. “I am one hundred fuckin’ percent that right guy,” he whispered, his answer making a blush fill Chloe’s cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut in a bashful giggle.

“Well then, we should just make it super official,” she went on, gazing up into his blue eyes, “I should just move in.”

It was a joke. Sorta. Kind of a joke. Maybe, not really. But it had just clambered off her tongue like a untamed wild animal, desperately trying to escape a trap. “You should move in,” Niall quickly followed up, not a second wasted in his reply.

Chloe didn’t say another word, she wasn’t sure how she could with her throat feeling as if it had closed up entirely and she just stayed mute and very still, the air practically non-existent in her lungs as Niall’s eyes narrowed just a tiny bit and darted over hers. He wasn’t sure what was swirling around in that head of hers, he wasn’t even sure if she had been serious in her suggestion, but he was. He was dead serious. And he let out a short chuckle as he watched Chloe harshly bite down on her bottom lip. “I’m serious, babe,” he softly spoke up again, “move in with me. All your shit is already here, you’re here all the time, which...I wouldn’t have it any other way, to be fair. I don’t want it any other way…”

She swallowed hard. “Ni, I–”

“You love me, right, Chlo?” he asked. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe nodded.

Niall pushed out a small sigh and reached over to trace his fingertip over Chloe’s temple, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And I’m...madly in love with you,” he told her, keeping his stare glued to hers, “more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I don’t wanna pressure ya obviously, and if you don’t wanna, that’s fine–”

“I want to.”

“You do?” he asked, cupping his big hand around her jaw.

A tender smile etched across Chloe’s lips. “I have never felt this way about anyone else before in my life,” she explained, watching his half lidded eyes drag over her face as she spoke. “You’re my best friend, you always will be. I love you and I love Finny and I wanna be here. I...I want to move in.”

Watching as a grin spread helplessly over Niall’s pouty little lips, Chloe giggled as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. She was waiting on his kiss, anticipating it, craving it as she always did, and it was just a second after Niall had slid his tongue into her open mouth that the bedroom door unwieldy swung open and an energetic little boy barreled his way into the room, jumping up onto the bed.

“Fionn!” Niall yelled with a laugh, Chloe holding the covers tight to her body as giggles simultaneously spilled out of her and Finny’s mouths. Crawling up the middle of the bed between Niall and Chloe, the little boy crumpled into his father’s open arms, giving him the biggest hug he could manage.

“Mornin’, da!” he mumbled before turning to look over at Chloe. “Mornin’, Chloe.”

She gave him a smile and reached over to ruffle his bed-head. “Good morning, kid.”

After the tiny attack of kisses given to Finny’s face by his father, he calmed his burst of laughter and settled his little body, and his stuffed dino, Roary, down on top of the covers between the two adults. “Sleep good?” Niall asked him, scratching his fingernails through his prickly beard.

“Yup, me and Roary,” the little boy said, holding his dino up in the air and zooming him around.

“That’s grand, son,” Niall told him before he sat his body up on the bed. Swinging his feet off the side, Niall stretched out a yawn, both Chloe and Fionn watching prudently before he bent over and grabbed his boxers from the floor and as discretely as he could, pulled them on. Finny let out a little giggle when the peek of his father’s bottom accidently came into view from the fallen sheet and Chloe laughed as Fionn shot his widened stare over to hers with a mischievous smile. “Gonna go make some coffee,” Niall commented, standing himself up from the bed. “You want?”

“Yes, please, a big cup!”

Finny laughed at his own joke as he said it and Niall gave him a playful scowl before shaking a finger at him. “Not until you’re thirty, boy,” he playfully teased.

Chloe chuckled. “I could go for a cup, thanks babe.”

Giving her a nod, Niall began to shuffle towards the bedroom door. “You wanna come with me and get some milk, Finny?” he asked, stopping and turning around as he threaded his fingers up through the top of his messy brown hair to try and tame it a bit.

Fionn shook his head. “I wanna stay here with Chloe,” he told his dad.

“It’s fine, he can stay here and cuddle with me,” she assured him, watching as Niall shot them both a smile and made his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Bouncing onto his side to face Chloe, Fionn hugged his stuffed dino to his chest, his eyes lightly tracing down over the waves of Chloe’s dark hair as she turned even more on her side towards the little boy. He slowly reached out his hand and let his tiny fingers tossle through the strands of her hair that laid right over her ear and down her shoulder. “You’ve got pretty hair,” he told her, quickly tucking his hand back at his chest, “It’s dark like night time and soft too.”

Chloe breathed out a smile. “Thank you, Finny, that’s really nice of you to say,” she replied, “I like your hair too.”

“It matches da’s hair.”

“Yes, it does,” Chloe giggled.

His brows furrowed suddenly. “D’ya like it here?”

“Where?”

“In me house,” the boy started, “with me and da?”

Pulling in a breath, Chloe nuzzled her cheek deeper into her pillow. “Yes, very much.”

Finny grinned. “I like it when you’re here. You’re funny,” he said, peeking down at his dino’s face as he picked at the plastic eyeball, “And ya read me good stories and play games with me too. And da likes it when you’re here.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Finny. That makes me really happy.”

His big blue eyes shot back up to Chloe’s. “And I love ya lots.”

Chloe pinched her eyes closed in a soft giggle, the sweetness in the boy’s face making her heart swell in her chest. “I love you lots, too, Fionn,” she whispered back to the boy, cradling her hand around the side of his face and leaning in to push a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You mean so much to me. You and your dad. I hope I can stay here forever with you.”

A lopsided smile spread over the little boy’s lips. “I hope that too.”

The sweet, touching conversation that Chloe and Finny had shared stuck with her for the next few days. Had Niall taken any longer with the coffee that morning, Chloe was positive she would have burst into a fit of happy tears if left snuggling alone with that precious little boy. He was such a huge part of Chloe’s life, a huge part of her heart at that point, and she really couldn’t imagine her life without him. Finny and Niall. Niall and Finny. That was it. That was it for her and there was nothing else in the world she wanted more than to move in with them and start making a life together as a family of three.

Who would have ever thought that she’d feel that way? Certainly not Chloe.

Niall and Chloe decided to wait another week before going ahead with the plans of Chloe moving in. They still hadn’t let Fionn in on the news yet, and he was to be at his mom’s house that following weekend but Chloe’s main concern before all of that, was figuring out a way to tell Liz what was going on. The two girls had lived together since college, bounced from one apartment to the next as their lives changed and settled, but never once leaving each others side. Chloe was also quick to note that it would probably be a huge shock to Liz to know how fast everything seemed to be moving between her and Niall, but she was just so over the moon with it all, and so ready to take that next step with him.

She was in love with Niall, in love with her newly found life and their exciting future together and she really hoped Liz would be supportive of her decision.

Chloe anxiously paced back and forth in front of Liz’s bedroom door. She wasn’t really sure what it was going to accomplish being so apprehensive about it all, she knew she had to speak to her, had to somehow bring up in conversation that she was moving in with Niall but Chloe really had no idea how to do that. She was worried about her reaction, and as happy as Chloe was about it, the last thing she wanted to do was make Liz feel left out or unwanted. They both knew this day would come eventually, Chloe just never expected it was going to be her to take the first jump.

Liz was camped out on her bed, slumped back on her headboard with her laptop resting on her thighs as she watched a movie on Netflix. But her door was wide open and she, clear as day, could see Chloe every time she shuffled past. Liz waited a few minutes, watching out of the corner of her eyes as Chloe went back and forth in front of the threshold, knowing that look on her face all to well, and she hoped that whatever Chloe had on her mind would quickly surface.

Fully glancing up at her friend after a good five minutes of dealing with the slight distraction, Liz saw Chloe’s expression tighten with each second that idled by and she let out a huff, pausing her movie. “What in the heck are you doing?”

Chloe’s feet fumbled to a stop right outside the doorway and she flicked her dark eyes over to Liz. Her mouth just barely parted as she took in a deep breath. “I–...we need to talk,” she mumbled, clearing her throat.

Furrowing her brow at the slight shakiness in Chloe’s voice, Liz closed up her laptop and tossed it on the bed next to her before sitting herself up. “Okay...what’s up?” she asked, quietly encouraging Chloe to come sit by patting on the mattress in front of her.

Chloe scraped her teeth over her bottom lip as she shuffled into Liz’s bedroom, plopping down on the bed across from her. She crossed her legs, her eyes peering down at the mosaic of colors on her friends quilted bedspread as her mind fought to figure out what the best way to spit it out would be. Chloe clicked her tongue in her mouth, Liz’s stare focused on the downward slope of her face before she slowly looked up to her blonde haired friend. “So, like...we’ve always, ya know,” Chloe started, her words stammering off her tongue without direction and her hands dancing around as she spoke, “we’re best friends and, ya know, it’s always kinda came back to us, ya know…being there...for each other…”

Liz chuckled. “Chlo, what’s going on? Just tell me…”

A small sigh slipped past Chloe’s lips. “I’m gonna move in with Niall,” she lightly said, “he...he wants me to move in, I...I wanna move in with him.”

“Oh my God!” Liz screeched, her jaw practically dropping into her lap. “That’s–holy shit, Chloe, that’s amazing!”

Leaning forward, Liz grabbing around Chloe’s shoulders and roughly brought her into a firm hug. “It is?” Chloe said, a bit surprised by Liz’s reaction.

Liz pulled away, tipping her head to the side as she faintly scoffed at her friend with a wrinkled brow. “Yes, are you fucking insane? That’s awesome, it’s like...perfect. It’s perfect.”

“I thought you were gonna be upset…”

“Why would I be upset?” Liz questioned, shaking her head. “Babe, you’re happy, the happiest I have ever seen you. You’re in a relationship with an amazing guy who just happens to be one of our best friends and he treats you unbelievably good, like a fucking queen–I’m actually jealous sometimes, to be honest.”

Chloe’s head toppled forward in a breathy laugh. “Oh God, don’t tell Jack I said that,” Liz chuckled out, clamping her hand over her mouth.

Licking across her lips as the laughter settled out of the girls, Chloe rounded her back in a small sigh. “I don’t know, I guess I was kinda nervous to tell you ‘cause...we’ve always lived together, ya know? Just us and...I didn’t want you to be weirded out by having to get a new roommate–”

“I won’t have to,” Liz interjected.

Chloe’s brows curiously knit in. “...what?”

A smile so bright spread across Liz’s lips and Chloe could feel its warmth beating onto her own skin. “Well, it’s actually kinda funny you brought all of this up because…Jack and I have been talking and....we wanna buy a house together.”

Chloe let out a gasp, a full on gasp that she couldn’t contain with her brown eyes going wide at her friend. “Are you kidding me?” she squealed. “Oh my God, this is huge! I mean...it’s been nearly seven years but, still so fucking huge!”

Liz laughed at Chloe’s comment. “Totally worth the wait though,” she counteracted, “but I was kind of worried about bringing it up to you, not knowing how you would take it but now that you’re moving in with Niall, it…”

“It just all works out.”

Liz nodded. The room fell quiet between the two friends for a moment, their thoughts swirling and their many memories flowing through their heads before Chloe reached up to brush some hair away from her face, catching Liz’s stare. “I can’t believe this is really happening, that this is, like, our lives now,” she said, Chloe’s voice staying soft, “I’m really gonna miss living with you.”

Pouting out her bottom lip at her friend’s words, a tiny hum verbrated from Liz and she quickly pulled Chloe into another hug. “I’m gonna miss it too, best friend,” she whispered. “And I still take full credit for getting you and Niall together, by the way.”

Chloe chuckled, wrinkling her brow as she inched back from the embrace. “What?”

“I knew all along you two would end up together,” Liz shrugged, flicking her light eyes up to the ceiling, “it was just a matter of time.”

Rolling her eyes, Chloe gave her a snort. “You’re honestly ridiculous,” she chided with a shake of her head. Liz giggled.

“Hey, you wanna...maybe order some pizza?” Chloe then asked, peering over at her friend, “I don’t know, we can do like a sleepover, a girls night, like...old times?”

Watching Liz’s face scrunch up in a big ecstatic smile, Chloe laughed as the girl bounced enthusiastically up onto her knees. “Chlo, I would fucking love a girls night!”

The two friends spent the entire night practically in tears from laughter and sharing as many old and embarrassing stories about each other that they could remember. Shoving their faces with Hawaiian pizza and some cookie dough ice cream that Liz had found in the freezer, they watched an old chick flick they stumbled upon on the TV before both fell dead asleep in Liz’s bed.

Chloe was more than eager to get back over to Niall’s the next day; she was excited to share the news that not only was Liz happy and supportive about them moving in together, but she and Jack were also embarking on this big step at the same time. It was more than enough to plaster a big smile across Chloe’s face the entire morning before she was able to make it over to Niall’s apartment later that afternoon.

“I know,” Niall calmly told her with a chuckle. Chloe had stepped into the kitchen where Niall was at the counter making Fionn a sandwich for lunch as the little boy quietly played in his bedroom. Her dark eyes traced over the broad lines of his shoulders in the soft-knit polo shirt he was wearing before shooting back up to his face, Niall staying focused down at his task.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Chloe cocked out her jaw and Niall smirked as he flicked his stare over to hers. “How do you know already?”

“Jack called me last night and told me,” Niall informed her, Chloe rolling her eyes because of course, Jack would tell Niall immediately after finding out that Liz had told Chloe. “Pretty fuckin’ awesome, eh?”

Chloe breathed out a smile in agreement. “Yeah, it really is. I’m excited for them.”

Setting down the knife that he had used to smear on a bit of mayo onto Finny’s ham sandwich, Niall dusted off his hands and stepped over in front of Chloe, gripping her around the small of her waist. His bare feet slotted on the outsides of hers as he pressed himself to her body, his heavy lidded eyes peering down at her as she quirked a brow and fought off the tug of her top lip. “I’m more excited for us,” Niall whispered, kneading his fingers into the sides of her waist. Chloe licked across her lips and unhooked her arms, reaching up to cup her palms around Niall’s neck.

Leaning her bum up from the edge of the countertop, she lifted to the tips of her toes and slowly brought Niall down to meet her in a soft kiss. He smiled against her lips, their mouths opening slightly to let the other in and as the kiss deepened and Chloe’s fingers threaded up through the back of his brown hair, a loud knock on the front door startled them both.

Niall let out a sigh at the disruption, not having a clue who it could be and his eyelids fell closed before he pushed a tiny peck to Chloe’s pouty mouth and stepped away to go check who was at the door. Chloe turned around and took the initiative to help Niall in finishing up Fionn’s lunch and she put the sandwich it on a plate. She had just grabbed a handful of grapes out of the fridge when she heard the front door swing open and what sounded like the hint of a familiar voice.

Chloe’s brows crinkled for a split second before the voice registered in her head and immediately her eyes went big and her fingers gripping tight to  the small plastic Avengers themed kids plate that was in her hand. Flicking her stare over to her left, she attempted to curiously peer around the large kitchen wall, but was unable to see what was going on. Her heart was nearly beating out of her ribcage, thumping so loud it almost drowned out the sounds of her staticy breathing and it wasn’t until she heard Niall say the girl’s name that Chloe rushed out of the kitchen, setting down Finny’s plate on the table before hurrying over towards the door. They both shot their eyes over to Chloe as she stumbled to a stop right beside them, Rachel standing in the open doorway facing Niall as he let his mouth hang open in what Chloe could only assume was pure shock and confusion. What the hell is she doing here?

With her dark narrowed eyes flicking back and forth between them, Niall caught Chloe’s perplexed stare and faintly shrugged his shoulders. Rachel let out a low sigh and Chloe and Niall both slowly shifted their attention over to her. Everyone stayed eerily silent, just stares floating between them all before Rachel swallowed hard and glanced down to the floor. Her gaze lingered at the toes of her boots for a moment before she popped her head up and looked straight over at Niall. “I’m a bitch, I know I’m a bitch,” Rachel began, her tone low and clear-cut, “I’ve claimed that title years ago and I own it. But what you two did to me...it hurt my feelings and it really pissed me off–”

“Rachel–”

“No, let me finish, Chloe, please,” she snapped, flicking her eyes over to Chloe with a raise of her finger. “You were right. A part of me...does want my son all to myself, but another part of me was just doing this out of spite. And I know that’s not fair to Fionn.”

Niall huffed out a heavy breath, his head drooping forward a bit as he ran his fingers up through the top of his hair. Chloe’s mind was in overdrive; taking Rachel’s words and trying her best to dissect what she was saying and where exactly she was going with it. “I know I haven’t been the best mom to him,” she continued, reaching up to tuck some of her straight brown hair behind her ear, “I know that. Me choosing to leave him and go off with Trevor for months after we split probably wasn’t the best thing for me to do, and I know I’ve probably compromised my relationship with him because of that.”

Niall’s hand swung down by his side with a sigh. “Rach, he loves you…”

She nodded, and Chloe tucked her lips into her mouth as she watched the tears start to well up in Rachel’s eyes. “I know he loves me, Niall, but I also know that….he won’t ever look at me the way he looks at you.” Letting her eyelids flutter closed, Rachel shook her head lightly as if she was trying to ward off the tears that were already slipping down her cheeks. “I know you’re an incredible dad to him and he deserves that and I am so thankful that you are his father. No matter what went wrong between us, no matter what happened, I will never regret having him with you.”

Raising her hand to cover her slackened mouth, Chloe stood silent, her stare starting to blur with wetness as she peered over at Niall. His chin was wobbling, his jaw clenching tight and she drifted her stare over him as his gaze dropped to the floor, Niall letting his mind process everything that Rachel was admitting to him. It was something she had never said to him before, or even out loud and it was something that he would have never thought he would ever hear from her. “I’ve decided to withdraw my appeal,” she quietly continued, “I don’t want to take him away from you, Niall. I really don’t.”

Niall’s eyes shot up to Rachel, furiously darting over her face as she gnawed at her bottom lip and struggled to settle her breaths enough to go on. “But I was wondering if maybe, we could try and figure something out?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Just so I could see him a bit more often? I’d really like to try and work on my relationship with him. I want to have what you have with him.”

Perching a hand on his hip, Niall dragged his other palm over the front of his face as he slid his stare away from Rachel’s, his watery eyes pressing together as he choked back the tears he could feel building. Chloe wanted to reach out to him, to say something but it was only a second before she watched with a tug at her heart as Niall humbly grabbed Rachel and pulled her into a hug.

The tears from all were unstoppable by that point and Rachel wrapped her arms around Niall as he gently rubbed down the slope of her back. It had been the first time in nearly three years that they had hugged one another, and the moment was inexplicably huge for them. “I really am so sorry, Niall,” she mumbled, sniffing back her soft cries, “...for everything

Backing away from their embrace, Niall smiled at her. “We can work somethin’ out, Rach, I’ll schedule a meetin’ in the mornin’.”

Rachel nodded, bringing her hand up to wipe the tears off the tops of her cheeks. “Okay, thank you.”

“Thank you, Rachel,” Niall softly responded, “this really means a lot to me.”

Her eyes pressed closed for a second as she took in a deep breath and fixed the sides of her hair, doing the best to collect herself. “I don’t want Finny to know I was here or anything, but I just...I just wanted you to know how I felt. Both of you.”

Chloe’s eyes fixated on the blue of Rachel’s as the girl looked over at her and gave her a tiny smile. “I fucked up with him,” she told Chloe, matter of factly, “but he’s a good one. Don’t make my mistake.”

Swallowing hard as the words left Rachel’s lips, Chloe shakily nodded her head, not knowing how else to respond before Rachel turned around and quietly left.

It felt like an eternity of Niall and Chloe just standing there at the front door, utterly speechless over what had just transpired before Niall turned to face to her. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, Chloe finally shifting her dark eyes over to his. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

Letting her mouth fall open, Chloe began to laugh through the wetness that was filling her eyes, a huge smile pulling across her face. She clumsily bumbled over to Niall, swinging her arms up around his shoulders and bringing him into a tight hug. His face tucked down against the side of her neck, nuzzling into her sweet-smelling wavy black hair as he wrapped his arms around her body and held her as close as he could. That moment, that one perfect moment with the woman he loved bound in his arms was something he never wanted to forget. Sliding her hands over to cup around his stubbled jaw, Chloe easily lifted Niall’s face and brought his lips to hers, both of them blabbering and giggling through their happy contented kisses.

The soft padding of Finny’s feet made their lips smack to a stop as he came around the hallway corner. “What’re ya guys doin’?” he asked.

Niall gave a smile to his son as Chloe slipped her hands from his jaw to rest at his chest, both peering down at the little boy. “We’re celebratin’!”

Fionn’s brows lightly furrowed in. “What for?”

Chloe shot her eyes up to Niall’s face seeing the glow and brightness readily fill his soft blue eyes as he smiled even bigger at Finny. “ ‘Cause Chloe’s gonna move in with us,” Niall explained, peeking over at Chloe through the corner of his eyes. She pushed out a giggle and felt the slight rub of Niall’s thumb over her lower back.

“Really?” Finny screeched as he started to jump up and down with his little fists punched in the air. “Now she can read to me every night!”

Niall and Chloe both threw their heads back in a laugh as Finny continued to hop around the living room hollering. “How ‘bout we go somewhere?” Niall said, catching Chloe’s stare. “Go out to celebrate.”

“What about Finny’s lunch?” Chloe reminded him, cocking her head back to the table where she had set down his plate.

“Forget that lunch,” Niall playfully scoffed as he peered back down at Finny, who had finally come to a stop right beside them with his big round eyes gazing up at his father, “I think we should go to Chuck E. Cheese!”

That garnered another loud excited scream from Fionn and he bolted back down the hallway and into his bedroom in search of his shoes. Chloe stared up at Niall as he hooked his hands together at her lower back, his blue eyes dancing across her face. “God, I’m just so fucking happy with you,” she whispered, combing her fingers through the hair behind his ear.

He breathed out a lopsided grin. “And I’m so happy with you, darlin’.”

Grabbing around the sides of his face, Chloe inched up to bring her mouth to his. “I don’t ever regret falling in love with you,” she whispered against his lips, her nose softly brushing to his as she teased him, “I won’t ever regret it.”

A soft smile slide over Niall’s lips as they skimmed along the puffiness of Chloe’s. “Ya better not….”

[republicscum]

Jedi make the Worst Roommates

AN: No really, take it from the disaffected agent. He knows the struggle. 

This is my Imp. Agent x my Jedi Knight sometime after the Eternal Empire forces cooperation between the Empire and Republic. I can have two outlanders if I want.

One of Cipher’s favorite things about coming home was washing the city off his body. Coruscant’s enormity was every bit as filthy as it was gaudy. It seemed to him that people pretended not to notice sewage pouring into the corners of their beautiful plazas or the crazed eyes of someone who hadn’t eaten in months and didn’t know if they ever would again outside that gold peaked senate tower steepled into the clouds. Cipher had lived in a city wiped clean of people all of his life. It was like one of those replica sets: sharp, clean, empty. But if Kaas City was fake, or shallow, if they were all just bugs in an Imperial belljar – then Cipher was more relieved than ever to be the Empire’s golden boy.  

He ducked his head under the stream of water from his refresher and luxuriously shook his hair out backwards. Satisfied with the rinse, Cipher ran his fingers through the short locks to sluce out water and glanced into the clouds spilling from the full glass wall in front of him. The windows tinted from the outside the realtor had assured him, but from indoors it was hard not to feel like he was creating a spectacle for the steady stream of dimly glowing speeders below. The Republic might have offended a steel bar of pride that ran through his chest, but did he love to look at it. The skyscrapers' angled metal points painted the sky with reflections of sunlight gleaming off them as the lights turned on below. It was the most glorious skyline he’d ever seen.  

A rectangle glass refresher for his rectangle glass room in a rectangle glass condo. It was gluttony incarnate. Cipher had grown up fabulously rich by Imperial standards, but he hadn’t comprehended the true uselessness of money until he agreed to play pet agent for the Republic and their starboy Jedi. The Empire concentrated money in the hands of the meritous. In theory. The mechanisms were subject to exploit, like any other system, but the Republic’s network of Trade Federations reaped money from its struggling citizens the same way he’d watched splicers scoop organs from still living donors. One could be wealthy in the Empire, but in the Republic credits stacked to the stratosphere. 

This living arrangement was thankfully temporary; when the threat resolved itself, for better or worse, he’d put down rent on the first shithole one bedroom apartment in Kaas City he could find. It made him feel less nauseated by his experiments in extravagance to know he was just burning through a windfall he neither wanted nor needed. 

Cipher sucked residual menthol from his teeth and rubbed the tightness from his shoulders one last time before holding his hand over the sensor, cutting the water flow. Hygiene didn’t take long by habit. A fastidious creature, Cipher had the added incentive of his precision obsessed father and military trauma to guide him through the simple process of cutting away excess time.

Being such a creature of habit, Cipher always left his keys in the drawer, bag on the table and shoes tucked into the hallway's closet. He left the lights off, then he was off upstairs to watch the sunset bounce off of water droplets without a second thought to the spaces he haunted. He liked letting twilights wind down to their natural conclusion before throwing on artificial florescence.

When the lights winked on today, he remembered that he’d forgotten he had a roommate. He wasn’t in (he hardly was at night until he whisked in at 3 AM smelling like men and cheap beer) and hadn’t been for months. It appeared he’d come home today only to vanish by nightfall leaving what looked like the remnants of a very Jedi sized panic attack on their coffee table, couch, and in a tight trail into the kitchen. Cipher picked up a bowl crusted with dried up noodles and wondered what the general public would do if they knew the Hero of Tython was a slob with no particular skill outside of his lightsaber.

Cipher followed the charging port wires thrown over the couch arm (miraculously not half tugged from their sockets) to the sink full of a hurriedly eaten lunch. Having just plunked down the noodles on the little cutting board by the sink, Cipher just stared into it. Dishes. With stale food. In the sink. He closed his eyes and flexed his hands as though reaching for someone’s shoulders to give them a stiff shake. It was when the old familiar ache in his jaw twinged, that he realized he was grinding molars. He opened his eyes and forced a breath between his teeth only to be greeted with the top lid of an empty Holotray dinner globbed with mash and a cardboard box peel. Cipher squealed with defeat deep in the back of his throat.

Soapy water and steam scrubbed everything away including the dull ache just under his heart that a path of mess had left. It scrubbed the frustration away, but not the clacking making its way down the hall; that was impossible not to hear over the sound of the water and Cipher’s own mental steam.

“Kurt?”

The Sith glanced up under the ridge of his brows at his deadname. The Hero with his concussion staff looked like he’d gotten into a fight with his pillow and had thoroughly enjoyed every second. Elutherius was fond of airy shirts that fell to the knees and little else, nothing else if he could get away with it, which Cipher usually let him. The Navy had made him unshy about holding conversation with nude participants - frontal or otherwise. The white coarseweave Elutherius wore now billowed down over his thighs. A stray sleeve had drifted partway down one of his broad shoulders. The looseness had a softening effect on his hard physic so that what Cipher would normally class as “wiry” became “slim.”

“When’d you get home?”

“Last night.” Sleep cracked his voice.

Cipher paused a moment to let the running water fill the silence. “Don’t you have a cane?”

“Couldn’t be bothered…” Elutherius flicked his wrist as though alluding to the presently horrified clutter that was his room.

“And how many times have I told you to clean up after yourself? Not tidy, not organize, just clean up things that are gross.”

A small smile played over Elutherius’ lips. “Define ‘gross’ Kurt because you and I have very different definitions.”

“Food waste. For one. You can’t let it sit overnight.”

“And it didn’t—” Elutherius began to sigh.

“—Or for literal hours at a time.”

“Food’s just kinda one of those things that happens when you have life; it’s not gross.”

“I didn’t ask you to live with me so you could leave food out.”

Cipher turned off the sink. Dried his hands. Straightened the towel. Listened to Elutherius clack his way around the island.

He’d asked in hopes of manipulating Elutherius out of the cult of Jedi he’d joined. It was the only way an ex-Imperial officer and Intelligence Agent knew how to be a friend. In truth, Cipher didn’t know what he expected from Elly. Once, when Cipher was still very young, he had been his slave, then his father’s apprentice, and now a Jedi named Friyr Illustratum. Elutherius burned bridges in pursuit of freedom that Cipher wasn’t entirely convinced he could find. Circumstance pushed them back together. He was, in essence, Elutherius’ last bridge back to the Empire. He had no illusions that Elly’s first instinct was to take up torch, but something stayed the Jedi’s hand.

He squeezed Cipher’s bare shoulder. “Mmmn, well, messy is me.”

Cipher had heard that earning the love of a Jedi was a starcrossed fate. Sometimes there were moments of weakness but it was mostly longing for an ill-gotten lover. Romantic drivel that the Republic fattened its citizens on.

Loving a Jedi felt like a man trapped by a cult into a life of servitude as a zealotous solider with a serene smile. “Friyr Illustratum” was just a former slave manipulated by dogma. There was nothing noble, sacrificing, or romantic about loving a friend captive to sycophants and his own warped mentality. It was just sad. Irrevocably sad.

“What do you mean it’s you?” Cipher huffed as he plucked up the lid and trash and threw them into the bin.

“I mean, like. When you used to live with me I was a servant. You weren’t living with me as a person. I don’t gotta clean up after ya anymore, Hot Shot is what I’m sayin’. Get a maid.”

Cipher sighed, but his big yellow eyes softened around their hard unnatural glow. His words reflected none of that softness. “You can be yourself and have common decency for our living space without it turning into I’m Very Oppressed.”

Elutherius’ returning smile was suddenly bitter. “Not everybody lives in your world, Grimmel.”

Ah. There it was. The name: ‘Grimm little,’ shortened to ‘Grimmel’ over the years. It was his father’s Sith-given name that his mother had cooed at him when he at a very young age dedicated himself to being his father’s perfect replica. It was an ambition like that city again, perfect and precise but ultimately empty of who Cipher was. It was only Elly who saw Cipher as more than his father, and it was only Elly who could wield an old pet name with the same deadly precision as a saber.

“True maturity is knowing that actions don’t define you so long as you’re secure in your identity. Slave is all you’ll ever be if you constantly run from it.” The last thing had been unintentionally hard; these were a prelude to a fight that Cipher had felt coming the day he’d clapped eyes on the traitor.

Silence fell like a curse as Elutherius developed a case of lockjaw, but whether he’d truly lost his scathing rage the way he claimed or if a large helping of Jedi patented patience was keeping him level, Elutherius didn’t rise to the occasion. Conversation for the night was done.

Cipher turned on his heel to the hangar. He wanted Elutherius to tear into him. That he didn’t with the fervor of a mad hound rattled Cipher’s long vacant insides until he felt like he was losing his footing in a world quickly falling too far away too fast in unfamiliar skies with an unfamiliar man. It was enough to drive him to drink.

And he had been again. It wasn’t like last time when he needed alcohol to replace his guts when Elutherius had “died” on a planet that wasn’t home. It wasn’t like the days when they patronized him with an honorable discharge and knowing smiles that said “you gave having a real job a shot Rich Boy.” He just needed the edge off once in a while, and everything was okay.

The hangar was a one speeder affair. Elutherius didn’t drive and Kurt’s tiny Rendili didn’t need much pomp and circumstance. Instead, the space was filled by racks full of weapons that they said they’d use, then never had the time to take out but yet still couldn’t find a good enough excuse to get rid of. Cipher had a wall of cabinets in the far north corner overflowing with parts for his artificing hobby. The delicate handiwork had kept him up through painfully sober nights moved back into his parent’s house.

Edging around the bulk of his speeder pressed close to the sides of the already cramped space, Cipher had to pull a ladder braced on the cabinets against his chest in order to stick his arm in. He frowned. From the sliver he could see the empty bottle of Kyrf, but the 6-pack he’d been slowly depleting had left a large empty space.

“Looking for these?” Elutherius stood in the doorway, Cipher’s six-pack flagged in one hand. “You got quite the stash back there.”

Cipher stared. His chest felt strangely tight. It wasn’t until Elutherius had found him stealing in his own home that he realized how much he’d enjoyed being the one without baggage. Kurt Wax had been a young man with the world laid out at his feet. A natural leader and the anchoring point of many an operation. Cipher 9, well, he’d made a lot of hard decisions and the pay was good.

“I might be. Yes.” Kurt said. His voice echoed in the wide empty spaces.

Friyr crooked a finger and he came. He still didn’t know what he expected from the Jedi as he stood in front him, his feet shoulder width apart and hands folded behind his back. Punishment in Kurt’s world was always swift and meaningful, whether verbal or physical. He had learned young how to take his stripes.

Friyr hugged him. His strong arms pinned Kurt’s arms to their sides as the former officer’s posture stiffened rather than softened. It was an unfamiliar position for both men. Friyr had never been the type to dole out affection even as a Jedi; he handled his position with a serious kind of grace. And well, Kurt was curt.

“Uh.”

“This is awkward; isn’t it?” Friyr asked. His breath caught the edge of Kurt’s neck.

“Quite.” Friyr abruptly let go and neither looked at the other. Kurt smoothed down his tank top and faked a cough. “But it was… appreciated. Er-- Thank you.”

“Look, if you can go easy on the alcohol, I can—stop rebelling against something I was a long time ago and just be a person.”

Kurt tilted his head towards Friyr.

“Which is to say, I can clean up a little.”

Kurt was silent for a while as he watched the light behind Friyr frame him into a silhouette. “Why’re you so afraid of it?”

“Too much time on my hands makes me antsy, and I don’t want to go back to filling that being house boy again, so I do nothing. And still feel pretty awful, not gonna lie.”

“Is that why you go out all night?”

“I—uhhhh—never really thought about it like—Hold on, Wise Guy, this is about you. What’re you; some kind of drunk or somethin’?”

“Yes,” Kurt said plainly.

“Oh… Why?”

“Too much time on my hands,” Friyr snorted, and Kurt responded with a rare smile. Automatically, his hand came up to brush Friyr’s elbow since the other man couldn’t see his lips. “after you died. My story ended that day if I ever really had one to begin with.”

“What do you mean? ‘Course you got a story, Kurt.”

“No. I think I was always a part of ours. The Force has always pulled us together for better or worse. We lost people along the way--”

“—Pour one out for Draq—” Friyr muttered the ill-fated Inquisitor’s name under his breath.

“—But it’s always been you and me in the end.”

Friyr flushed pinker than the setting sun dying through their dusty hangar windows. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to kiss me?” It was an oddly vulnerable color, and although Kurt had had a few girlfriends and had never been in love, it wasn’t an objectionable idea. Not by a long shot.

Kurt leaned in and watched the Jedi’s eyes widen. His hands came up in protest before Kurt cut him off with a grin full of canine. “You wish.”

[livingasaghost]

let’s talk about marie kondo!!

okay so as we know, i already binged all of her show tidying up and i ADORED it. super calming, very informative, and just really my kinda vibe. this year 2019 is all about change for me and forcing myself to become the best version i can be at this point in time. and so far...it’s working. like, granted i’m still THE WORST and i have a lot to work out, but i’ve already seen so much difference in who i was last year and who i am now. like i feel as if i’ve stopped living in fear like i once did. i still get some small usual anxieties, but now i don’t fear cooking or setting unrealistic goals or going to the gym or whatever. more than that i feel good. like, i think the no sugar thing is definitely showing some benefits, and i totally resisted a bunch of valentine’s day chocolates at a thing the other night so I AM QUEEN RIGHT NOW. i’ve also been really trying to embrace community like seeing friends and i started going to this small group that i should’ve gone to like 2 years ago (i suck) and it’s SO GOOD. i can’t believe i let myself sink so deep into my darkness -- it truly has felt like i’ve woken up from a coma or something. for so long i convinced myself that everything was fine and that i just had some minor depressive episodes but i’m good now, and like...sure it isn’t so much depression these days, but i can tell that there was something inside me that just was not clicking. and now i’m doing almost everything in my power to rewire my brain and redo my life. and it’s ACTUALLY WORKING!!! I’M SO HAPPY!! like, i still see glimpses of who i’ve always been, but i feel like i’m better at recognizing that and making myself do things that used to scare me. i changed my phone background to “if you know you can do better, do better” and reading that every day honestly does make me reconsider some of my actions. 

all that said, now is the PERFECT time for me to read marie kondo’s book. i just finished it today (the audiobook) and i ADORED IT. probably my favorite read of the year so far (isn’t that sad??? and this is book number 17 people!!!) but i just really loved it because not only does it give good advice, but it also just gave me some new thoughts and some new hope. like i found it fascinating to think about appreciating your possessions more and organizing things that should be together all in one place and truly creating a life that sparks joy. i don’t know if the concepts will actually made me a tidy person, we shall see, but i have hope that at the very least it will give me some big changes. marie says to do your tidying in a big marathon, and right now it looks like i’m going to spend march doing that. 

even though it’s all in my head, i really do feel like i’m at a point in my life where i’ve veered so far off the path of who i present myself to be that i’m starting to go in a different direction than what i really want. like i’ve been living in this messy little cave for like three years and it’s been dawning on me that i hate it. not all of it, probably not most of it, but i think if i can tackle all these areas in my life then i’ll find some new energy. and i know we can’t control everything in our lives, but i think for me this is less about feeling “in control” and more about me just taking control for once. for so long i’ve let things go on autopilot and that is just NOT GOOD. like god has been pulling me along, but i think he could tell that i needed to take the reigns back and nothing really forced me to do that...and i think this poetry book was the thing that actually did it. like now that it’s almost over, i’m closing this chapter and i feel like my headspace is already starting to clear. i’m starting to see who i bent myself to be all these years, and i want to stand up. i want to let go. i want to breathe new life into this body. 

marie kondo just really made me feel like i can do this. i was afraid that mid-year i’d hit my usual slumpy stride where i get depressed and creatively burnt out and i don’t know what to do to be better, but i can already tell that this year is a different beast. i may still have seasonal depression in august (probably, let’s be real) BUT i think the difference between this year and the last two is that 1) i have year-long projects to occupy my time -- i’m working on cooking and going to the gym and READING 100 books, so it’s like even if i don’t want to take photos or make videos or whatever, i know i can just pick up a book. or i can go for a run. or whatever. 2) i haven’t had a major binging episode in AGES. i watched tidying up, and i watched a little of ODAAT, and i think i had one or two movie nights, but other than that i’m really just avoiding tv and movies. and i feel so FREE. like it’s still fun, obviously, but i think this year i just need to chill and take a break and not stare at my tv so much. and most of the time in the summer that is my go-to. so if i can keep up this mindset, i might be safe. 3) since i’m planning on tidying up my room, and my room is where i spend the most time when i’m depressed, this could be a really great way to cleanse the energy in there and give it new life that will sustain me rather than drain me in the summer. i’m not sure how i’m going to do it yet, but i think i need to move some furniture around, even though i’ve already changed it about as much as i can with the layout i have right now. i just think if i get a different space around me, maybe if i condense my clothes and clear out my closet and move some books around, i can breathe my space back to life and i won’t feel so trapped when the heat is suffocating in a few months. 

of course, i say all of that, but i know that seasonal depression is just a think i’ll be dealing with until i move somewhere not so hot all the time. we shall see.

in any case, i felt so much peace listening to marie’s book. i felt like someone was out there thinking about me and trying to find a way to contribute to my new year’s goals. i already feel like march will be a new year. i was also afraid that i’d give up after a few months (last year i lasted until about april?) so i think if i can trick my brain into thinking that march is ACTUALLY when new year starts (lol) then it’ll give me a few more months of motivation. and maybe it’ll just help me feel more at peace as i prepare to go abroad in april for two weeks (I CANNOT WAIT!!!! LESS THAN 2 MONTHS!!!) i’m also going to cut my hair at the end of the month and i’ll have released my book at the beginning of it, and i just feel like march will be another fresh start for my new year. 

i think to me the most interesting part about all of it is that i’m learning how to forgive myself. forgive myself for taking a break, for not doing the thing, for staying up late, for being on my phone so much, whatever. so many times i do things and i think “UGH JENNA DO BETTER” and while that is accurate and i do spend a lot of my life failing to do well, i have been doing so good lately! like it’s month 2 of 2019 and ya girl has read SEVENTEEN BOOKS! SEVENTEEN! that’s like...unreal. and i don’t feel stressed. i don’t feel overwhelmed. it’s just like...chill. like, yeah i have time on my hands of COURSE i should have read almost 20 books in two months. that’s logical. and i am stressed about other things (this stupid poetry book UGH CAN IT BE DONE YET) like client projects, but not books. or cooking. or exercising. it just...is happening. and it makes me wonder why i wasn’t just doing it all along. it makes me wonder if i will keep doing this after this year is over. i’m so bad at sustaining anything (plants, a work ethic, habits, etc) that i fear in 2020 all this growth will be lost, but i think about marie kondo saying that when her clients experience such a dramatic emotional change/connection, they have almost no choice but to embrace this new life because they never want to go back. i don’t want to take two steps backward ever again. i want to go forward. i want to believe in myself, i want to support my body, and i want a space that won’t suffocate me. 

so that’s where we’re at. 

[wolfpawn]

The Art of Survival

Chapter 5

Robert groaned as he stretched, feeling muscles and bones eek and creak as a result of lack of good diet, sleep and proper exercise. It had been almost a month since the incident with Hargrove and his subsequent meeting Fianna.

His forehead had healed with only a slight scar, which impressed him a lot and there had been no incidents similar to it since.

He was after scouring the building for food and came up with nothing substantial yet again, which was a common occurrence these days. Was it not for the daily parcels left for him on his balcony or brought to him by Toby, he knew that he would have starved long before. Every day there was something there, no matter how small. He found himself unable to cease thinking of Fianna as a result.

He walked onto his balcony and looked over the view of the other high rises and the city beyond. ‘An interesting view.’

‘Yes, it is.’ He turned around to the voice in the next balcony. ‘Dr Laing, long time, no see.’ Fianna smiled.

‘I….How did you get there?’

‘The door to this apartment is no longer able to lock.’ She explained nonchalantly.

Robert found himself chuckling. ‘Not that that would stop someone like you, of course.’

‘Of course.’ She smiled. ‘I come bearing goodies.’ She had a sort of satchel with her and a heavy bag in her hand.

‘Good etiquette dictates I invite you in.’

Fianna smirked at him. ‘Does it, now?’

‘Come around, I will open the door.’

Fianna, curious and in want of some company, walked through the derelict apartment and to the door of Robert’s home. She looked around the hallway with some anxiety, when Laing opened the door, she looked at him with a face that caused him to pause and stare at her for a moment.

‘Please, please come it. Please, make yourself comfortable.’ His voice was soft and inviting as he took her hand and guided her in while closing the door.

‘Dog?’

‘Of course, how silly on me.’ He opened the door again to let the scrawny animal in. ‘Excuse the mess.’

In times gone by, Fianna would have scoffed at the reference to his meticulously tidy home as messy but with the current world and with everyone in it being varying levels of mad, she was unsure if she was just blinded to mess by now or if he saw a mess that none other than he could see. 'Your parcel.’ She stated, looking around and holding out the heavy bag. 'There's at least two day’s eating in it.’

'Are you not coming tomorrow?’ Even though he never actually saw her in the past month, the idea that she would not be there the next day upset him. All that caused Laing to hold even a modicum of a hint of a grasp on reality at present was Fianna. He had ceased referencing himself in the third person as a result of meeting her.

'I plan to but I came across a small hoard and I cannot carry it all at once so I brought as much as I could today.’ She explained. 'I have given the most of it to the Wolves’ Lair, but that is not to say that you and I cannot have a few extra tidbits, can it?’

'Who is dead?’ Laing asked, opening the bag and taking out the food including the forelimb of a small dog.

'I was going through the floors after a successful hunt of two cats and a pigeon when I came across a most rancid odour. Upon investigation, I found a Jack Russell terrier knawing on the face of Hargrave. It was most adamant it would chew off his nose.’ She pointed to the forelimb. 'The other one was broken, I did the poor thing a favour.’ Boil the leg, you get the marrow out too. There's some bits in there to make a stew.’

'Thank you.’ Robert smiled. 'How big is the hoard?’

'Not overly. About a fortnight's worth, if you ration. But he's dead and we are hungry, so best not waste it.’

'What was the cause of death?’

'His buddy, the one of the day with you, he was there too. They seemed to have gotten into an argument and did each other in. A pack with no loyalty is not a pack that will survive.’ She commented.

'Evidently not.’ Laing concurred. He looked at the contents of the bag again and when he looked back up Fianna had walked into the other room, looking around curiously. She looked at a stack of boxes that donned grey paint, as did some of the wall, before frowning and bending down to pull out a photograph from under said copies. 'She looks like you.’ Fianna commented.

'She's my sister.’

'She is pretty.’ Fianna noted the tape at the back of the picture and placed it on the wall.

'She died.’

'Haven't most people.’

Laing did not know how to respond so he watched as Fianna walked over to his notes. 'You seem to be running out of paper.’

'I am.’

'I can get you more?’

'Could you?’ She smiled and nodded. 'Please.’

'I will bring it with me tomorrow. So what is the….I see.’ She scanned the notes. 'Trying to make sense of this, Mr Laing?’

'Perhaps.’

'Do you think people tried to make sense of the Fall of Rome?’ Fianna pondered aloud. 'In the midst of the chaos, do you think, perhaps, that there were men and women watching as society fell apart and tried to make sense of it all? I do.’

'It is human nature to try and make sense of things, is it not?’ Robert questioned. 'I dare say they did.’

‘Do you think perhaps that is what is afoot here?’

'The disintegration of society?’ She nodded. 'I am not sure, it seems to be similar in ways I suppose.’ Laing studied Fianna as she spoke and walked around his home. He found himself obsessing with paying attention to minute details about her as he did so.

'Thatcher blames socialism and communism.’ The pair looked through a hole in the ceiling to see Toby above them in his old bedroom. 'That they are inherently evil.’

'Toby, contrary to those who indoctrinate and are indoctrinated in capitalism believe, Socialism and communism, like capitalism are merely political templates, they cannot be evil because they are not capable of being such, what is evil is when people altar them to fit a political agenda that is. What is evil about people being given equal, or people getting an honest day's pay for an honest day's work, or that everyone can have healthcare. Or even rewarding those who work hard with money for doing so? They are not evil, the people in fancy offices using those politics to make themselves wealthier, however, that is.’ Fianna argued. 'What else is the witch saying?’

‘That people should police themselves back to normality. That we need to sort ourselves.’

'Shocking, where is she?’

'America.’

'Of course she is.’ Fianna growled. 'The bitch.’ She turned and walked out to the balcony and began a fire. 'Do you have a pot?’ Laing retrieved one. She worked on the food for a time without saying anything. When it was simmering she turned to leave. 'I need to move the rest of the food before someone else gets it. And lay a few traps.’

'I can help.’ Laing offered.

For a moment, Fianna contemplated saying no, but with a lot to do and limited time, she agreed. 'Toby, get down here and make sure dinner does not burn.’ She instructed.

'Can Dog stay?’

'Sure.’ She shook her head and walked out, Laing in tow.

'What sort of traps?’ He asked as they made their way to the stairwell.

'Animal traps. They tend to feast on carcasses, so we trap them.’ She explained. 'We need to stop on twenty and grab a few.’

Laing did as ordered throughout the situation, asking as they went, Fianna taking time to teach him as they went. When they got to Hargrave’s apartment, the door was as Fianna has left it, the stench of rotten flesh still being emitted from within. She walked in warily, both checking to see if they were alone, upon ascertaining that they were, they let their guard down. He looked at the bodies of the two men and concurred with Fianna, they died from fighting one another. 'HA!’ He snapped into Hargrave's face. 'I win.’

Fianna said nothing and worked at getting the food she has not yet moved ready to leave.

'He has loads of beans.’ Laing pointed to the stack of cans in front of him. 'Why was he taking mine?’ He walked over to Hargrave. 'You didn't need my beans.’ He shouted at the corpse.

'Robert, stop arguing with him and get these beans out of here.’ Fianna ordered as she set her traps.

Laing did as instructed and grabbed all the food he could carry. They striped the room bare of everything of use. As the left, heavily ladened with their load, he turned to Hargrave one last time. 'Now I am stealing your beans.’ He chuckled manically as they left the room.

They made their way slowly up the stairwell again, their bodies unhappy with the sheer weight they were forcing themselves to carry. They got to Laing's floor before meeting someone again.

'Laing, having company I see.’ Came a nonchalant, almost polite voice, though there was clear menace in it.

'Steele.’ Robert gave as polite a smile as he could.

'Mr Steele, how are you today?’ Fianna smiled. 'I have something for you.’ She rummaged through her satchel before pulling something out. 'You were looking for this, if I recall.’

Seeing the dental care products in her hands, Steele beamed. 'Excellent. Thank you.’ He took them and eyed their other bags.

Laing gripped his tightly. 'Would you like some beans, Hargrave got done in so I took his.’ She handed several tins to Steele who said nothing else and walked off, elated with his new acquisitions.

'You just gave them.’ Laing stated, appalled by her actions.

'If I did not, he may not let me pass next time. I told you before, I bribe to get around. And you need to keep him on side, it's odd to see men share a floor, usually you all just kill one another.’

'We are not some sort of animals.’

‘I know, animals have more decorum.’ she licked her teeth as she looked at him.

As was the situation any time Laing took a moment to look at Fianna, his obsession with her grew. He was about to all but pounce on her when the door to his apartment opened and Charlotte came out.

'There you are. Come on, I found wine.’ She chirped half drunkenly.

Robert looked at her for a moment before looking back at Fianna, his mouth open slightly. 'I…’

Fianna walked forward, her eyes focused on Charlotte. 'Dog.’ She called into the apartment.

'That thing would make a good dinner.’ Charlotte stated.

'Hurt my dog and I will kill you, Bitch.’ Fianna snarled as Dog trotted out to her. She walked past Laing without another word and out to the stairwell.

'She really needs to have a good shag.’ Charlotte laughed as Laing came to the door. 'Pity you can't help her there.’ Laing looked at her in confusion. ‘Rumour has it that she is not attracted to men. According to her old neighbour, in her year here, not once did she have a man come to the flat and she never stayed away outside of the nights she was working. It shows, I bet she's a virgin to boot.’

That was the last thing Laing needed to consider, his obsession for her intensifying. He thought of Fianna again and one word came to his mind. “Mine.”

[artificialqueens]

love is madness | katya x adore - DanFin

This is a weird thing I thought I would write. It took about a week to finish. By the way, it is named after the song, “Love is Madness” by 30 Seconds to Mars feat. Halsey. I hope you all enjoy this! :)

“So, Katya, when did your anxiety worsen?”

Katya shifted uncomfortably in the maroon, leather seat. She looked down at her lap. She didn’t feel like having this conversation. Not today, at least. Mrs. Willow, her therapist, always wanted her to elaborate on this uncomfortable topic. She looked up at Mrs. Willow. “Um… I… Uh…”

Mrs. Willow looked down at her notebook. She then looked back up at Katya. “Take your time.” She smiled at  her.

Katya gulped and looked down. She knew what worsened her anxiety: moving and coming out. She had moved to Azusa, California about a month ago with her mother and brother.

During her first week in Azusa, she met a literal goddess named Adore Delano. Everything was perfect about her; from her body to her infectious joy. Since Katya was really struggling with her sexuality when she met Adore, realizing how attractive the younger girl was frustrated her an ungodly amount.

“Katya, is there a reason you can’t tell me what worsens your anxiety?” Katya flinched at the sudden sound of Mrs. Willow’s voice. She didn’t know she’d been thinking about it for so long. - Or if this therapist was just very impatient. - Either way, she knew she would have to spill her guts or else.

“M-May I write it down?” Katya asked hopefully. Writing it down would be so much easier than saying it out loud.

“Of course,” Mrs. Willow replied. She handed Katya a pen and a blank sheet of lined paper. Katya took the cap off of the pen and began to write;

What triggers my anxiety really bad:

- moving away from all my old friends

- my sexuality

- coming out

- maybe other things? these are all I can remember right now

Katya put the cap back in the pen and slid the paper back to Mrs. Willow. Mrs. Willow read over the list carefully. Being the open-minded woman she was, she wasn’t the least bit bothered by the fact that Katya was confused about her sexuality. Since her own daughter had these struggles, she knew she’d be able to help Katya.

“So, when did you move to Azusa?” Mrs. Willow asked.

“One month ago,” Katya replied.

“And about your sexuality; how do you feel about it? You do not have to answer if you do not want to,” Mrs. Willow assured her.

Katya looked up and made eye contact with the therapist. She finally realized how beautiful and nice her therapist actually looked. It helped her feel more comfortable with talking to her. “I, I think I’m bisexual. At the same time, I think I’m lesbian. I don’t know if my parents will accept it or not since we’re, well they’re, Catholic. I personally do not believe in God.”

Mrs. Willow nodded. “Do you feel like a boy trapped in a girl’s body? Are you comfortable with the sex you were assigned at birth?”

“Yeah,” Katya replied with little thought. “I am a woman. I know that. I’m just… struggling with my attraction towards other women.”

Mrs. Willow wrote a note down on her notebook. She was proud of Katya; the teen had finally started talking to her after four weeks of unsuccessful sessions. She hoped this would help map out Katya’s road to recovery. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?” she asked.

Katya shook her head. “No.” She had talked enough for today. Mrs. Willow understood. She bid her goodbye and gave her permission to leave.

Katya happily exited the therapist’s office and walked out to the waiting room where her parents were. Katya’s mother perked up at the sound of her daughter’s footsteps. - They were the only ones in the office; who else could it be? - She smiled when she saw her daughter. “How’d it go?” she asked.

“It went…okay. I just wanna go home now.” Katya replied. Her mother nodded and stood. She walked to the receptionist’s desk to get the date for Katya’s next appointment. It was one week from then. Her mother thanked the receptionist and they exited Lifeskills  (the building).

-

Katya mentally cursed her science teacher. Yesterday, she found out that the class’s task for the end of the last nine weeks of the whole school year was to create something to tell new students what they could learn. They had to work in pairs. Katya swore the teacher knew about her obsession with Adore since, coincidentally, she was partners with her out of the thirty kids in that class.

So, Katya was fuming.

She didn’t want to be around the gorgeous party animal right now. Not while she was having a sexuality crisis.

There seemed to be two voices in Katya’s head. One that said: Okay, Katya, face it; you like girls. No, you LOVE girls. You’d happily sleep with a girl instead of a boy. Accept it. While the other said: You. Are. Straight. You. Like. Boys. You’re confused. Liking girls is just a phase. Besides, Adore has an androgynous style; of course you fell in love with her. She has the best of both worlds. It was all so confusing and frustrating.

Katya sighed as she dragged herself to science. She hoped Adore would be absent so she could work alone today. Better yet, hopefully Adore would to go to Allen Academy for the last nine weeks so she could work on the project alone the whole time.

Unfortunately, neither of those were happening. As soon as Katya walked into the classroom, she saw Adore. Adore was having a conversation with Courtney and Trixie.

“And, she’s here!” Trixie exclaimed as Katya sat down beside her. Katya kept her eyes down. She felt intimidated.

“Hey, Katya, what’s wrong?” Courtney asked. “You’re usually a real chatterbox before class begins. Well, you are when I’m around.”

“Yeah, she is.” Trixie added. Katya glanced up at Adore. Adore was looking at her. She felt her cheeks heat up. She was certain she was blushing.

Trixie noticed her best friend’s blushing and, dare she say, timid behavior. “Looks like someone has a crush!” she blurted out. “And that someone is close by.”

Katya felt anger surge through her veins. “No, I fucking don’t!” she protested. “I am straight! I like guys! Not girls!” She never really mentioned to Trixie that she was bi-curious or lesbian; why would she make such assumptions?

“Oh, Jesus, sorry…” Trixie felt guilty. She knew she probably struck a nerve. She knew Katya’s sexuality had been a sensitive topic for awhile now, even without it being addressed.

Katya sighed. “It’s okay.” Before the conversation could continue, the teacher, Mrs. Del Rio, silenced the class. She told the class good morning, even if her morning hadn’t been so grand. She then explained the project before telling them to split up into their pairs.

Katya moved to the seat beside Adore. She knew she would have to talk now. She couldn’t be silent forever. Participation and teamwork were 30% of the final score.

“So, you’re Katya?” Adore asked, resting her head on her hand. She was intrigued by the smaller girl.

“Yeah,” Katya replied. “And you’re Adore?” She hoped Adore wouldn’t recognise her as the blonde that was staring at her the first week they met.

“You look familiar. You’re the girl that moved into my neighborhood a month ago, right?” Adore questioned.

“Correct.” Katya felt that her cover would be blown within the next few seconds.

“That’s great! That means we can work on this project at either my place or your place, too.” Katya felt herself let out a breath that she didn’t realise she was holding in. Adore didn’t really recognise her yet.

“We did meet the first week I moved in, remember?” Katya asked.

“Of course. Now we need to work on the project. We do not want Mrs. Del Rio to catch us off task.” Adore lowered her voice so only Katya could hear. “She’s like the fucking Devil. She’ll make your life a living Hell.”

Katya nodded, even though she could hardly believe Adore. She always saw Mrs. Del Rio as motherly, not evil.

-

By the time Katya had another meeting with Mrs. Willow, she had figured a few things out. She had become comfortable with the term “bisexual.” She knew she loved girls. She knew she loved Adore. As time passed, she had gotten comfortable around her. She could actually talk to her now.

“So what should we talk about today?” Mrs. Willow asked as Katya sat down in the leather chair.

“Well, I got to talk to the girl that made me question my sexuality today,” Katya replied. She felt proud of herself. She actually carried out a good conversation with Adore.

“That’s great!” Mrs. Willow cheered. “Have you come to any conclusions yet or is it still too soon?”

Katya thought about it; as she said, she loved girls. There was no denying that. However, she couldn’t say she was lesbian. She still had slight attraction to a guys every now and then. Bisexual sounded like a good term to her. “I think bisexual is an appropriate term for now. I’m still testing it out. I’m scared to come out to my parents. I don’t know how they’ll react,” she explained.

Mrs. Willow placed her hand over Katya’s. She knew her daughter had similar struggles. “Just know that they will love you, no matter what. You’ll always be their daughter.” Every word she said was true; no matter what Katya identified as, she’d always be a Zamolodchikova.

-

“We’ll meet at your place, okay?” Adore asked. “Okay. Is 4 PM okay?” Adore nodded. Then, she and Katya had to depart. They had only one week left for the project. Luckily, they were almost finished. They just had to list their sources and score it themselves.

Science was Katya’s last class of the day. So, she walked out to her locker with her head held high. She quickly put in her combination and out away her things. She made sure her phone was in her pocket before closing her locker. She was not leaving her phone at school, overnight, again.

She walked towards the school’s exit quickly so she wouldn’t be stopped by anyone. She had to get home and tidy up her room before Adore came over. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by having a messy room while a guest was over. (Especially when the guest is someone she is in love with.)

Katya decided to walk home instead of riding the bus. Riding the bus took about twenty minutes longer. It was a loud, chaotic place, too.

She made it home in about twenty-one minutes. She had to tell her mother and brother that Adore was coming over tonight. Her mother was aware that Adore would have to come over one night so they could complete the project. She didn’t know when, though.

“I’m home!” Katya called out as she opened the front door. She took her shoes off and put them beside the door. She walked to the lounge room and saw her mother sitting on the couch. “Adore is coming over tonight to help finish the project,” Katya said. “That is okay, right?” She hoped her mom would say yes. It was a bit too late to back out now.

“Of course. I told you she could come over on weekdays as long as you two were working in something for school,” her mom replied.

Katya smiled in relief. “I gotta go clean my room. If someone knocks on the door, can I answer it?” Her mother nodded in reply. Katya smiled and ran towards her room. Luckily, there wasn’t a sign of her brother. She had a feeling he would find Adore attractive and try to flirt with her.

Katya opened her bedroom door. It wasn’t as messy as she thought it was. There were just dirty clothes laying around the floor and her bed needed to be made up.

So, she gathered the clothes and took them to the bathroom. She put them in a basket along with the other dirty clothes. She then went back to her room and made her bed up. By the time she was done, it was 3:30 PM. She had thirty minutes to waste.

-

Katya heard her mother calling for her. She got off of her bed and walked to the lounge room. When she heard the knock at the door, she walked to it. She opened it and saw Adore standing there.

“Hello,” she greeted. “Come in.” Adore gladly accepted the invitation and stepped into the house. Katya closed the door behind her.

“Mom, this is Adore. Adore, this is my mom,” Katya said, motioning towards each woman as she said their name. Mrs. Zamolodchikova smiled at Adore.

“Hi,” Adore said. “As you probably know, I am Katya’s science partner. I’m just here to help her with our project.”

“Okay. You two behave. Don’t cause too much trouble,” Mrs. Zamolodchikova said.

“We will. We won’t be a bother at all,” Katya replied. Her mother knew she was telling the truth. Katya hadn’t lied to her in awhile.

With that, Katya and Adore went to Katya’s room. Their project was a slideshow of everything they had learned through the year. “Make yourself comfortable,” Katya told Adore. “I still have to turn the laptop on and login.” Adore sat on Katya’s bed while Katya sat down at the small desk in the corner of her room. She turned on the laptop. She had to logout of her personal account and into her school account.

“You’ve got a nice place,” Adore said. “And your mom is really nice, too. You told me you had a brother; where is he?”

“Probably being a jackass with his friends,” Katya replied. She wondered why Adore wanted to know where he was. Perhaps she just wanted to meet him? Maybe she was attracted to him?

“So, is your relationship with him okay?” Adore asked.

“Yeah. I mean, he once peeled me off the ground like a sticker after I had vomited. That takes true love,” Katya explained.

“Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious. I’m really close to my parents and siblings. I want to know if I’m the only one or not.”

Katya smiled in relief; Adore had no real interest in her brother after all. Adore was interested in Katya’s life.

Katya glanced back at the laptop. The webpage had loaded. So, she went Google Slides and clicked on the project titled: Mrs. Del Rio’s Science Class. Adore moved to Katya’s side. Katya felt a bit nervous since Adore was beside her; it was a feeling that she would never shake.

“This looks good,” Adore says. “We just have to site our sources.”

“Which is easy. We just have to list the science books and Mrs. Del Rio’s “brilliant” mind,” Katya added. She quickly typed the title of the science books and their authors. Then, she added: “And of course, the brilliant Mrs. Del Rio.” She and Adore decided to suck up so they had a chance at getting extra credit points.

“As for scoring,” Adore began once Katya had finished typing, “I think we got an eighty-nine out of one hundred. What about you?”

Katya nodded, “I agree.” The two feel silent. It left Katya to think. She really wanted to say something to Adore now. She really wanted to kiss her, too. She caught herself staring at the younger girl’s lips and blushed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She just imagined kissing them and sinking her teeth into Adore’s bottom lip. Wait, does that make me weird? A creep? Katya thought to herself. She hoped it didn’t. She also hoped Adore didn’t notice her staring.

However, Adore did notice Katya staring at her. It confused her a bit. “Hey, Katya, do you need something?” she asked. “You’re just starting at me… What’s up?”

Katya felt her cheeks heat up due to embarrassment. She had been caught. “Oh…sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She knew that was a lie, but she didn’t want to sound suspicious.

“It’s okay. If you ever want to talk about something, I’m here. I don’t judge,” Adore assured Katya.

Oh, you would if I told you this… Katya thought. She took her eyes off of Adore and they went back to the laptop. She sent their project to Mrs. Del Rio. She then logged out and shut down the device. She could sense Adore watching her. “Look who’s staring now,” she said as she glanced at Adore.

“Sorry, but I like you,” Adore said, which made Katya’s heart flutter. “And I noticed your fast, almost scared, movements. What is wrong?”

How could Katya tell Adore that she was hopelessly in love with her? She loved everything about the younger girl. Adore had the voice of a siren and the body of a goddess. How could one not fall in love with her?

“Well, uh, Adore… I like you, too,” Katya began. “But in more than a friend way. More like… Romantic? I guess?” She didn’t want to admit that she actually formed a sexual attraction towards Adore rather than a romantic one. Katya studied Adore’s face. She didn’t look disturbed or shocked. She didn’t seem bothered at all. “So, how do you feel about that..?”

“I had a feeling you did,” Adore replied. “You’ve always been quiet and awkward around me. It’s adorable, really. I have to admit, I’ve taken a liking towards you, too.”

Katya felt giddy; Adore liked- no, loved her back! Adore actually shared the same feelings! The blonde was speechless. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to mess up this euphoric moment.

Adore smiled at Katya. Adore got closer to her. She looked into her eyes. Katya tried to look away, but couldn’t. She was practically hypnotized by Adore’s emerald green eyes. She soon felt Adore’s warm breath against her lips. She knew what was about to happen; she knew Adore was going to kiss her. She didn’t know how she would react.

She soon found out. Adore gently pressed her lips against Katya’s. Katya quickly kissed back. She felt all of her nervousness and embarrassment fade away. Now, she was elated. She was in a state of nirvana.

Adore pulled away first. She was smiling. Katya was smiling, too. Both girls enjoyed the tender, loving moment a lot. “So, Adore, will you be my girlfriend?” Katya asked.

“Yes, of course,” Adore replied. She and Katya shared another quick kiss. The two had a short conversation before Adore had to go home. Katya was sad to see her go, even though she knew she would see her at school tomorrow.

Once Adore was gone, Katya felt silly about all the worry she had put herself through for the past few months. Adore had loved her all along. She had no reason to worry and wonder. She was once an anxiety filled mess, but now, she had the best girlfriend in the world. She would never, ever let Adore think otherwise.

[abutterflyscribbles]

Art School AU: Part 12

Part 11 and Ao3

I gotta, gotta believe I can more then survive Still one trick up my sleeve We're gonna make this one shine I... I'm at the edge of my life I got no time to think twice When I'm standing with the weight Of the world on my shoulders I... I'm gonna fight the good fight Cause i, I know I'll get by When I battle every day through the pain Like a soldier Just don't look down And you'll never fall

“Don't look—don't look at the—”

Don't look at the board. Don't look at the pictures. Don't look at me, don't see how broken I really am. Because if you do you'll be like everyone else. Pitying the broken doll with the cracks in her china face. Cracks in her heart.

No one would ever know anything happened, darlin', Roland had said when Marianne confided in him about the accident, her injuries, the surgeries. He had tapped the underside of her chin, tilting her face up so he could better search her face for flaws. Marianne had been tight with fear, watching Roland's face in turn for disgust or pity, praying that her makeup smoothed out any possibly traces of the accident.

Roland had rewarded her with a relieved smile, “No one would ever know what happened, darlin'.”

No one would ever know anything happened.

That day was just erased, never spoken of. Best forgotten. Marianne had woken up one day into a world where her mother, Maeve Woods Summers, had never existed at all. Every picture, every memento, packed away, her daughters snatched away across the country, away from all reminders of her. Marianne's scars were tidied away and sometimes she doubted she had ever been hurt, that it all wasn't part of a monstrous dream.

But nothing had been able to remove the scars inside her, even if they were ignored. Sometimes she wished her skin was still marked so that her pain and anger would be visible and everyone would see how much she hurt. Only the faintest shadows remained on her body, traces that you could only see if you knew, if you were looking.

“It's my fault,” Marianne said to Bog, a detestable quaver in her voice, “Dawn saw—my fault—Dawn--”

Dawn was never supposed to know. To see the consequences of that car wreck. Marianne couldn't save her mom, couldn't save herself, but she thought she could save her sister. But, as it always was when it came to the most important things, Marianne failed.

“She's okay. She's inside. She told me to find you.”

Bog was standing over Marianne, cupping her face in his hands, blocking out everything but his face and his voice. Marianne tried to turn her head, see the board. Bog wouldn't let her.

“I have to—to take it down—this is my fault!” Marianne grabbed his hands, some fleeting thought of shoving him away occurring to her. Instead she clung to his hands, afraid that somehow he was going to disappear. All the good things in her life seemed to do that.

“No, no it's not, tough girl, it's not your fault.”

Bog's thumb wiped across her cheek, brushing away the tears. Again and again until Marianne realized he was tracing one spot over and over again.

Her scar.

The facial wound that the doctors had paid especial care to. Sewed up with delicate stitches, applied ointments, injected things, until there was only the faintest ghost of a memory of the ragged cut. It didn't even show at all when she was tanned, and was marked only barely when she wasn't.

But Bog was gently following the path of it with his thumb.

“It's cold out here,” he said, his voice steady in a spinning world, “Let's go inside. Okay?”

Marianne nodded.

Walking inside took forever, an agony of eternity when Marianne just wanted to run. To scream. Throw herself into a wall and pound on the concrete with her hands and feet until broken skin and cracked bones drowned out the memories and feelings that were overwhelming her.

This was Roland.

It had to be Roland.

This was her fault.

She'd been so confident, felt so untouchable. Daring him to lay a finger on her. If he did she would lay him out flat on the pavement. She'd been so sure he could never hurt her again, not like he had, not the kind of hurt that ripped out the foundations of your world and left you sitting in the ruins. Her heart, her soul, they were safe from him.

She had been so wrong.

And she wasn't the only one paying the price of her recklessness.

“Dawn . . .?”

“Dawn's okay,” Bog said, his arm around her, taking so much of her weight she wasn't sure if her feet even touched he stairs.

A door opened and warmth replaced cold.

“Dawn's fine,” Bog said again, guiding Marianne to sit down in one of the benches that lined the hall outside the classrooms, “Are you okay, Mari? What do you need?”

What did she need? She needed to pull herself together. Wipe away the tears that streamed down her face, stand up and deal with the situation. Stop sitting there, helpless. Pathetic. Trapped.

Trapped in her seat, calling for her mom.

She must have said something, or started crying harder, because Bog hugged her.

He hugged her carefully, kneeling on the floor in front of her seat, giving her the space to push him away, to show what she wanted or needed.

Seconds later she was half on the floor and half wrapped around Bog's neck, her hands grabbing up fistfuls of his gray hoodie, still touched with cold. She was crying into the crumpled folds on his shoulder. It was gross, messy sobbing. It was ugly and full of pain. There was no control. Control was so important to her. Over herself. The world was beyond her but she had power over herself and she chose to be strong. To be seen as weak was something she hated. By enemies, terrible, but it was far worse to have your weakness seen by someone who mattered. Someone important. But, inside the protection of Bog's arms she felt safe. Safe enough to let the messy tangle of emotions run their course instead of trying to smother them. Bog was rubbing her back, rocking her gently back and forth, being there until the storm passed.

“I'm getting you all gross,” Marianne whispered when the tears started to run out. She spoke to test if she could keep herself together enough to fall back into rhythm with the turning of the world. To test if the world was indeed still turning.

“Luckily,” Bog said, his voice right by her ear, “I am naturally gross so any additional grossness won't show.”

He was being funny. A little bit of normality that was helping to bring everything back into balance. Their personal world that spun to the rhythm of bantering and bickering. It was still there. All the years between that one and this were lining themselves up and reminding Marianne that the world she lived in now would not be shattered so easily as the old one had been.

“Do you want to go home?” Bog asked.

“I've got classes--”

“Do you want to go home?”

“. . . yeah.”

“Okay. I'll call security about the bulletin board and Plum about missing classes.”

“I should--”

“Get your hands cleaned up.”

“You aren't the boss of me,” Marianne sniffled into his hoodie.

“No, but Dawn is. She went to get your car and told me not to let you go anywhere. I think she would like you to be home with her today.”

“Okay.”

A few electronic notes notified Marianne that Bog had received a text.

“Dawn's outside with the car,” Bog said after glancing at his phone, one arm still around Marianne, “Ready to go?”

“In a . . . in a second.”

She didn't want to move. Her pain and tears had been exhausted for the moment and she was floating in an uncertain absence of feelings. She was warm and Bog was right there, bony and uncomfortable to hug, but just where she wanted to be right now. She felt if she moved from this safe spot all the memories would rise up and crash down on her again.

“Take your time, tough girl.”

A few snuffling breaths later a thought occurred to Marianne, “I thought you lost your phone.”

“Somebody found it. Girl from your painting class found it this morning and shot my mom a text. I got here early to pick it up before I headed to work.”

“Oh. Good. I'm glad that . . . you found it.”

That you were here.

Marianne declined to be carried, but decided that a piggyback ride was acceptable.

“I'm sorry I hit you,” she said, arms around Bog's neck, the world gently rocking as he walked the length of the hallway.

“Oh, that? Thought that was a strong breeze.”

“I can kill you from here, you know.”

“What, is that a wrestling move? The deadly baby koala bear hold?”

“I can snap your spine in one move. Or, better yet, tickle you.”

“If you even try I will throw us both down the stairs.”

Dawn was waiting for them in the car. She gave a little wave, but Marianne could see Dawn's face was splotched red from crying. Guilt rose up and choked Marianne again. It mixed with panic at the sight of the car, Dawn buckled into the driver's seat and looking out like their mother had, waiting for Marianne to pound down the front steps and jump in.

Marianne slithered down and grabbed the railing of the steps up to the building, bending over and trying to breathe while she gagged, sick with panic.

“Driving isn't happening right now,” she said in the small space between wheezes.

“It's a long walk back to your apartment,” Bog put his hand on her back, waiting for her to catch her breath, “Do you want to try?”

“Gallery,” Marianne thought of the safe haven of the gallery. A world she had built with paint on a foundation of wood and canvas. There were Bog's pieces too, a small, comfortable forest of sheltering metal leaves, “Still need to finish setting up.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Bog's tone indicated his skepticism that they would get any work done, but he exchanged a few words with Dawn and Marianne heard the car drive off.

Marianne folded her arms tight around her ribs and began to march in the direction of the gallery, willing her shaking legs to keep up a decisive stride. Nothing mattered except walking. Put one foot in front of the other, listen to the rhythm of her boots on the pavement. Shallow breaths, swallow hard against the bile in her throat, shrink the world down until all it held was the stretches of pavemented and asphalt between her and the gallery. There was just enough space in that narrow world to accommodate Bog, who pulled her to a stop before she blindly charged across the street and into early morning traffic, whose hand she somehow ended up holding in a death grip.

Bog wished there was something he could do. Marianne was hurting and he could barely offer her a few vague words of comfort and some inane wisecracks. The awfulness of the bulletin board and its effect on Marianne were just too big for Bog to face directly. He slipped sideways, barely looking at it out of the corner of his eye, and made jokes to cover the sound of Marianne's shaky breathing.

Talking made his face hurt. Marianne's wild punch had caught him square on the jaw and the metal taste of blood was still in his mouth. She hadn't even seen him. Her eyes had been huge with panic, but still too full of those pictures to let her see him.

Bog's stomach twisted at the thought of those pictures. He ground his teeth together, making his face throb and his anger burn so hot that his eyes watered.

He was going to kill Roland for this.

Because of course this was Roland's work. There was no one else so petty and cruel, no one who would feel driven to terrorize Marianne like this. Why, though? Roland couldn't possibly think Marianne wouldn't see through this, that it would in any way bring her running back to him. Maybe it was the final twist of the knife, a parting gift of a graceless loser.

That didn't fit. Roland would be far more likely to attack Bog again.

Bog shelved that thought for later, the gallery was in sight and Marianne's stride was faltering now that their goal was in reach. Bog fumbled in his pocket for the key, but Marianne gave the door a push and it swung open. Plum must have been there to check up on things.

With a gentle shove Bog guided Marianne into the gallery entryway, a cool, white space decorated with a handful of pieces made by prominent local artists. Even now Bog had to suppress an urge to hang their jackets on a spiky plastic sculpture that occupied the middle of the room. Instead, Bog and Marianne sat on the floor underneath it, the sculpture spreading its spikes out above them like an alien tree.

They did not talk. The hum of the heater canceled out the soft sounds of the early morning. Marianne's breathing was easing and it sounded like she was falling asleep. Bog held her. It was shocking how effortless it was to have her so close. He could feel it when she started out of her doze and gripped him tighter.

“Talk. Please. About something.”

“Uh, mom's excited about the show,” Bog said, picking a topic close to hand, “She's trying to make me wear a tie.”

“Did you tell her ties don't go with your beard?”

“She's also throwing around the idea that I should shave. It isn't a beard, either. Just stubble.”

“Why are you in such denial over your beard?"

“You're right. I should accept it. Own it. Grow it out and let Dawn braid flowers into it.”

Laughter made Marianne shake in his arms. It was dragged up from her lungs and gasped back down and it took a minute for her to get it under control.

“Look,” she said, “I'm shaving my legs and wearing a fancy dress, you have to shave your face.”

“Fair enough.”

Bog remembered that this morning—which felt like it had taken place several years ago—he had worked up the nerve to bring Marianne's early Christmas gift. He pulled it out of his hoodie pocket. The wrapping paper was crushed, putting creases through the pattern of red poinsettias.

“I . . .”

As he should have expected, the comfortable intimacy vanished. Bog was all awkwardness and had forgotten what to do with his hands. In spite of this, he persevered.

“I . . . I got you something that . . . for the art show. To wear. It was going to be for Christmas but I thought maybe . . . but I don't even know if it would match . . . your dress. Match your dress.”

It would be lovely, Bog thought, if the sculpture overhead toppled down and impaled him with one of its spikes.

“Well . . . now might not be the best time . . .”

Marianne snatched the small package from his hand. She wiggled around so she could use Bog's chest as a back rest. She arranged his arm so it was around her waist. Bog took this as a sign that he was allowed to stay where he was for the moment.

The wrapping paper was shredded and discarded. The pieces were dark stains on the white floor. Inside the gift was still wrapped in its bag from the store.

“Isn't this from the fateful shopping trip with Dawn?” Marianne's lips trembled as she smiled, “Wait, is this the receipt--?”

Bog snatched it away and crumpled it into his pocket.

“That wasn't supposed to be there.”

In truth, Bog had planned to package it in a nice little box and even put a ribbon or bow on the outside. Somehow that had never happened and he had just wrapped it in some paper at the last moment before heading to campus.

The gift was dumped from the plastic bag and into Marianne's hand. It had maintained its proper shape even after the bumpy morning.

“It's just a little thing. I . . . I just thought of you . . . You don't have to like it or wear it or anything.”

Bog silenced himself by putting his hand over his mouth.

Marianne turned the small gift around in her hand. A purple flower with plastic petals glued to a hair clip. It was so shabby. Bog couldn't even imagine why he hadn't noticed before how shabby it was. Like the saddest attempt at a prom corsage in the entire history of cheesy romantic gestures. Maybe he could laugh it off as a joke. A gag gift. A cheap little nothing.

“This is perfect.”

“What?”

“I love it.”

“What?”

“This will go perfectly with my dress and . . . I love it, Bog.”

“Seriously?”

Marianne was trying to clip it over her ear. Bog took it from her. He smoothed her hair back to began to fasten the clip.

A scrape, a bump, feet slipping on the slick floor, and the creak of the gallery's back door.

The flower clip dangled over Marianne's ear, clinging to a few threads of hair, snatched from Bog's fingers when Marianne whipped her head around at the strange noises. She had jumped with such violence that it startled Bog too.

“Plum must be rearranging--” Bog began.

“She'd better not be! Not again.”

Marianne got to her feet. She was gasping for breath again. She walked into the open space of the room and started to reel. Bog's legs, tired from so much early morning walking, seized up underneath him and it took a few tries to get up and follow her. By that time she had made it to the door of the room that housed their show and was shoving open the door.

“Why can't you leave it alone, you deranged old weirdo!”

Bog entirely agreed with the question. He was equally irritated by Plum's insistence on rearranging the gallery every time they were there to make it 'better'. If she didn't take a hint and make herself scarce Bog was in half a mind to pick the woman up by the glittering scruff of her neck and toss her out of the gallery.

“Listen, Plum!” Bog banged the door all the way open, “this is our show and we'll put our stuff wherever we please! Did you get that--”

Something crunched under Bog's feet.

Whatever it was, it wasn't going down without a fight. Something stabbed through the bottom of his sneaker where it was worn out just below his toes. He slammed his hand over the light switch. For whatever reason, Plum had been working in the dark.

Light flooded the room, filling it up to the brim, making it impossible that the dark patches on the wall were shadows or any sort of trick of the eye. Bog saw the holes smashed in the wall, but he couldn't wrap his mind around it. His mind was blank. His body was numb except for the pain throbbing in his foot.

Marianne's paintings had been ripped off the walls, frames smashed, canvas sliced to ribbons. Pieces of painted color were scattered like the dead leaves of a tree in autumn. Glints of metal peeked out from among them. Slabs of splintered wood lay over everything.

The centerpiece of the room, the massive sculpture that Dawn never stopped insisting was a fairy castle, was toppled onto its side, two other sculptures smashed beneath its heavy wooden structure. It was the only thing that still had a recognizable shape. The rest just looked like wreckage from a violent storm.

A twisted piece of metal was what was stabbing Bog's foot.

He reached down a yanked it out. Blood soaked the sole of his shoe.

It was gone.

All their work. Gone.

Bog had put everything he had into that show. He couldn't count the number of mornings he had forced himself out of bed and wallowing in order to go work on the show. It had helped so much to have a goal and someone to keep him working on it. His reward for trudging through the gray days was to find Marianne waiting for him. Glad to see him. Wanting to work with him. He had worked hard to try not to disappoint her.

He had worked hard to not disappoint himself.

The show was going to be something he finished and finished well. It would redeem him from all those abandoned projects scattered through his life after his dad died. The lights would go on in the gallery, the guests would walk in, and Bog's life would start again. Fresh and new. He would be okay and this time it would stick.

Next to him Marianne had dropped to the floor. The clip had lost its tenuous hold and dropped onto the wreckage of a twisted piece of wire mesh. It tumbled off the mesh, caught for a moment on a splinter of wood before it fell to the floor with the barest whisper of sound.

Bog slammed his fist into the wall.

That made a much more satisfying sound. If the world was going to fall down around him he should at least be allowed to hear it crumbling. There should be roaring, thundering, and there should be pain. Like the pain of his knuckles punching the white walls, again and again until the white turned red and started to cave in and his hands were slick.

It was only when a hand touched his arm that the full measure of the pain fell on him. He gasped. A gentle touch was the last thing he expected. The last thing he deserved.

“Bog,” Dawn held his bloody hand, “Please, Bog, stop. You're hurting yourself.”

“Good.” Bog's reply was supposed to come out defiant. It sounded resigned instead.

Dawn took his other hand and he gasped again. The kindness flicked him on the raw. He had failed. He didn't get to have friends. He didn't get to have any sort of love.

“I'm sorry, Bog.” She reached up and brushed the damp hair out of his eyes, “This isn't fair. Please, come sit down.”

“I can't . . . I can't. This is my fault, Dawn. If I just left Marianne alone—”

“Boggy, please don't be stupid. Come sit down and I'll give you some coffee.”

Bog freed a hand to wipe the tears off his face. He stopped when he saw the blood all over his knuckles. He hitched the sleeve of his hoodie over the palm of his hand and used that instead, bending over to obscure his face from Dawn's sight. “W-when did you get here, anyway?”

“Just now. A little too late, I guess.”

“Where did Marianne go?” Bog found himself distressed to the point of fear when he couldn't find her in the destroyed room. He knew he should have stepped out of her life long ago, but an abrupt departure of Marianne from his was . . . It was terrifying.

“In the entryway, getting some hot coffee into her. I'm not strong enough to drag both of you at the same time so I had to do it in two trips. C'mon.”

Bog allowed himself to be led away from the scene of destruction. There was a half-formed thought in his mind that he should walk right past Marianne, out the door, and out of her life forever. Even if the damage already done could not be repaired at least he would do her no more harm.

No. He had to apologize. One last time and really mean it. Then leave.

That's what went through his head. There was some sort of faulty connection between his brain and his body because immediately upon reentering the entryway of the gallery he walked straight over to Marianne and pulled her into a hug.

She was shaking harder than ever.

“Everything . . . it's falling apart,” She choked, holding him tighter than he dared hold her, “because of me.”

“No!” Bog was shocked by the idea of it having anything to do with Marianne, “This is all--”

“Roland. Roland's fault.” Dawn said. She gave Bog a watery glare that told him he'd better not even think of placing the blame on himself. Then she gave a loud sniff and her face started to crumple. “Take care of her, Boggy. I'll be outside.” Bog caught a glimpse of Sunny when Dawn rushed out the door. It was a relief to know that Dawn was being taken care of too.

“This is not you,” Bog began again, cupping Marianne's face in his hands and guiding her eyes to his face, “This was never, ever you.”

“How can you even say that? Your sculptures! All your work!”

“Our work.” Bog pressed his forehead to hers. He wished there was some way to hold her even closer. He just wanted to keep her safe from Roland and all the poison that the man had stirred up.

“It's all gone, Bog. Everything is gone.”

“No, no, no,” Bog was desperate to comfort her, “Mari, we can fix it. We can fix this. Oh, love, please, don't think that. These—these are just ideas. The paintings. The sculptures. They're just one part, the last part. You still have everything that it took to make them.”

“No, no, Dawn saw. She saw mom. She was never supposed to see. She was never supposed to see!'

Marianne's words rose into a shriek and sobs rocked her body. Bog pressed her against himself, hoping that he could somehow hold her together with his arms alone. She was babbling out apologies and self-reproach. Bog felt like he was holding a storm-tossed ocean that happened to be contained in the shape of one small woman.

“Oh, love,” Bog murmured into her hair, “Don't think about it. Don't think about it, love. This means we get out of the art show entirely, doesn't it? Means I don't have to shave after all. Mom'll be so disappointed she won't get to chase me around the house with a razor.”

He talked nonsense until both of them could sit down and help themselves to the thermos of coffee Dawn had brought them. It was next to a bulging pink duffel bag that was bedazzled with the label: 'Unzip In Case of Sudden Feelings'. Feeling that the current occasion fit that requirement, Bog unzipped the bag. On top was a first aid kit. It made Bog wonder what kind of feelings Dawn was anticipating. Then again, considering who her sister was . . .

Marianne let her gaze rest on the sparkly pink bandaids that striped her fingers. The disinfectant Bog had used on her scratches still stung. She watched her fingers shaking, her eyes attracted to the movement. Her vision was blurring and each time she blinked her eyes stayed shut a little longer.

Of course Dawn would have Marianne's sedative prescription tucked in that pink bag. Unable to deny Dawn anything at the moment, or even look her in the eye, Marianne swallowed the pills and the peanut butter chocolate chip cookie that accompanied them. Now Marianne was fighting the induced drowsiness, dropping off for a second before jerking awake again. In those seconds of unconsciousness she caught glimpses of blood-streaked posters. Broken glass from a car window underneath the ruins of a toppled sculpture of wood. Sometimes, when she managed not to close her eyes, she saw the ragged pieces of her canvases brightening up the plain white floor of the entryway.

Every time she jolted awake she felt Bog's hand smoothing down her hair, rubbing the knot in her neck, brushing away the nightmares. Sometime between blinks Bog's hands had been bandaged too. His skin looked gray next to the bright white bandages. She did see Dawn affix a tulip sticker onto one of the bandages, and hear Bog grumble in vain against the idea.

Marianne was curled up into the smallest, tightest ball she could achieve. Her coat, or somebody's coat, was folded up on Bog's lap for her to use as a pillow. She felt very cared for. She felt guilty about that. It was Marianne who ought to be taking care of Bog and Dawn. Because of her Dawn had seen those awful things and Bog had lost all his hard work. Really, Marianne should have been able to pull herself together and power through. She should have been standing up and giving a scathing review of Roland's personal defects to the security guard and police officers she was vaguely aware of having come into existence when she wasn't paying attention.

Instead she was nearly really asleep. She'd wake up in bed, having been spared the ordeal of being conscious for a car ride. All she had to do now was let herself drift off. Which was easier said than done. Her muscles were relaxing. She could breathe again. But she didn't want to let go. She was ashamed she needed a pill to get herself under control again. And this wasn't really control, not when she couldn't even stay awake. She should have refused the medication, should have . . .

She gave a gasp when she startled herself awake again. Between one blink and the next she had forgotten where she was. Panic struggled to make itself felt through a heavy blanket of sleepiness. There was glass. Glass in her hands. In her face. She felt it under her skin when she tried to move--

A large hand pressed itself flat on her back. The pressure of let her feel there was no glass. Bog smoothed a circle over her shoulder blade, easing her from the nightmare.

“Sh, Mari. It's alright. Go to sleep.”

“Fight . . . fight me.”

“Maybe later.”

“It's a date.”

At last, Marianne stopped fighting her losing battle. She closed her eyes, voluntarily this time, and waited for sleep to take her. Before it did she heard one of the police officers trying to ask a question and Bog sternly shushing them.

“On a plane? Why is your dad on a plane?”

“This is just the worst possible thing that could happen now! He was already on a plane when he called and he's talking about lawyers!”

“Lawyers? Wait, Dawn, take it back a few steps, you've lost me, sweetheart.”

“I don't blame you! I don't even know where I am. He talked like he knew about everything that happened, but how could he know what happened? I was there and I don't know what happened!”

“Okay, glitter-angel, I need you to take a breath.”

“Only if you take one too, Sunny bunny! You look like you're about to faint.”

“Your dad scares me. When he looks at me I feel like I've just spontaneously gained a rap sheet. But that isn't important. What's important is that you're freaking out so I'm freaking out and we've really had enough freaking out today so why don't we just . . . breathe?”

“Why is dad getting on a plane?”

Sunny and Dawn froze when Marianne staggered into the kitchen. They had been talking in hushed voices but ever so often strong emotion made their volume jump up a few notches. Both of them looked so guilty that Marianne would have not been surprised if it turned out she had caught them in the middle of disposing of a body.

Marianne rubbed her cheek. “Did someone draw on my face?”

“Marianne! You shouldn't be up!” Dawn jumped forward and gave Marianne a push back toward the bedroom. “I can get you whatever you need! Are you thirsty? Hungry? I got ginger ale--”

“Stop . . .” Marianne was too fuzzy and she was almost back in bed before she could form a complete sentence, “Stop fussing! Why are you fussing? Are you okay?”

“Terrific! Great! Fine!”

“. . . are you having a brain aneurysm right now?”

“I've got the heater set up by your bed,” Sunny said, straightening out the blankets on Marianne's bed, “Tell me if it's too warm. Or not warm enough.”

Dawn fluffed the pillows and chattered on. “I cleared it with Aura that you can skip classes today—and tomorrow if you need to. Not that you are ever at class anyway. She was super understanding about everything. She's a lot sweeter than you give her credit for, you know--”

“Dawn!” Marianne gripped her sister by the shoulders and gave her a shake to silence her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! Of course!”

Marianne leveled a skeptical look at her. If Marianne looked anything like she felt then her face would stop a clock. It did stop Dawn.

“No,” Dawn drooped, “today has been . . . difficult.”

Marianne hugged her hard. Arms around her neck, fists pressed on her shoulders. A hug hard enough to hurt and that was fine. They were still standing. Whatever had happened and whatever would happen, right now at least they were still standing.

“So . . .” Marianne's voice cracked, ruining her attempt to sound casual, “did you draw on my face?”

Dawn shook her head, tickling Marianne with her short curls, “Not even a little.”

“Did you make Sunny do it?”

“Hey, c'mon!” Sunny flapped a blanket into place with a snap, “I'm not suicidal. Also, I couldn't find a sharpie.”

This caused some watery laughter that soon subsided.

Marianne held on tighter. “I'm sorry, Dawn.”

“Oh, Marianne!” Dawn matched Marianne in rib-crushing pressure, “I'm sorry. All this time you've had to carry all that, all by yourself, and to have it brought up again in this horrible, horrible way, and I never even knew--”

“You were never supposed to know!” Marianne increased the strength of her hold.

Dawn tickled Marianne's ribs, surprising her into letting go. Dawn took a step back, fists on her hips, eyes red but her mouth set in a determined line.

“Don't be stupid. I'm not a kid anymore. You did your job. You kept me safe. You took all of this and carried it alone so that I wouldn't have to . . . so it wouldn't be such a—such a big piece of me. It's never going to hurt me as much as it hurts you. But . . . Marianne, why didn't you ever tell me? It's such a big part of you and you've never let me see it! Not if you could help it.”

“It's just . . . it's just so ugly.”

The confused press of emotions made Marianne sit down on the bed. Dawn and Sunny sat on either side, each taking one of her hands.

“But you aren't.”

“I messed up.”

“Nah,” Sunny shook his head, “the one who messed up is the guy who you're gonna kneecap when you find him.”

“Well, yes, but--”

“Hey,” Sunny said, “do you know what we need here? To prove to Marianne that she's gorgeous and awesome?”

“I think I might!” Dawn said, brightening up.

“Who ordered--?” Sunny began.

“No,” Marianne sniffed, recognizing what was coming, “No! You are not five years old anymore!”

“--the Marianne and sunshine sandwich!”

Dawn and Sunny wrapped her in a hug.

“We're gonna hug all the hurt out of you!”

“I hate you all. Why haven't I killed you both by now.”

“It's because we're adorable.” Sunny suggested.

“I guess you two are kind of cute in a sickening sort of way.”

“Also stubborn. Get back in bed. We'll get you whatever you need.”

“Um . . . it's okay . . . if we stay like this for a little bit?”

It was the grogginess caused by the medication, Marianne thought, that kept her from being able to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. Dawn had been in front of her and so Marianne's thoughts had focused on her. Now that a few things had been said that she needed to say, Marianne felt a thought tickling at the back of her head.

Something was wrong. Even taking into consideration the kind of day it had been Dawn and Sunny had still be acting weird. It might have been the comforting warmth of the hug that prodded her slow brain into realizing what was missing. Someone else had held her. Kept her steady through the storm of emotions the day had rained down on her. She caught sight of their bags piled up in the hall. Bog's bag was there too.

“Where's Bog?”

It was an innocent question. There was no reason Marianne's stomach should twist up like it did. Under the fuzz of the medication she was anxious about how Bog had seen her, but that wasn't it.

Love, please.

He had . . . he had said that. He had called her . . .

“Did he forget his bag? Did he have to go to work?” Marianne asked.

“Um.” Dawn's eyes slid away from Marianne's.

“Or is he still talking with the police?”

“Yes!” Dawn answered like a drowning man suddenly thrown a lifeline. “He's still talking with the police! He should be back tonight to see you!”

“Dawn?” Marianne tried to catch her eye. Dawn suddenly found it necessary to reposition the heater. “Sunny?” Sunny's eyes darted toward the door. “What's going on? Roland didn't, like, skip town and Bog hopped on a motorcycle to hunt him down, vigilante style?”

“No, nothing like that! He's just sorting things out with the police so they can get to work hunting down Roland in a nice legal way.”

“Is Bog in the hospital or something? His hands--”

“His hands are fine. I fixed them all up for him, remember? Everything is absolutely, positively--”

“You guys are the worst liars! Where is Bog?”

“He . . .”

“They arrested him,” Sunny took up the reins, “for wrecking the gallery and planning to set it on fire.”

Chin propped on his folded arms, Bog was slumped over the table, casting sour glances at the paper cup of water that had been left for him after the cops realized Bog wasn't going to 'cooperate' until his lawyer got there.

It was a pet peeve of Bog's that in tv shows and movies no one used a lawyer when they were arrested unless they were guilty. After a few brushes with the law Bog had learned that a lawyer was a necessary part of the process, whether you were innocent or guilty. A buffer. Someone who knew how the game was played and would guide you through the rules. He even had the numbers for a few decent lawyers that he could call up when anyone from the crew got into trouble.

That was why Bog sat in an interrogation room with only a paper cup of water for company. The cops had, of course, assured him that a lawyer wasn't necessary and they were sure things could be cleared up after a little chat. Bog had told them to take a flying leap. Preferably face first into a brick wall.

He was hungry, tired, and very upset. Also starting to get a little wild with frustration because he wasn't at liberty to do anything. Track down Roland and rearrange his face in the style of Picasso, for example. Or make sure that bulletin board got cleaned up before anyone but the police saw it. Or even just making a cup of tea or something for Marianne.

He hoped she was feeling better. And wasn't worried about him. He had told Sunny not to let Marianne know, if it could be helped. There was no point making a big deal out of an arrest. An arrest was nothing. It was only if charges were pressed that things got serious.

The door opened and the cop guarding the door admitted a woman who would have been described as elderly if she didn't stand with her spine straight and shoulders back like a soldier at attention. Her manner of dress was professional, except for the red and black sneakers she was wearing.

“Hi, Janice.” Bog pushed himself up, giving his shoulders a roll and his neck a crack.

“Hello, Alan. Been awhile since I've seen you on this side of the law,” Janice Rogers, attorney at law, said, sitting across from Bog while she set her briefcase on the table, “You know I'm not doing pro bono work right now.”

She held out a hand mottled with age spots and Bog shook it. Even in the circumstances a smile twitched at his lips.

“Put it on my tab.”

Janice snorted. “How about you just put in the new cabinets in my kitchen and find out why the bathroom sink is making a funny noise.”

“It's cat hair. Pour some drain cleaner down it and stop washing your cat in the sink.”

“What's the other guy look like?” She pointed at his hands.

“Like a hole in the wall. Literally. The other guy was a wall.”

“Then we aren't here for assault charges?”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, we've got enough material to work with as it is. Destruction of private property. Attempted arson. Harassment. Stalking.”

“I'm not sure how they think I fit that into my schedule.”

“Yes, your mother told me you'd gone back to school. But everyone needs their extra-curricular activities. Maybe it relaxes you. Couldn't you have bothered to shave this morning? It would helped you look more like an upstanding citizen.”

“If I had known I was going to see you I would have spruced up. How long is it going to take to get me out of here?”

“Don't rush an artist. You should know that. I'm still getting the lay of the land. Unless we can explain away the fact that your lighter was found at the scene--”

“That had gone missing days ago!”

He hadn't even seen it in the mess. By the back door there had been cans of gasoline. And the lighter. On the ground like someone had been in a hurry and dropped it.

“I thought the infernal ferret took it.”

“Still yours, Alan. Unless there's documentation of the transfer of the item's ownership from you to the ferret.”

“Why would I have brought Marianne there or called security--?”

“I'm not the jury. You know how this works. I need to know how they see things. And from their point of view the footage they have is condemning. They're going to want to hold you on bail, based on that and the lighter.”

“Footage?”

“Footage?”

Marianne's grip on reality felt a little shaky. It was hard to concentrate and she wanted to lay down and doze thoughtlessly through the rest of the day. Instead she rubbed her knuckles into her eyes, grinding the sleep away from the edges of her eye sockets, and readjusted her grip on her phone before continuing the conversation with her dad.

“I had my suspicions, I can't deny that,” he said, “That things had become this bad? I didn't know and I'm sorry I didn't notice. I got the earliest flight and I should be there before too late in the evening, sweetheart.”

“Dad. What footage? And I've told you a hundred times about Roland! How could you not notice until now?”

“Roland? What are you talking about? I'm talking about what happened today. That man grabbing you. Dear, I've never approved of your tendency to try and solve your problems with violence but when I saw you punch that man I felt like cheering. He deserves that and ten times more after what he's put you through. That disgusting display of pictures.”

“Someone filmed--? That wasn't Bog! I didn't punch him! I mean, I did, but it's not like you think. I was freaking out, I didn't know who he was--”

“Marianne, please don't get yourself worked up. Have you got your medication?”

“Roland did this! Roland did all of this! Bog hasn't done anything but be there for me--”

“But, sweetheart, that's exactly it! He engineered this situation to take advantage of you when you were vulnerable. Please, don't think about it anymore. I'll be there soon and take care of everything. I'll make sure they don't release that man until we've got a restraining order.”

“Restraining--? Nobody is taking out a restraining order against Bog! He's my friend! My best friend! Who hasn't done anything wrong!”

“Can I talk to your sister?”

“No! You're talking to me! If you're coming here just to shove paper-thin accusations at Bog you might as well have stayed home. Who showed you this footage? Was it Roland? The Roland who has been stalking and harassing me for years? Roland who is, without a doubt, the one who plastered pictures of mom's dead body where I would see them?

“He only wants what's best--”

“He wants your money and a trophy wife to parade at parties!”

“Marianne, please, calm down, you're--”

“I'm what? Hysterical? I'm not hysterical! I'm not irrational, I'm mad! I know that isn't pretty, but it's true. I'm not having a meltdown, but if I was I have certainly earned the privilege of having one!”

Marianne grabbed the nearest pillow-like object as she paced. The object happened to be Bog's abandoned bag. She held it against her chest with one arm to soften the pounding of her heart. The bag was unzipped and sideways so a few loose tools fell out.

“I never said you were--” her dad sighed and she could picture him running his hand down his face while he gathered up his patience. “Marianne, I can't just ignore what happened and let you go on like this. Please, we'll talk about it when I get there.”

Papers were spilling out of the bag. Marianne grabbed at them, trying to shove them back inside. “You won't listen to me then anymore than you're listening to me now.” Marianne sat down on the floor so she could handle the papers one-handed without crumpling them. She glanced at them, making her sore eyes check if there was any discernable order she could put them back in.

Her own face, grainy black and white, popped out at her from the papers.

“What?” She breathed out. Her dad was talking but it was just more of the same so she took the phone away from her ear and let him run himself down. She spread the papers out around her on the floor. They were duplicates of the pictures that were on the bulletin board.

They had been in Bog's bag. What were they doing in Bog's bag?

She heard her father's tiny, distant voice saying something about cutting her tuition if that's what he had to do to get her to come home and get away from this mess. Marianne kicked the phone under the coffee table and crumpled up the pictures in her hands.

Everything she had felt that morning was swirling up around her again and this time Bog wasn't there to help. Marianne ripped the papers up, destroying the evidence, destroying the pain. The floor was covered in a red and white snowfall of shredded paper.

She scrabbled to retrieve the phone and almost shouted into it, “He's being framed! Roland is trying to frame Bog!” She forgot that her dad couldn't see the mess on the floor and that her declaration was a sudden non sequitur. It was all too real and painful for her to imagine that someone couldn't see it.

“Why do you defend this man--?”

“Because I love him!”

Marianne thought she might have shouted. Or maybe the words were just loud in her head. It was another very real thing.

“Because I love him,” this time she did whisper, “We're not dating . . . we haven't even told each other how we feel because we are two really screwed up people . . . and we're scared. And . . .”

The tears were starting again. Tears that would tear her apart and bring no relief. She was sitting in the shreds of the nightmare but it had lost none of its power. It was growing and pressing in around her. She was going to drown in it.

“I love him and I really need him right now.”

[needyrulebreakingbitch]

NYC

NYC

Click, click, click of my high heeled boots stepping across the large, empty train station at the World Trade Center. My hand was in his hand. I was wide-eyed and smiling. This, along with the hot, raw, intimate sex that we cleverly called “Fuckfest ‘19 was the highlight of my first trip to New York City. It is that moment of click, click, click that is ingrained in my memory. Just pure happiness for the first time in years, amazement at the fact that I was doing something so impulsive, and excitement about the new place I was experiencing. It was surreal, in that moment, like living in a fantastic dream. It was perfection.

47 years old and I had never been to NYC. So why not do something a little nuts and agree to go with a guy I chatted with online and met in person three, maybe four times? After 19 years of marriage and much misery, I figured why the hell not? I wanted to LIVE again and this sounded like just the thing for me.

The plan was that I would drive to Brattleboro and my guy would pick me up at the Amtrak station. I’d leave my car there, as I would take the train back the next day. We would drive down together in his car and spend one night in a hotel room together in New York City. The next day I would hop on the Amtrak train and he would go visit his friend. Short and sweet and fun!

I drove without problems to Brattleboro, but finding the station there was a nightmare! I drove around and around, finally stopping to ask a roughed up, homeless looking man where I could find it. He was very helpful. He offered to get into my car and show me...um, no thanks dude. I asked a couple more people and finally found the damn place. What a relief.

I found him and like I said, it was relief. He was standing outside of his car looking for me. I pulled up and said something along the lines of, “What the fuck? That was way more difficult than it needed to be.” He was calm and kissed me. God did he kiss me! He said, “Lets go find a place for you to park. Get in and I’ll drive.” Apparently, I couldn’t park at the station. It didn’t look like a station really. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t find it.

Found a parking garage, found the parking garage office and got my car settled finally. The real adventure was about to begin. How many hours would we be in the car together, just the two of us. We’d have to talk. We’d have to do other things than fuck. It was a real test of how we would get along. I wasn’t scared at all.

Usually when I go for a long drive, especially as a passenger, I am attentive of the world outside of the vehicle. This time, until we hit the city, I don’t remember anything but the easy conversation and frequent laughter. We talked about so much I can’t even remember what we talked about. There were no awkward silences, no uncomfortable subjects. It was smooth and natural. I liked him more and more. Fuck.

After a few hours we reached the city.  Suddenly there were lights everywhere, illuminating the dark night sky. I could feel the excitement and liveliness of the city. I think he could feel it too. He had been there before, but this first time for me was an eye opening experience. I had never thought much of visiting NYC. I love cities, Miami, Seattle, Boston. NY just seemed like it was too big and too crazy. My idea of what it would be like was much different than what I found it to be.

So, there we were in the car, driving towards the tunnel. Sitting in traffic, looking around at all the people, the lights, the cars. Listening to the uplifting and empowering music of Lizzo, music that he introduced me to. It was fitting. It was like my body knew we were getting closer to the hotel (we still had about an hour in the car to go, but that was pretty close by this time) and the building excitement of his touch was fueling the buzz of the city. I tried to touch him intimately in the car, but honestly at this point in my life I am cautious and didn’t want to cause a crash. That would be an OPSEC fail! So, I just touched him, held his hand, stroked his leg, leaned in for a quick kiss. It was everything. It was magic. It was life.

In time, we got to the hotel. It was late, but not late at all for NYC. There was plenty of time in the city that never sleeps! The hotel was in Jersey City, across the water from Manhattan. It was so beautiful all lit up. The hotel was fancy. We parked valet. The valet guy was sweet, but mistakenly referred to us as, “You and your wife.” I think I giggled and lost my breath at the same time. Married to someone who isn’t my husband? Someone who is married to someone else? Did we actually look like we belonged together? So many inappropriate questions were running through my mind. I found it funny and exciting. I have no idea how he felt about it.

We walked into the hotel and it was magnificent! It was extravagant and fancy. While he was checking in, I was leaning over a couch staring out at the skyline. I was watching the boats in the dark water, the people walking around outside of the hotel. Lit up buildings...there had to be tons of people in them. What was everyone doing? I’m here living in the moment,  I’m living. I’m feeling something. It is so much different than sitting on that shitty couch watching old western television shows. That shitty ripped couch in the messy apartment. I felt trapped, unhappy, disgusted. This was the opposite feeling. It was like being truly free. I felt like I was part of the world, part of life. It was something to live for. Something I had been missing for many, many years. Here it was right in front of me.

Well, as wonderful as the lobby was, the hotel room was even greater! I never imagined that we would have a perfect view of the New York City skyline right out of our window, but we did and it was breathtaking. We both were in awe of our luck and kept saying, “Wow, this is amazing.” It totally was. It was surreal.

So there I was, looking out the window at the view and then the touching began, the intimate, thrilling, touching of his skin to my skin, lips to lips. Right there in front of Manhattan. Exposed, but feeling free and easy. I could have cared less who saw me at that moment, enjoying life to the fullest, clothes being torn off, lips kissing every part of his body. We started on the couch. I remember sitting on his lap, just playing. That didn’t last long and we got to the bed. It was devouring time. We devoured each other in the fiery madness, the thrill of the adventure, the lust for each other. We had talked beforehand about making ourselves go out, that we couldn’t just spend all the time in bed. We did travel all this way. We had to see the city.

We got it together finally, put our clothes back on and headed out. It was still early enough to take the subway into Manhattan. I had no idea where I was going. I just followed, taking all of the brilliant scenery in. People everywhere, buzzing around doing whatever it was they do here. I honestly don’t remember the subway ride at all. I remember the station we arrived at though. It was big and empty, bright and clean. All I could hear was the clicking of my boots on the tile and the sound of the two of us talking excitedly. We didn’t know where we were going. We didn’t care. This moment felt magical and surreal, the escape I had longed for from life, even if just for a short amount of time.

We stepped out into the New York night at around 11 p.m. and all of the lights were breathtaking. By this time we were starving, so not knowing what we were doing, we just started to walk, looking for an open restaurant. The subway took us to the World Trade Center, so we walked around there a bit, but everything around it  was closed. We could only see the outside of the colorful buildings. We picked a street and walked on.

The city was huge, and by huge I mean tall! The October weather was warmer than usual and comfortable. There were many young people around, but it wasn’t crowded. The streets were clean and tidy. There was some construction work going on, but nothing was shabby. If there were homeless people, I either didn’t see them or they cleaned up well. After feeling deeply depressed for years and years, I felt like the city was breathing its life into my blood. It felt so alive and in turn, I felt alive again. I was a part of something bigger than just myself, with a wonderful sexy friend, and the feeling of falling in love...maybe with the guy, maybe with the city.

We walked on and finally found a restaurant that was open. It was on a small corner, tucked into a tall elegant building. It was a small and intimate Italian place with romantic lighting, a traditional menu, and a waiter who had a thick accent. It was perfect, just like everything else in this dream of a night. We ordered beers and shared shrimp scampi. We talked about everything and nothing, about what an amazing time we were having in this incredible place. It was bliss, but was a lot to take in and a lot to feel at such an early stage of any relationship, never mind the fact that it was an affair. Guilt...happiness...lust...fun...we knew that it would be a memory we would never forget.

After dinner, we took an Uber back to the hotel. That view of the city from our hotel room was still there, shining just for us. Our bodies lit up the fancy room until we were too tired to stay awake anymore. I tried to capture every second of it in my mind’s eye. There wasn’t an awkward or regrettable moment. I’m not sure I have ever experienced anything like it. I’m not sure that he had either.

In the morning I woke him up. The sun was rising over the skyline and my mouth was on him. The sky was a gorgeous pinky color and clear as could be. We stayed in bed until the last second that we could. Unfortunately, the night ended and the morning was here. I had to leave and he had to go visit his friend in Jersey. He brought me to the Amtrak station. We held hands as we walked around, looking for where I needed to be. There was a funny man helping people find their gates. We talked to him and laughed a ton more. I bought us coffee and it felt like we were almost a real couple for a minute. We held hands and kept our bodies close to each other. I knew neither of us was ready for it to end.

Finally, it was time for me to board my train. We kissed...oh my god that kiss! It was hot, sweet, yearning, and right out there in the open with a million people all around us. We joked that this trip ruined us for life. There was nowhere to go from this level of intensity. What could be better than this? It was funny and sad at the same time. I was walking on air though, right to my train. He smiled at me and left. It was a perfectly romantic ending to a magical trip.

**eta...this isn’t part of the story, but it kind of is. I slept for most of the train ride home. I was in a terrific mood, on cloud nine. When I got back to Brattleboro, I got off the train and walked through the city to my car. There was a busker there playing a beautiful rendition of Space Oddity by David Bowie. Why is that important you ask? Because it brought me right back down into reality. David Bowie is my ex-husband’s favorite musician and this is one of his favorite songs. Dream over!

[charlesoberonn]

Dr. Destiny #3

Dr. Destiny #1 Dr. Destiny #2

A few years a ago, a Necromancer going by the name The Enchantress has raised an army of the dead and attempted to use it to take over the world.

After her death, her army remained. No longer under her spell, the ghouls, zombies, skeletons, phantoms and ghosts started wandering the Earth aimlessly, looking for a purpose.

Dr. Destiny, a graduate Necromancer, decided to take it upon herself to return as many of the undead as she can back to the other side where they came from, and grant them peace.

Vena Destiny sighed as she sunk back into her chair and stared at the ceiling. She glanced down at her desk, rolling her eyes at the mountains of paperwork. As it turns out, putting the dead back in the ground was much easier than legally changing their undead status. At least half of Dr. Destiny’s time was wasted on verifying death certificates, calling graveyards about their missing skeletons, and removing her patients from various ‘undead lists’ posted by paranoid small town sheriffs and lazy district officials.

She was just about done with today’s mound of papers when she heard a knock on her office door. She straightened her back and shuffled to a sitting position.

“Dr. Destiny? Hello?” she heard a feminine voice from the other side of the door.

“I am not available right now. Can you not read the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign?” she seemed more annoyed than surprised. “Unless you’re a Wraith and your entire existence is pain and dark desires, you’re gonna have to make an appointment like everybody else. And I would know if you were a wraith. Their screams are unbearable.”

“I’m not a Wraith, I’m sorry.” the woman opened the door to a crack. Dr. Destiny got a good look at her. Bright red hair in two pigtails, a t-shirt and tight jeans.

Vena shuffled awkwardly in her chair, and began tidying up the unsightly pile of paper on her desk. “Oh no, no, I’m sorry. Please do come in.” she coughed, trying to hide her slight blush. “What can I help you with?”

The woman walked inside, looking around the messy office. The carpet was crooked and the cabinets filled a variety of items were dusty. She was about the same age as Dr. Destiny, but a bit taller, and looked to be in much better shape. Vena couldn’t help but stare. As the woman sat down on the other side of her desk, she quickly averted her gaze and tried to look professional.

“Well, you’ll think it’s a bit silly...” the woman rubbed her forearm. “I’m Lilac, by the way.” Dr. Destiny noticed the antique-looking silver watch on her wrist.

“I’m not gonna think that.” Dr. Destiny said with a sweet voice. “I promise, Lilac.”

“Are you sure?” Lilac said as she sat down. “Because this is a really important matter.” 

“I’m sure. Say it.” Destiny leaned in.

“What do you know about the...” Lilac whispered. “...Enchantress conspiracies?”

Dr. Destiny giggled. “Which one? The ones about how she was a government agent? The one where it wasn’t a government agent who killed her? Or the one where she was from outer space?”

Lilac blushed and frowned. “I knew you would make fun of me.”

Destiny winced. “No, no... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it... please. What conspiracy are you talking about?”

“Okay...” Lilac took a deep breath and her voice became serious. “You probably heard of it. The Crystal Shards Hypothesis.”

As she heard the words, Dr. Destiny’s spine tingled. She intertwined her fingers and leaned her elbows against the desk. “I have heard of it. I don’t know if to believe it.”

“Do you trust the government, Dr. Destiny?” Lilac asked, leaning in as well.

Dr. Destiny gestured to the mountains of paperwork on her desk. “I have a complicated relationship with government, as you can see.”

“Do you believe their official story? It’s full of holes. They never showed The Enchantress’ body. Nor did they confirm her death with a third-party Necromancer. They didn’t even raise her soul for questioning, as far as we know. They just killed her and that’s it. How realistic do you think that is?”

“I don’t know how realistic it is, but it seems a lot more realistic than the Enchantress putting her soul in a crystal before death and then breaking it, and spreading the shards around the world.” Dr. Destiny said. “If I was the Enchantress and I somehow survived my assassination, I would’ve just go live on an island or something.”

“That’s what I thought too. Until I found this...” Lilac pulled something from her pocket, it was a crumpled envelope. “It’s a clue to the location of one of the shards.”

Dr. Destiny examined the envelope. She opened it and began reading it. It was written in very archaic language, but the ink paper was modern. “Do you know who wrote this?”

“Look at the sigil.” Lilac pointed at the signature in the bottom of the paper. “It’s an order from one of her generals. The Ink Baroness.”

“Yes. I see. How do we know if it’s the real thing?” Dr. Destiny examined the paper up and down.

“Does that mean you believe me?” Lilac smiled enthusiastically, a positive change from the gloomy and serious mood she was in earlier.

“I’m considering it.” Dr. Destiny said. “Listen, if we’re going to do this, we need to do it properly.” she explained. “There’s a method to this. When a spirit is possessing an object, you can’t just pull it out of there or trap it. You need to verify three things first.”

“Presence. Identity. And intent. I know.” Lilac responded.

“If you use the wrong spell on the spirit, you could end up being badly hurt.” Dr. Destiny continued.

“Well, I think once we find the shard we could verify presence using a simple detection spell. We could then question the Ink Baroness about the identity and intent.” Lilac smiled cockily.

“You’re very knowledgeable. I like it.” Dr. Destiny smiled, blushing a little. “You know what? I think we can do it.”

“Yes!” Lilac raised her arm excitedly. “How do we start?”

“Unfortunately, with paperwork.” Dr. Destiny sighed as she pulled a few papers out of her drawer. “This is a standard expedition contract. I think it should be enough for now. We’ll hash out more details on our next meeting.” she said as she handed Lilac the hefty stack of paper.

Lilac started humming as she looked over the contract and signed her name at the bottom. She smiled as she handed the signed contract back.

“Great.” Dr. Destiny smiled before her smile faded. “Now, one last question.” her voice became serious. “Why me?”

“Well, to be honest...” Lilac blushed. “You were my first choice.” she smiled shyly. “I just thought you’d be the right person to help me find the Enchantress Shards.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Destiny said as she straightened her papers. “That’s all I needed.”

And with that, Dr. Destiny shot her arm forward and a glowing green light burst from the open palm of her hand, aimed directly at Lilac’s chest. Vena didn’t bat an eyelid as the burst of green energy penetrated through Lilac’s chest and went out through the other side, pulling a pale ghostly figure out with it.

The ghostly figure screamed, her dark echoes filling the room, rattling objects, and making colors disappear. Meanwhile, Lilac’s eyes closed and her now motionless body slumped forward in her chair before Destiny caught her.

“How did you know?! How?!” the ghostly figure snared at Destiny, her long white hairs wriggling like snakes, her tattered ethereal gown blowing in the wind.

“When you entered, I already knew you were present.” Destiny gestured towards her door. “My ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign has spirit detection magic that alerts me when a spirit enters my office.” Dr. Destiny smiled smugly. “Then you were stupid enough to give me your identity.” she showed the spirit two pieces of paper, the Baroness’ letter, and the contract. Both of them had identical handwriting. “And then you professed to me your intent.”

The Baroness screamed in agony again, Dr. Destiny’s spell binding and crawling around her like rope of green light.

“Presence. Identity. Intent. You said so yourself.” Dr. Destiny grabbed Lilac’s wrist, removing the antique watch from her hand. “This used to belong to you, I presume, when you were still alive. Nostalgic, perhaps? Seems like a fitting place to put your soul as any.” she raised up the watch and closed her eyes. The green ropes started pulling on the Baroness, dragging her down into the watch.

“No! You shall not! I shall return! She shall return!” the Baroness screamed, her voice fading away as she was sucked into the antique watch. The colors returned to the room.

Dr. Destiny walked up and put the watch inside her cabinet, alongside other possessed and mystical items. She turned her head as she saw movement from the desk. Lilac was waking up.

“Hey. I’m sorry she did this to you.” Vena said frowning.

“She was... whispering, such awful things in my ears. Making me do what she wanted... it was horrible.” Lilac said, rubbing her head and her wrist.

“Yeah. Those Enchantress types aren’t a very courteous bunch.”

“No kidding.” Lilac chuckled. “I’m sorry I made you go through this.”

“Nonsense. Hey listen, if you really wanna make it up to me, maybe go for a coffee later?”

Lilac blushed as she moved her red hair out of her eyes. “I’d like that.”