#and i severely dislike my aunt

[callmearcturus]

(smashes that No Reblog switch)

Everyone reading this who grew up poor and who is getting older, come sit with me.

You and I know what it's like to be worried about how you're gonna feed yourself and pay for meds and pay the utilities in the dead of fucking winter. When you turn the heater off during the day bc hey at least the sun is out, it might be technically 30F out but it feels like 45F if you stand in the sun, so you don't need the heater running for no reason, right. And at night to look at the clock and worry because you know that thing's been running for over and hour and you can feel the dollars being added to the bill.

There are people that you spot money for and there's people you have to learn to ask to pay you back.

When I bring a coffee in for my coworker who has been having car trouble for three weeks and he says, "thank you, honey, what do i owe you," I say "Nah, I got you, hun." Just like when I missed lunch because a meeting, I asked someone about to go on their lunch if they could pick me up a snack and when I tried to pay, they waved it off.

All of that is good and fine, we take care of each other.

However, when you perhaps live with someone who is sitting on more money in their bank account than everyone else in the house combined and they ask you to catsit and they don't leave the cat enough food so you drop 80$ buying cat food

You cannot fucking sweep that under the rug. That's not taking care of each other. That's a person who doesn't think about how 80 dollars to you is not what 80 dollars is to them. Because it's never just 80 bucks, it's 80 here and 25 there and 50 there and covering a bit of money for people shouldn't turn into a fucking line item in your monthly budget.

It is anathema and it feels shameful and it makes you feel like a monster to ask, but you need to do it.

If you don't you will be sitting, wanting to treat yourself to something that for your birthday but you don't have the money because you spent it on someone else's cat food not because they couldn't afford it but because they have never had to pick between a little treat and utility bills before.

I'm begging y'all: learn to ask.

and this year, I am gonna learn to do the same.

[delulujuls]

the other one | jacaerys velaryon

hi, here comes the 2.7k of i don't know what, really. its for sure intense, so fasten up your saddle and enjoy the ride. i enjoyed making aegon such a cutiepie in my two last shots, but this man is designed to be a menace to humanity so yeah, i believe im gonna lose it in the next shots. prepare for chaos.

summary: heart want what it wants, and y/n's heart belong to young prince from dragonstone, not to the future cruel king of westeros.

warnings: targaryen brothers being mean to velaryon boys AGAIN, aegon is such a meanie oh god, fighting, arguing, threatening with a sword, last scene is smelling a bit like a rap3, so feel free to skip it. your comfort is the most important

pairing: sister!targaryen reader x jacaerys velaryon (ft. jealous, possesive and dark!aegon targaryen)

Two young princes stood at the gates of the castle, awaiting guests. For several minutes they kept glancing at the sky, looking out for dragons. However, only the sound of wind and waves crashing against the rocks could be heard, with no indication that any winged beasts would soon appear before their eyes.

“Do you think they’ll come at all?” Lucerys asked his older brother, glancing at him. The cold wind chilled him to the bone, and the youngest of the Velaryons longed to return inside and sit by the fireplace.

Jacaerys did not get a chance to answer because shortly after, a muffled roar reached their ears, and something flickered in the low-hanging storm clouds. The heavy sky was pierced by the massive body of Vhagar, who was the first to emerge from the clouds and flew towards the beach. Close behind were Vermithor and Sunfyre, who looked dainty in comparison to those two giant dragons. Aemond, Y/N, and Aegon had arrived at Dragonstone.

Soon after, all four appeared at the castle gates. Helaena was flying with her older sister on Vermithor, choosing not to sail by ship with their mother, father, and grandfather. The youngest of the siblings still couldn't bring herself to travel alone on the back of her Dreamfyre, but felt confident with Y/N, now walking hand-in-hand with her sister towards the castle.

Lucerys took a step back, seeing Aemond and Aegon confidently striding towards them. The youngest Velaryon swallowed hard.

“I hope they don’t sit close to us,” he whispered, prompting his brother to discreetly nudge his arm.

Jacaerys smiled at the sight of the siblings. “Welcome, it’s good to see you here,” he said.

Aemond, leading the way, wore his characteristic grimace, nothing like the smile the young prince offered him. The last thing he felt like doing was feigning politeness. In silence, he merely glanced at them, bypassing them and pushing the heavy gate doors.

“My favorite, strong nephews,” Aegon said sarcastically, with a mocking smile. Passing by, he nudged Lucerys in the shoulder, who was about to turn and say something when his aunt’s voice reached his ears. Y/N smiled joyfully at the sight of Rhaenyra’s sons.

“Luke, Jace,” she extended her arms, hugging them both at once. Hearing the girl's joyful voice, Aegon glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. He thought his sisters were too lenient with those bastards.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” Jacaerys smiled, embracing her and catching the smell of her lavender-scented hair. While he sincerely disliked Aemond and Aegon, he was very fond of their sisters. Helaena was shy and harmless, often speaking little and nodding more. Y/N, on the other hand, often reminded him of his mother, unafraid to speak up or defend her position. She was also wise and very pretty, and he was genuinely pleased to spend a few days in her presence.

“Are you coming, or are we going to freeze out here like a bunch of idiots?” Aegon asked sharply, seeing Y/N hold onto older Velaryon a bit too long. The young princess gave him an amused look, tousled Lucerys’ hair, and linked arms with Helaena. The four of them briskly walked towards the castle.

Rhaenyra was celebrating her thirty-second name day, so the entire family from King’s Landing had come to Dragonstone. Viserys wanted his daughter to celebrate her birthday in the capital, but she wished to spend the day her way. The ailing king, still battling illness, had no intention of arguing with his daughter, lacking the strength and health to do so. Even to the Targaryen seat, he chose to sail by ship rather than ride on the back of one of the dragons. After Balerion’s death, he had given up flying and now didn’t think about it at all.

During the evening feast, the dining hall filled with people. Despite it being Rhaenyra’s day, Viserys sat at the head of the table. To his left was his eldest daughter, beside her Daemon, Joffrey, Lucerys, Jacaerys, Rhaena, and Baela. On the king’s right sat his wife, next to her the Hand of the King, then Aemond, Aegon, Y/N, Helaena, and Rhaenys Targaryen, next to whom, at the other end of the table, sat Corlys Velaryon.

The feast went on in a calm and surprisingly pleasant atmosphere. Previous feasts often ended in arguments before they even really began. The main instigators of all disputes, Aemond and Aegon, sat quietly, not speaking much. Many might have thought someone stuffed hay into the dragons’ bellies to prevent them from breathing fire.

Aegon, however, increasingly clenched his hand around the wine goblet from time to time, hearing Y/N happily talking with Jacaerys across the table. His blood boiled hearing her so delighted with the conversation with him. He felt like slapping that fucking son of a bitch.

Helaena was also having a good time, shedding her shyness piece by piece with each sip of wine. She chatted lively with Rhaena and Baela, who were already slightly tipsy themselves. Rhaenys sent an amused look to her husband, who tightened his grip on the wine jug and pulled it closer. The Sea Snake had to be vigilant to prevent his granddaughters and the young Targaryen from getting too drunk. Helaena, however, had more to celebrate than just her half-sister’s birthday.

Since Viserys and Alicent’s daughters reached reproductive age, the Hand of the King and the Queen Mother began looking for potential suitors for them. While there was no trouble finding suitors for Y/N, who, besides her wealth and possessions, had a strong character and good disposition, finding a husband for Helaena was problematic.

From birth, the princess showed signs of abnormal development. Though she grew as a girl should, her mind seemed not to keep up, still trapping her in a world of childish dreams. Helaena was quiet, read a lot, and spent all her time in the garden, not burdened with unnecessary duties.

The Hand decided that when the time came, that is, when Aegon was to take the throne from the ailing king, he would marry Helaena, and Y/N would marry Forrest Frey. The plans were made at a Small Council meeting, which neither Helaena nor Y/N attended. Probably neither would have known about the plans to marry them off if Y/N hadn’t accidentally overheard their conversation when one of the doors unguarded by sentries was ajar.

“I don’t agree!” she said firmly, pushing the heavy doors and entering.

“Y/N, you can’t be here-,” Alicent stood up, wanting to calm her daughter, but she sharply pointed her finger upwards. “And you can’t do this to Helaena! I don’t agree!”

Aegon, who was one of the people at the table, also didn’t support the Council’s idea. However, he was too drunk to make any objections. Only his sister’s intrusion somewhat sobered him up. If he had to choose, he could marry Y/N since she wanted to fight so hard for Helaena’s better fate. Frankly, he didn’t care either way.

The guards first wanted to remove the young princess, but she began presenting her arguments. The Council didn’t think an eighteen-year-old’s arguments could make any sense, but many underestimated Y/N’s negotiation skills. In the castle, by Aegon’s side, she could be more useful than in the Riverlands beside Forrest Frey.

The Council decided that Helaena would marry Frey when the time came, and Y/N would marry Aegon. The young princess didn’t want Helaena to spend her life in the castle, locked in chambers and bearing children. She wanted her to break free from King’s Landing and experience a life different from the one she had lived so far. Y/N knew that unlike her sister, she could handle an incestuous marriage and an unwanted husband, who Aegon was to become in the future. Helaena might have been driven to suicide.

But for now, these were just tomorrow's problems, or who knows, maybe even further. Helaena, in a sudden burst of joy, stood up and climbed onto a chair, much to Alicent’s horror.

“To my beloved sister Y/N,” she said, swaying. Rhaenys held the chair to prevent her from falling. “And to my sister Rhaenyra, who celebrates her birthday today. I love you!”

Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and Aegon looked at her indulgently, raising their goblets. All the other guests eagerly toasted, applauding the young princess’s words. Rhaenyra stood up from the table and hugged her sister; Y/N also rose to do the same.

“Helaena needs rest,” Alicent whispered, gripping her daughter’s shoulder before she stood up. “Escort her to bed.”

Y/N shook off her hand and got up, embracing her sisters. However, when she felt Helaena’s heavy body in her arms, she held her close around the waist.

As soon as the sisters left the dining hall, Jacaerys, sent by his mother, joined them. Young prince apologized to Y/N and with a single, confident motion, picked up Helaena, who laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek, admitting that she would let such a handsome man whisk her away without hesitation.

Jacaerys only let go of Helaena when he placed her on the bed in her bedroom.

"Will you stay with her until morning?" he asked as Y/N began removing the rings from her sister's fingers.

"Helaena usually sleeps like a mouse under a haystack, but after wine, she sleeps like a rock," Y/N replied, smiling slightly at the sight of her sister's flushed face. "Wait outside, I'll change her for bed and join you."

The young prince nodded obediently and left the chamber. He stood outside the door, straight as a string, feeling like a guard. Shortly after, the princess joined him, quietly closing the door behind her.

"She'll sleep like a baby until morning," she assured, laughing softly.

"It's nice to see her with a smile on her face," Jacerys admitted as they slowly began walking down the corridor. He quietly offered his arm to Y/N, which she gladly accepted.

"I've noticed she smiles much more when she's here. I feel like the capital is suffocating her."

Jacaerys lowered his gaze. He had recently learned about the marriage plans for the young sisters.

"I heard she'll leave King's Landing sooner or later," he said, glancing at her. He didn't know how delicate ground he was entering.

The young princess sighed and nodded. She spent the whole way telling Jacaerys about everything that had happened in the past weeks. In the company of the boy, Y/N didn't feel like his aunt, as their relationship would suggest, but like a friend. After all, they were only a year apart in age. They had always had a good relationship and, unlike her hostile brothers, Y/N really liked Jacaerys. She cherished every opportunity she could spend with him. This was one of those moments.

The pair didn't return to the feast; instead, they went to one of the terraces. They sat on one of the benches, and Y/N involuntarily rested her head on the boy's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hugging her close.

"You deserve more, Y/N," he said quietly. "Both you and Helaena deserve more."

"I know I'll manage, I'm strong," she said, watching the remnants of the day dance on the horizon. "But I'm so scared for Helaena. She deserves the whole world, not what's waiting for her in King's Landing."

The young princess wasn't sad; at this moment, she could even say she felt a lightness in her heart. Jacaerys' body warmed her pleasantly, and the cool, salty air chased away the heat caused by the wine from her cheeks.

"You're the bravest dragon I've ever known," he said with a smile, looking at her face. The girl smiled at his words. "I don't know stronger people than Targaryen women."

"Do you really think so?" she asked quietly, looking into his eyes. She didn't know if his cheeks were flushed from the wine or the cold wind. Nevertheless, his dark eyes looked at her so gently that the young princess never wanted to look into any other eyes again.

Jacaerys smiled and nodded. He cautiously lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He touched her cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"I would take better care of you than they would, you know?" he said after a moment, his whisper lost in the whistle of the wind. Y/N heard his words clearly, just as she clearly heard the snort of disdain that came from somewhere to the side.

"I don't know which of you is more pathetic," Aegon said, looking at them with drunken eyes. He could barely stand, but his fists were clenched. Aemond remained silent, standing in the entrance and blocking it with his body. Unlike his brother, he didn't look drunk.

"What is your problem?" Y/N asked angrily, standing up. Unintentionally, she shielded Jacaerys with her body, who also rose from the bench.

"That you act like a complete whore," he spat through his teeth, causing Jacaerys to step around the girl to stand in her defense. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back when Aemond drew a dagger and stepped forward, defending his brother.

"Watch your words," Jacaerys said angrily. He didn't care that he was addressing the future king. In his eyes, Aegon wasn't worth anything, and he certainly didn't deserve to be Y/N's husband.

"Or what, bastard?" Aemond asked calmly, looking at him intently.

"We haven't done anything wrong," the young princess said sharply, though her voice trembled. She knew that her brothers were unlikely to hurt her, but she wasn't capable of protecting Jacaerys from both of them. She had only her hands, feet, and teeth at her disposal. "Get out of the way."

"Oh, really?" Aegon smiled. His drunken eyes were shiny from alcohol and dark-circled, his skin ashen. Even despite the fire of hatred burning in him, he didn't have a bit of a blush on his face. "I see a fucking dog clinging to my future wife."

"You wish she were your wife," Jacaerys said without thinking much about the words that left his mouth. Aegon lunged at him with his fists, to which the young Velaryon responded in kind. Aemond sheathed his dagger and grabbed Jacaerys by the shoulders, holding him and exposing him to Aegon's blows. In the commotion, the young princess managed to draw her brother's dagger and without hesitation, grabbed Aegon by the hair, pulling him back. With tears on her cheeks, she pressed the sword to his neck.

The four of them froze in place.

Aemond still held Jacaerys tightly, blood was trickling from his lip. Aegon's heart was pounding, not from fear but from adrenaline and, at that moment, also from excitement. His sister's small hand was firmly gripping his hair, forcing him to tilt his head back. Blood flowed from his broken nose, running down to his grinning lips.

"She's a dragon, see?" Aegon said, addressing Jacaerys. "You couldn't handle her, fool."

Y/N pushed her brother to the ground, releasing the dagger from her hands as well. She grabbed Jacaerys' hand and pulled him from Aemond's grasp, who would have lied if he said his sister's behavior didn't leave him speechless. In shock, he wasn't even able to oppose her.

"I'm so sorry," she began tearfully, pulling him away as far as possible from that place. "I should have killed them when I had the sword in my hand."

Jacaerys pulled her by the hand, causing her to turn around suddenly and fall into his arms. Without a word, he kissed her, feeling her salty tears mix with the blood from his split lip. Y/N returned the kiss but looked at him in shock. Jacaerys smiled warmly at her.

"Don't apologize to me," he whispered, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "You are a dragon, so be a dragon."

The pair didn't return to the feast. Instead, Y/N went with the young prince to his chambers. Jacaerys initially protested when she said she would help dress his wounds. Eventually, he agreed to her proposal, lying on the bed in just his trousers. The girl carefully cleaned his cuts, placing a cold compress on his abdomen. She sat beside him, looking at him tenderly.

"I'm so sorry, Jace," she whispered, squeezing his hand. The boy, however, seemed to be in a good mood.

"If every fight with them means I get to spend time with you, I'm ready to fight them every day."

The young princess smiled and shook her head at his words. She felt her heart swell when she was with him.

Their eager lips exchanged a few more kisses before Y/N quietly left his chamber, returning to her own. Helaena was still sleeping soundly, snoring softly. She lay on her side on her half of the bed, not even stirring when her sister began preparing for sleep. Dressed in a nightgown, she let her hair down and carefully combed it. She put the brush away and blew out the nearby candles, lying down on the bed.

As soon as she covered herself with the quilt, she felt someone sit on her, pressing her into the mattress, and a cold hand covered her mouth. The girl wanted to scream but felt a blade against her neck. The attacker leaned over her, his hair tickling her face. The young princess smelled alcohol.

"Every time you raise your hand against me," Aegon whispered, tightening his grip on the dagger's hilt, "I'll have one of your fingers cut off, understood?"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. For the first time in her life, Aegon truly frightened her. She felt her heart leap into her throat.

"And that fucking Velaryon dog," he moved his hand from her mouth to her hair, gripping it tightly. "I never want to see him near you again."

"Aegon-" she whispered with difficulty, clutching his wrist to push him away. She felt herself running out of breath, and the cold blade pressed deeper into her skin.

"Is that clear?" he growled, pressing her harder into the pillows.

"Yes," she said tearfully.

A moment later, she felt her brother's alcohol-tainted lips forcefully and brutally kissing hers. Aegon stood up shortly after and left the sisters' chamber, closing the door behind him. In the darkness, the young princess found her sister's body and hugged her from behind, trying to suppress her tears. She was terrified.

How much she wished she could hide in Jacaerys's arms at that moment.

[lunarfleur]

Kei Tsukishima General Headcanons

Warnings:None!

A/N: this marks the beginning of me making my returning Haikyuu obsession everyone else’s problem 🙏🏻

He’s near sighted (?)

^ can’t see anything unless it’s right in front of his face (I think that’s near sighted but idk)

Used to have an obsession with dinosaurs as a kid and retained all the information as he got older

The dinosaur figurines are from when he was a kid

The type of guy to hold on to things for memories (he has several memory boxes tucked away in his closet)

We know he’s really smart but he doesn’t read all that often because it wears his eyes out

He sticks to magazines and manga because it’s easier

Loves cardigans and sweaters as much as hoodies but he doesn’t really wear them outside his house

Actually has a really big family (like a lot of cousins and aunts and uncles)

His dad died a couple years after he was born

It doesn’t bother him all that much because he doesn’t really remember him, but it’s upsetting when he spends father’s day at the cemetery with his mom and brother

He gets random waves of sadness when he remembers that his mom lost her husband and raised two sons (basically) alone

He has so much appreciation for his mom, he’s a different person when he’s with her

He’s far from fluent, but Tsuki’s quite good at speaking English

Could hold a decent conversation if needed

He listens to quite a bit of foreign music because he thinks it makes English easier

Tsuki doesn’t wear cologne but he smells good anyway (good hygiene is a must)

He just smells clean idk

Tsuki can’t really lie down on his couch comfortably because it’s just barely his size

Has trouble finding t-shirts that don’t swallow him whole because he’s so skinny

He doesn’t drink soda but loves juices and teas

No nickname pisses him off more than “four eyes”

He spent a long time disliking the way he looked with glasses

He actually doesn’t hate Yachi, he’s very respectful towards her

Doesn’t have too much of a ‘type’ but Tsuki prefers smart girls because he likes being able to have (mature) debates with people

And he’d prefer someone who is completely dependent on him

He’s not really picky with anything else, though. His mom taught him to understand that there’s different types of beauty

Normally has cold hands

And he gets cold super easily so he cranks up his heater in the winter

I think that’s it!

[amyintherapy]

Things I've Learned in 18 months of therapy

When people repeat the same patterns of behavior that are more negative than positive, it's usually trauma related. Examples: Your sister who has dated 15 different men who all are emotionally unavailable, short-fused guys who don't respect her. Or your aunt who has gotten into severe debt several times in her life, always buying items she doesn't need. Or your friend who has always befriended people who are not disabled but don't work and chronically need 'favors' so they end up allowing people to mooch off them to the point of it harming their own financial security. Basically anytime you find yourself frustrated and wondering 'why do they always DO that?" or "why don't they just do X instead? They always do Y which just makes things worse..." the answer likely is, they have trauma related to this issue, and/or their behavior is related to their trauma response that they are stuck in. Of course, this is true for you also! If you keep reacting to certain situations in a way you dislike, or going back to a coping method that you see as harmful and can't figure out why you can't stop...it's probably trauma related in some way.

Part of being traumatized involves your brain trying to hide the trauma from you..at least most of it, if not all of it. My therapist has used the example of a piece of paper that is standing upright. You might see the fine edge of the paper, so you sometimes know a piece of paper is in front of you, but you can only see the edge, so when that paper finally gets turned so that it's facing you and you can read everything written on it, it kinda knocks you over and you feel like you should have known all of that all along...after all, the paper was right there. But you couldn't read it before, and you didn't even know there was all that writing on it anyway so you didn't realize such a big piece of your puzzle was missing. In other cases, the paper may be more like...trapped in a book, so it was always there, but you had no idea it was as you thought it was just part of the book, not this hand-written note hidden inside. So anyway, it's very normal to feel shocked at how lacking in awareness you were about the full impact or detail of your trauma once you get on a roll with therapy. I always knew I had trauma, and I've always been a self-reflective person...so I thought I was self aware of my trauma. But I've been surprised at how much I was failing to see fully.

ADHD is stupidly named. Having ADHD doesn't mean you have a deficit of attention. It means you can't control (aka regulate) your attention the way most people can. Tons of people with ADHD would tell you that they feel like they have too much attention. They are interested in ALL the things which is why they struggle to keep their focus on one thing while blocking out everything else going on around them. The things you do that cause you problems, were things you originally did to protect yourself. For example, maybe your addiction started because you were reaching for emotional relief and had no other (healthier) way to make yourself feel better. Or maybe you shut down and isolate when you're hurt, because when you tried reaching out for support as a child it just made things worse because your caregiver was reactive instead of supportive. Endless examples, but people do things for a reason. Your coping methods have a logical cause of some kind or another, even if they do more harm than good now, that wasn't always the case. At one time, they helped you cope with or avoid some bigger pain or problem. Depression and anxiety are both forms of avoiding other feelings. Much of general society knows the concept that "anger is a secondary emotion" (which is only sometimes true, it's also a core emotion) but I didn't know this was true of anxiety and depression. They're always secondary emotions. However, it's important to differentiate between sadness and depression, and fear and depression. Fear and sadness/grief are core emotions, but anxiety and depression are secondary. The fact that I am detail-focused and couldn't be concise if my life depended on it, are both ADHD related for me. Social anxiety is usually attachment trauma aka an insecure attachment. Anxiety and depression are often caused by trauma. I wish I knew this earlier. I spent a lot of time thinking of my anxiety was simply genetic or sort of temperament based and therefore unlikely to be healed or fixed. I don't mean to suggest that genetics or temperment isn't some element but...I can't help but wonder how many people are like me and don't realize they could heal a lot of their anxiety or depression by doing trauma work. I'm definitely still an anxious person, but I've seen a really big improvement in my anxiety. More than I thought was possible two years ago. Most kids and teenagers are avoidant in therapy, so they don't usually see as much progress from the experience, at least compared to adults. It's often a rather slow process to see improvement. However, it's still really helpful in the longrun if they have a positive experience with therapy as a teen, they're likely to try again as an adult when they're really ready to face their issues. Online, I've seen child therapists outright say that their #1 goal with kids in therapy is to make them think of therapy positively so they'll come back to therapy when they're older! I saw some progress in therapy as a teen for sure, but the 4+ years of it resulted in roughly as much (if not less?) progress than I've seen in 18 months of therapy as an adult. Apparently that's quite common. Talking about trauma feels awful, and it often makes me leave trauma-related therapy appointments wondering if there is any point or if i'm just making myself sad. A "okay, I understand this issue I have now was caused by XYZ experience from my past...but wtf do I DO about it? I understand it now, but I still have no clue how to fix it?" type of feeling. This is the result of being too close to the current day to see the full picture. Over the course of time, the benefits and healing always become apparent to me.

People who get angry often are sort of the opposite of me. I default to feeling anxious when I "should" feel angry (like when someone is rude to me), and sometimes also when I 'should' be sad. Most people who experience chronic anger are simply people who are converting their fear and/or sadness into anger. It's sometimes the difference between being an internalize and an externalize. Anger is an external emotion, fear/anxiety is an internal one. So if you struggle to externalize, you'll convert anger to sadness or fear, and if you struggle to internalize you'll convert sadness and fear to anger.

My "small t" traumas - like emotional neglect, are at least as impactful as my "big T" trauma (sexual abuse) was.

Sensory issues are common in ADHD, not just autism even though the content online often makes it seem exclusive to ASD.

I am probably forgetting a lot, but if I don't publish this now I never will. So if I think of more later, I'll just add on. :)

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 30: When You Know What You Want

Prompt: "I won't let you down"

Mulder and Scully have to babysit baby Matthew Scully. Rating: T, wc: 1,416

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

“Mulder, it’s me.” The clock reads 8.57 a.m. when he answers Scully’s phone call – the same time she usually strolls into their basement office.

“Is everything all right?” He’s trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Whatever is going on, Scully doesn’t need him freaking out.

“More or less,” she says with a sigh and he’s half out of his chair already. “I can’t come into the office today.”

“Are you sick?” He squeezes the phone between his ear and shoulder, opening his email, ready to inform Skinner that neither he nor Scully will be available today.

“No, I’m fine – I mean, I’m not sick.” She sighs again. “My sister-in-law Tara called me half an hour ago, frantic because my brother Bill is running late and she has a job interview. My mom is on a trip with her book club and well, I guess that left me.”

“You didn’t mention your brother was in town.”

“I didn’t know,” she says through gritted teeth. “He didn’t want me to know. It was supposed to be some big surprise. That completely backfired. Either way, I’m watching the baby until Tara comes back and it could be hours.”

“Do you want company?” He doesn’t even need to think about it. He’d much rather babysit Bill Jr. baby son than sit around in the office all day, missing Scully.

“You don’t have to do that, Mulder.”

“What if I want to?” She takes her time thinking about it.

“Only if you want to,” she says, but he’s certain he hears relief in her voice. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.

“I’ll contact Skinner and then I’m on my way.”

“Oh Mulder, if you’re coming over, could you pick up a few things on the way for me? Just in case.”

“Sure thing. I won’t let you down.”

*

Scully’s “just-in-case” list is longer than any grocery list he’s ever written for himself. He finds everything easily enough and catches several looks from women – mothers, mostly – who gawk at him.

“Your wife is so lucky,” one says in passing and Mulder stares after her, speechless, convinced he’s in a parallel universe. He forgets about it quickly, hurrying to get to Scully and baby Matthew. He met the boy as an infant; his face had been wrinkly and his eyes closed.

Since then, he hasn’t even seen a picture of the boy. He wonders why. Scully has mentioned him here and there, just like she’s mentioned other members of her family. But he doesn’t know what to expect when he knocks at the door, hoping the baby isn’t asleep.

Scully opens the door with the boy on her hip, smiling at Mulder.

“Hi,” he says, overwhelmed all of a sudden. Scully with a baby in her arms is a sight he doesn’t get to see often. He’s surprised how many emotions it unleashes in him.

“This is my friend, Mulder,” Scully explains to Matthew in a soft voice that makes Mulder stare at her in awe. “Do you want to say hi?”

“No.” It’s more spit than letters and the expression reminds Mulder of the baby’s father. He hopes the dislike isn’t genetic.

“That’s his favorite word,” Scully says, running a hand over Matthew’s soft, reddish hair. The Scully genes must be strong.

As he steps inside, he can’t help but wonder what their child would look like; his and Scully’s. Would their child have red hair, too? Would it have Scully’s nose? God, he hopes so.

“Here’s the- here’s everything you asked for.” He hands her the bag, forgetting that she has the child in her arms. The transfer is awkward but they manage.

“Can you hold him for a second? He doesn’t bite.” Scully hands him the baby and for a moment, the two just stare at each other.

“Hello, Matthew. You probably don’t remember me,” Mulder says as Matthew reaches for his nose. They always go for the nose. “I met you when you were born.”

“Guh!” he exclaims, seemingly agreeing with Mulder.

“I work with your aunt, you know. She’s great, isn’t she? She is. You smell like cookies, Matt. I bet she let you have cookies, huh? Remember how cool she is. You can always come to her when your parents – well, when you need a place to stay.” Matthew listens to him carefully, a finger in his otherwise open mouth. He’s quiet and not fussy, surprising Mulder. He’s heard horror stories of toddlers having crying fits when in a stranger’s arms. Not this little Scully.

“I think you might be my new favorite Scully,” Mulder confesses to him, tickling his stomach and making him gurgle with laughter.

“I’m no longer your favorite?” Scully just stands there in the doorway, her arms crossed, a big smile on her face.

“Matt, I think I’m in trouble.” The boy just laughs again. “You’re still my favorite Scully, Scully,” he assures her. “But this one’s quite cute, too.”

“He is,” she agrees and he thinks he sees a flicker of pain cross her face. “You can hand him back now. Unless you want to feed him.”

“Sorry, pal,” Mulder says, handing the toddler back to Scully, “I’m not qualified for that.”

*

“Toddlers are messy,” Mulder remarks a couple of hours later after Tara has come to pick up Matthew. She apologized to Scully – and Mulder – for springing the boy on them, but both assured her that they didn’t mind.

“They are,” Scully agrees, picking up random toys. She didn’t ask him to stay and help her clean up, but he thought it was the least he could do. Especially after his interactive storytelling in which several plush toys were flying around Scully’s living room.

“But they’re also cute.”

“They are that, too.” Her voice is soft; too much so. He thinks about the moment earlier when he thought he saw something in her expression. There’s something in the air and he isn’t sure if he should grasp for it.

“He has that Scully hair.” Scully chuckles, without looking over at Mulder.

“Bill always hated it when he was younger. I hope it will be easier for Matthew.” She’s holding one of the stuffed animals in her hand; a small giraffe. Mulder just watches her, waits.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?” She’s still not even looking at him, making his heart beat faster, knowing she’s going to say something important.

“Have you ever… I know we once talked about- but have you ever seriously considered having children?” He wishes she were looking at him. He wants to see her face when he says this. But he knows this moment is fragile as it is and he’ll take what he can get.

“For the longest time, I didn’t. It just never crossed my mind and my life – the job… it just wasn’t anything I thought about. Then I met Emily and I saw you with her and…”

“Emily?” Scully turns around and her eyes are full of tears. He nods slowly.

“That’s when I started thinking about it.”

“You could meet someone tomorrow and-”

“I have met her already, Scully. I think you know that.” His admission is not a surprise. Scully glares at him for a second before she looks away, nodding to herself.

“That’s… that makes this easier, actually,” she says, laughing uncomfortably.

“Makes what easier?” Suddenly his heart is pounding, his throat dry.

“I got a second opinion on my ova and um, they say there’s a chance. A chance for me to have a baby.”

“Scully, that is wonderful news.”

“I’ve been thinking about it – debating it, actually. Whether it was something I even wanted to explore. Today showed me that I… that I want to at least try. I have to try.” A few tears fall from her eyes and Mulder nods, overwhelmed by emotions, too. A Scully baby. Red hair, blue eyes, and a sweet smile.

Her child.

“When I thought about it, even before I made a decision, the only person I considered asking…,” she trails off. He has a hunch, but right now is not the time to jump ahead. So he waits. He looks at her, proving that he can be patient. He will be there for her, no matter how long it takes.

“I want you to be the other part of the equation.”

And there it is. His heart takes flight and he doesn’t even need to think about it. He grins at her, hoping she understands.

[luvyeni]

THE HIGH LORD OF SUMMER COURT; HWANG HYUNJIN

PAIRINGS. highfae!hyunjin x maid!reader

WC. 6.4k

WARNINGS. virginity loss, corruption kink if you squint, oral (fem. recieving), unprotected sex,

SYNOPSIS. hyunjin of summer court hardly paid attention to his staff, spending most of his time with different hook ups or spending most of his time in his paint room, but when you clumsily spill his tea on his suit, he suddenly wants to be around you, watching you work.

TAGLIST. @kosmoreads @hipsdofangirl @imhyvnjin @lovemepie67 @chvnnie @hgema @candiecans @my-name-is-namename @yourhwngness @midsoulz @jessyrdn @cutielittlepie @intomysoul-555 @cxentrxcks @yurippiefelix @missrobyn81 @stayinthemirohwoo @3retcha @lifeissteph @skzfelixlove @reiheis @chereshnyya @levantea @why-am-i-sad @blankdyean @kunstistliebchen @userbangchan @fairywriter-oracle @elmi-chan @compersian @mal-lunar-28 @n4tiii @ddazed-lhs @felixcharmerera @ch4nniebang @hyunibinnie @fairyyeo @reddesert-healourblues @fxckedupbitch @icouldntcareless22 @pessimist-sky @jeonnyread

DISCLAIMER! THIS IS NOT AFFILIATED WITH THE BOOK SERIES BUT IT WILL HAVE REFERENCES TO THE BOOK.

rule number one: lesser faeries are to be seen and not heard while they work in the castle.

Growing up that's all that your mother would say, it was the first thing she every told you when you asked her how was it when she went to work at the castle in adriata and she's been saying it ever since.

your family lived in the poorest cities of the summer court, surving on close to nothing after your father died. that was before your mother got a special job to go work in adriata, to work for the high lord of the court, lord hyunjin. this was the first good news you have ever had received in your entire life , your family would get a little more money coming into your very small house.

recently, your mother started to experience severe pain, and the castle thought it would be in her best intrest if she found a replacement and retired, of course she chose you, you were in young and ready to work for your family. soon you were finding yourself saying goodbye to your aunt and siblings, going to join your mother at the castle in the capital city of adriata.

"mom!" you were met with a heartwarming hug from your mother when you met up with her where all the boats and ships docked in adriata. "my baby!" regardless of time your mother spent away, you never let it get in between your relationship with your mother. "we have to go to the shops, the high lord requested a special dinner tonight for lady friend, let's get some practice in, so you can get familiar with what he likes and doesn't."

walking through the streets of adriata , you learned what you needed to know about the hyunjin, the high lord, all his likes and dislikes. "he's rather short with the staff, doesn't say much, unless he wants something, his lady friends though, they need help with everything, eating, getting dressed, you name it they probably need help with it." you laughed.

"he hasn't been married off yet?"

you knew all about hyunjin, and his never ending quest of trying get into all the dresses of the summer court high faes. "you know he probably never will , you know he was the first high fae to reject his mating bond."

"lesser faeries are to be seen and not heard while they work in the castle, i know mama."

the kitchen was pretty much the only place you could talk , except when anyone important would come in to check, then it would get silent. "i guess they take that rule pretty seriously." you try to joke, but your mother just slaps your arm, telling you to hush, apologizing to the other staff.

"oh my!" chaewon, a girl around your age jumped up while you washed the dishes, you and your said your goodbyes, and she was on her way back home, leaving you alone. "are you okay?" your face turned in half concern half confusion.

"i can't believe we let the time pass like this, the lord needs his tea, oh he's probably gonna be so mad." she rushed to get everything together. "has he gotten mad before?" you helped her so she wouldn't burn herself with the way she was shaking. "i don't know i've been here for a year and he hasn't come in once, your mom is the only one who serves him." she freezes again. "your mom, she isn't here, who's gonna serve the lord, oh no." she began to panic, but she stopped looking at you.

"you can do it."

"me?" your eyes widened, "i can't do it, you said it yourself, my mom only does it." she put everything neatly on the tray. "that's why you should do it, your her daughter." she handed it to you. "absolutely not, i mean i don't even know where his wing is." you push the tray slowly away from you.

"it's the right wing, please , i will owe you one." she pushed back towards you. you looked into her pleading eyes. "tsk, fine." she smiled handing you tray. "you owe me." she gave you a tumbs up. "remember, quite as you work, or whatever that rule was." you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to correct her, you had other things to worry about. like where the hell was the right wing...

"god where the hell is his room?" you whispered as you basically tipped toed through the halls of the castle. chaewon made it seem like it was easy to find, you knew you shouldn't have listen to someone who's been here for a year and hasn't even left the kitchen or met the lord.

"this was so stupid." you should've just waited like you suggestive, instead hear you are lost in the castle, trying not to cry out in frustration. "i've had enough of this, where's his damn room." you started to get a bit upset.

"excuse me." a deep voice made you shriek in fear, and the next thing you know the tea was thrown over the person, he gasped. "shit!" he cursed, probably because the was hot and now it was on all over his body...

it was hyunjin. lord hyunjin.

hyunjin was confused, his servents knew his schedule, so where was his tea? everyday at this hour his tea is served my mrs.lee quietly in his art room, just like he likes it, where is she?

"hyune what's wrong?" he sighed under his brearh at the voice that had plagued him for the past few weeks. "nothing hana, you know you're not supposed to be in here." she was only supposed to be here a night, and now suddenly she's asking for big dinners with him and her friends, he didn't mind though, he'll entertain her delusions of marrying him for a few weeks, then break it off with her by sleeping with her bestfriend, it should be fine, it always worked out for him in the end.

"i can't wait anymore." he got up. "someone will answer for this, come get out." he closed the door leaving hana who was confused standing outside it.

he was making his way to the kitchen for the first time in years, he was surprised he still knew where it was, especially since this castle was pretty ginormous.

"i've had enough of this, where is his damn room." a voice made him stop and turn, a young girl around his age holding his tea tray. had something happen to mrs.lee? who was this girl?"

hyunjin thought he was making loud enough steps, but apparently not, since when he went to get your attention, you shrieked in terror, the tray slipping out of your hand, and landing right on his clothes. "shit!" he jumped back in pain because of the hot drink.

"oh no, im so dead." you panicked, trying to pick everything up. "i am so sorry." you grabbed the napkin off the tray, trying to blot it off his suit. "please don't fire or kill me it was an accident." you rambled, realizing the napkin was as useless as the most useless thing on the planet.

"it's fine, wait your arm is bur- what the hell are you doing." hyunjin rolled his eyes as hana approached you both, grabbing your arm, you flinched in pain, but only hyunjin seemed to see it, because hana didn't let your arm go.

"i..im so sorry."

"you damn well better be, his suit ruined, and you've probably burned his skin—oh my hyune are you okay." hyunjin's eyes were on your wrist, it must've hurt more since it was directly on your skin, but you didn't utter not one moan of pain.

you both made eye contact, and he awkwardly coughed. "hana, im fine, i just need a new suit." she turned to you. "well why are you standing there still? go fetch the tailor and get him a new suit." he watched you practically run away with the tray in your hand. "idiot, you should have her fired." he side eyed hana, removing her hand from his chest, walking away back to his room, his tea was all over him, but why could he only worry about the burn on your arm?

"it's my first day and im gonna be fired, my mom has been gone fore 2 hours max and im already gonna lose the job." you panicked as chaewon bandaged your arm, you tried to tell her it barely hurt, but in reality she was just trying to compensate for putting you in said mess. "i am so sorry, this is all my fault, i put too much pressure on you on your first day."

"it's fine i guess, no one was really hurt." you said. "my ego is though." she pouted. "i am so sorry." she apologized once more, just another maid ran in. "it's time to serve dinner, there's a few guest, so remember, we are to be seen and not heard, let's not cause even more of a scene." she looked at you and chaewon, you both just lowered your heads in embarrassment. "chop chop!"

everyone set everything up so perfect on the rollie trays. "should you really be in control of the trays." you glared at the male staff next to you. "shut it beomgyu." chaewon slapped his arm. "the three of you let's go." you quickly shut your mouths as you made your way to the eating area.

there were many girls, squealing and talking as you entered into the room, must be her friends, the way hyunjin looked so disinterested. "i can't believe it all these girls and the bastard acts like this." beomgyu said under his breath. "beomgyu, shut up." chaewon said quietly through her fake smile.

"both of you stop it, dispurst so they won't notice." you said walking the other way, right towards hyunjin. 'shit' it was too late to turn around without anyone noticing you literally trying run away from serving the high lord himself, so you sucked it up, head down as you made your way over to him.

hyunjin saw you walking over to him, he was so bored, and all he could think of was if your wrist was okay so this perfect. you walked over to him head down to the floor, you took this seen but not heard thing seriously he thought. "cute." he chuckled under his breath, covering it with a cough as you grew closer to him.

you put his food in front of him, about to walk away, but he softly grabbed your wrist. "does it hurt?" you were shocked he even asked. "you can answer." you were too stunned. "uh- excuse you." hana interrupted you. "my friend needs her food." you quickly gave him a nod, before walking to them.

"that's her, the one who tried to burn the high lord." you cringed, hearing her gossip to her friend. "and she's still working here?" you were pretty sure they wanted you to hear. "you know hyunjin is just so kind, he would never to that to someone so poor." you were a lesser fae so you were pretty much powerless, but you definitely would have used them on her if you were strong enough. "watch this." hana knocked over the cup sneakily.

"jesus! can you do anything right, constantly dropping things, why won't you just quit if you're gonna be this useless." your jaw dropped. "b- are you about to speak?" mrs.bae, another maid ran over to you. "she didn't mean it, we'll have this cleaned up right now, beomgyu."

"whatever, just get out of my sight." mrs.bae nodded dragging you away. you glanced at hyunjin who looked at you with sympathy in his eyes. "let's go." mrs.bae dragged you into the kitchen.

after your second scolding of the day you were told to stay in the kitchen and do the dishes, so you did until it was time for the servants to quietly return to their quarters.

"it was the worst first day ever." you sat on your uncomfortable mattress. "you definitely take the cake for worst first days." beomgyu plopped his butt right on your bed. "why is he here." chaewon threw her pillow at the boy. "i really don't know why i keep you around, useless i tell you, get out." she picked up the show, getting ready to throw it. "fine, im gone." he got up leaving out your small room. "we get the smallest rooms because we're the youngest." chaewon picked her pillow up. "of course." you layed on your back, staring up at the dingy light.

"well there's always tomorrow." she turned off the light, darkness engluf the room. "i guess." you sighed, closing your eyes letting sleep wash over you.

you guys were rushed out of bed the next morning to start the day. "jesus it's so early." beomgyu stumbled into the kitchen. "i hate this job." you and chaewon laughed at the boy who washed the fruits, grumbling a bunch of curse words under his breath. "you must not be a morning person." you teased. "oh haha mrs.tray." you glared are him. "asshole." chaewon slapped your arm, but you brushed it off. "you started it." he retaliated, you noticed chaewon was quite, the whole kitchen was in fact except you and beomgyu.

chaewon stared in shock towards the entrance of the kitchen, your eyes followed hers, mouth opened in shock. "good morning." hyunjin stood there, no one said anything. "is breakfast almost ready?" mrs.bae spoke up. "a..almost sir, sorry for keeping you waiting." he held his hand up. "don't apologize, just wanted to see how it was coming along, don't mind me." he walked around the kitchen looking at everything, while everyone walked on eggshells.

he looked over to the station where you three quietly did your task. you guys locked eyes and he made his way over. "shit." all three of you said, looking at the fruit like it was actually intresting, beomgyu was itching to make a joke, you coud see his left eye twitching.

"good morning." you heard his voice, smooth like honey in your ear. "is your wrist okay?" you nodded, eyes on the fruit, chopping them right beside chaewon.

"you know i prefer it so much better when someone verbally answers me, and looks me in the eye." he whispered in your ear, his hand grazing yours. "let's try that again, is your wrist okay." you breathed, turning your head, his face very close to yours, but you looked him in the eyes. "it's fine." you hope you didn't sound too breathless.

"good girl."

your knees almost went weak, you swore you would've fell if it weren't for chaewon, he smirked walking away leaving everyone shocked at what just happened. he whispered something into mrs.bae's ear before leaving the kitchen, and you could hear the collective sigh wash over the room.

"girl." chaewon turned to you. "what the hell was that?" you shrugged, trying to collect your thoughts. "i..i don't know." you spoke. "did you seduce the high lord?" beomgyu wasn't joking. "our first meeting was me spilling hot tea over him, i doubt it." "maybe he has a kink for that." chaewon slapped beomgyu. "shut up."

"im just saying." he threw his hands up in defense. "i mean it's not my thing, but i don't judge." you listened to them argue, as mrs.bae walked over to you. "the high lord has requested you to his bedroom." chaewon snickered. "it's a bit early for that." you glared. "shut up." your face was hot. "get back to work, you will go to his room and clean, quietly, and then make your way back to the kitchen to get ready for lunch." she instructed.

"try not to burn him again." chaewon and beomgyu bursted out into a fit of laughter. "why did i chose you two as friends." you glared at them, walking out the kitchen, someone escorting you to his room this time, to avoid you getting lost.

you hesitantly knock on the door, waiting for him to allow you to come in. "enter." you shakily open the door, slowing walking in. "i'm here to clean your-ah! i'm sorry i thought you said enter." you covered your eyes, embarrassed beause he was standing in a towel. "i did."

"but you're naked." he laughed. "im not naked, i have a towel, would you like me to show you naked." you shook your head. "i..it's fine, i'll just clean quickly and be on my way." hyunjin nodded watching you as began to make his bed. "so mrs.lee was your mom." you nodded, you weren't sure if you should speak, mrs.bae told you not to, and she scared you more than any high lord.

"she's been here since i was a kid, she never mentioned having a kid not once." you chuckled to yourself, but he heard you. "what's so funny?" "doesn't that kinda of defeat the purpose of the whole seen and not heard thing?" he thought about. "i guess it does."

"i didn't come up with that rule you know, it's always be installed into the workers." he spoke up. "why haven't you changed it." you mumbled to yourself as you swept off the step of the fireplace, suddenly you were being spun around. "speak up, stop mumbling." your eyes widen. "i..im sorry." he sighed.

"stop apologizing for everything, you said what was on your mind, don't go back on it." he wasn't that tall, but he was tall enough to hover over you. "what did say, say louder this time." he commanded.

"i said why haven't you changed it?"

he shrugged, "i guess i haven't really paying attention to it, guess i've doing other things." he spoke. "you mean other people." you said boldly. "oh? bold aren't we?" he smirked and you realized how close he actually was, eyes traveling down, stopping at his waist. "my eyes are up here." his hand came up to your chin ready to grab.

"hyune!" he dropped his hand rolling eyes, and you quickly turned around, just before hana skipped into the room. "i missed you." she wrapped her arms around the boy. "i seen you yesterday." you smiled to yourself, but hyunjin seen and it made him smile, knowing he got you to smile... you have such a nice smile.

"what is she doing in here?" hana finally acknowledged you, could you not get someone else, is there no one else in this big castle?" the hell did she have to be so rude for, you would've thought the tea fell on her. "hana, her mother is mrs lee, she basically raised me, she's new but with some training, she'll be a good worker." hyunjin walked over to you grabbing your shoulders. "won't you?" he whispered in your ear, like this morning, except this time he's in a towel.

"y..yes."

"good girl, you can go now, i'll see you tomorrow." you quickly grab everything, almost tripping over your dress— luckily you didn't, making your way out of the room so fast, leaving a satisfied hyunjin, and a annoyed hana.

"what game are you playing here hyunjin?" hana said once she was sure you were gone. "what are you talking about hana?" he put on his clothed for the day. "you know what i mean, are we gonna get together officially like i've been telling my friends , or am i not important anymore, is the new maid more important than me?" hyunjin turned facing hana.

"hana, what are you talking about? you knew what this was long ago, what to do you mean telling your friends." he said, he knew it was cold, but hana wasn't exactly the nicest person either, i mean hyunjin seen how she treated you. "i know but, i was hoping- there's the problem, you're hoping for the wrong thing, your mate is out there somewhere, it's just not me, we can have fun until you find him though." he kissed her cheek, leaving the pissed off fae alone in the room.

ever since you've arrived, you've done nothing but piss her off, she and hyunjin were fine before you got here and now the saddest thing is, he looks at you with love in his eyes, and he can barely spare her a glance anymore... she was pissed off.

"stay back here today, wash the dishes." mrs.bae ordered during lunch. "guess they're still a bit traumatized." beomgyu teased as they left out the kitchen for lunch.

"stupid dishes." you grumbled, plate in your hand scrubbing it. "i didn't even do anything, it was her." you were speaking to yourself. "she spilled the drink."

"who did?" hana stood in the corridor. "are you talking about me?" you shook your head, she scoffed. "look at you, you can't even speak without my permission, how dare a lesser faerie talk to hyunjin in such a unprofessional manner." she walked closer, stalking you with her eyes. "pretty pathetic if you ask me, trying to seduce him." you turned to her. "im not."

"did i say you could speak." she slammed her hand on the counter next to sink. "we may not be together, but he'll never choose a lesser fae, remember that." her eyes flashed to the sink, which started to fill up with more water, even though the sink wasn't on.

"what is-" water manipulation, she was doing this. "please don't do this." you begged, but it fell on deafs ears as it began to overflow on to the floor. "what is going on here." mrs.bae had returned back.

"look at what you did you dumb fae." hana said. "i ask you to do one simple thing and you go and mess up the floor."

"i didn't you did, you did this." everyone gasped. "what did you say?" she was fuming, how dare you have the guts to talk back. "i said- enough." mrs.bae grabbed your wrist. "she didn't mean in ma'am, we'll clean this quickly, we're sorry for the inconvenience, lunch is being served right now, so if you make your way into the dining area, and we'll clean this up right now." mrs.bae waited for hana to leave, who threw a sly smirk as she left out of the room before she turned on her stern face. "i should fire you." she hissed.

"if it wasn't for your mother, i would've fired you already." you lowered your head, once again feeling defeated. "go to your room and stay there for the rest of the evening." she instructed. "but- now!" her voice made you jump, and you made your way down to the maids quarters, embarrassed, ashamed and pissed off.

it went like that for the next 3 days, you weren't allowed to leave the maids quarters, they sent someone else to cleans hyunjins room, you'd only talk to chaewon and beomgyu.

you were ready to go back to work, you grew to love chaewon and tolerate beomgyu, but if you were being honest, you missed interacting with hyunjin, the way he talked to you made your heart flutter like you've never felt before. "maybe today will be the last day." chaewon tried to give you hope.

"then you can get back to screwing the high lord." beomgyu sat on your bed. "come on you two, we have work to attend to, it's castle cleaning day." mrs.bae walked into the room. "and beomgyu i've told you to stop entering the girls room." beomgyu apologized, knowing he'd do it again. "when will i'll be able to return to work?" you asked for the fourth time.

"when i say you can." she closed the door, leaving you alone once again. "you said that the last three days." you said to yourself really, your head hit the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

hyunjin was hoping to see you, it's been three days since he's seen you, hana did tell him what happened and that you had been in trouble, but he was starting to miss you, and the way you would shy away from him, fuck he needed to see you.

"mrs.bae?" the older woman stopped scolding beomgyu on how he was scrubbing the wall. "yes my lord." she responded."is ＿ returning anytime soon?" she looked with a confused eye. "my lord i was under the suspicion that you wanted her fired." he would never get rid of you, he hasn't felt this alive in a while. "nonsense, i'll go tell her myself she is to return to work tomorrow." he quickly made his escape before she could question him.

you were extremely bored, nothing to do. "i never thought i would miss work." you sighed to yourself. "that's good then." you thought you were hearing things. "you'll be able to come back tomorrow." you sat up, facing the man standing in the door. "really?" your eyes lit up. "that is so cool, thank you, i can't wait to get back to work!"

"wow, i come all the way down here to see you and your more happy about work." he grabbed his chest in faux pain. "im hurt princess."

"y..you came down here to see me? w...why?"

"isn't is obvious that i'm attracted to you love?" your face was hot. was he getting close? yes he was. "i thought it was pretty obvious, i didn't come down to the kitchen after avoiding it for almost 20 something years just to say hi to everyone." he sat down on your bed stroking your cheek,. "i came to see you." he whispered.

"i want you."

"h..hyunjin, we can't." you grabbed his hand. "why can't we?" he said. "come on princess, im not stupid, i seen how you almost fell to your knees when i gave you the littlest bit of attention, you mean to tell me you don't feel anything for me? hmm?"

of course you did, but this was your job, and you couldn't jeopardize that. "i...- just give me a kiss, one kiss, and we'll see how you feel right then." he held your face in his hand. "o..okay, just one kiss." you whispered.

"just one kiss." he slowly leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. it was a passionate kiss, a kiss that you would remember for the rest of your life. "princess, was that your first kiss?" he smirked pulling away. "my pretty baby is a virgin, that's why you don't think we should do it?" his words made your face burn.

"don't laugh at me." you pulled away, frowning. "im not laughing baby i swear." his lips were swollen from the kiss, you couldn't keep your eyes off them. "you want more kisses, you drunk off my kiss love?" you whined and he bit his lips. "don't make those pretty noises baby." he pulled you into another passionate kiss. "i won't be able to resist you if you whine so prettily for me." he began to kiss your neck.

"h..hyunjin." you sighed. "hmm princess?" he rubbed your sides. "i..i want you." he had you right where he wanted. "were do you want me princess." you whined, embarrassed. "you know." he did, he knew exactly where you wanted, but he wasn't gonna give you what you wanted until you told him.

"i told you i prefer when people look me in my eyes." he grabbed your chin to look at him. "and tell me what they want." you bit your lip. "i want you d..down there." your neck was on fire, as his eyes traveled down. "you want me down there, to do what?" you were about to cry from how much you needed him. "want me to give you kisses down there?" you nodded, "yes, yes i do." you finally spoke up, he smiled.

"good girl, you used your words, now lay back." you slowly layed back, he slotted his body in between your legs, lifting up your dress, pulling your underwear down. "your pussy is so pretty." he licked his bottom lip, coating it with spit. "i bet you taste amazing." he kissed your slit, licking his lip again. "i was right, you taste amazing." he dove right in, kissing and licking your sweet cunt.

"h..hyunjin!" you prayed no one would come down and hear the noises coming from your mouth and the noises he was making below. "f...feels good." he hummed into your pussy, his eyes sharp looking up at you as he ate you out.

you gripped the horrible sheets below you as he continued the assault. "h..hyunjin i..it feels funny." he detached his mouth from your clit, replacing it with his fingers. "go a head, let yourself go." he rubbed finger eights into your clit as the knot in your stomach snapped and pleasure washed over your entire boy. "good girl." he kissed your lips, tasting yourself on his lips. "how was that princess?" you smiled lazily. "g..good."

"do you want me to- next time love, next time, i just want to be with you right now." he said laying down in the uncomfortable bed next to you. "let's just lay here." he whispered into your hairs. so that's what you did, for the rest of the day, you stayed in the bed, talking only moving when hyunjin had to hide behind to door when chaewon came in to check in on you when she had a quick minute or when beomgyu snuck you in a cookie, in which hyunjin rolled his eyes in jealousy, asking why couldn't he send chaewon to do it.

"beomgyu? if you want to be jealous of anybody, i'd be jealous of chaewon before beomgyu." you laughed. "it was one cookie, he should've bought more, he has ulterior motives." he pouted and you just kissed his lips. "he likes chaewon, calm down." you gave him half of the cookie. "it's not even warm " he bit into the cookie.

sadly he eventually had to go. "i don't want to." he groaned. "you have to." you pushed him out. "hurry before they come back." he scoffed. "i'm the high lord, who i date is my concern." you smiled at him confirming your relationship. "yeah but this is my job, and mrs.bae can still fire me." you gave him one more kiss.

"fine, but i want you to clean my room tomorrow, not chaewon, i told her it was fine to speak and im starting to think one of her ancestors were the reason the reason why the rule was put in place." he kissed your forehead, before walking down the hall, turning back to look at you one more time before turning the corner, you closed the door with a dumb smile on your face.

the next morning you returned back to work the next morning, helping with breakfast, before mrs.bae told you to head to hyunjins room to clean. "okay." you said. "try not smile so hard." chaewon whispered. "huh?" you said. "beomgyu is dumb, but he isn't deaf, he heard you and the high lord talking yesterday." your eyes widened turning to beomgyu. "tell him it's most definitely just a cookie, and that im offened that he'd think i'm that desperate." you were about slap his arm when mrs.bae interrupted.

"go now." you jumped at him, before walking out of the kitchen with the supplies in your hand to his room, trying to hide the smile on your face, you couldn't wait to see him.

you knocked on the door, but he quickly opened it; pulling you in, closing it, pinning you against it. "i missed you." he kissed your lips. "you seen me yesterday." you laughed. "it felt so long ago." he tucked a strand of hair out your face. "i want to show you something." he took your hand, guiding you out the room, making sure no one was watching.

"your art room?" he nodded, opening the door. "i never let anyone in here." he said. "but yesterday i was so bored so i painted something, and i wanted to show you." he walked you to a covered easel. "you ready?" you nodded. "show me." he pulled the cover off, and your eyes widened. "m..me?" you turned to him. "i couldn't get you off my mind yesterday, so i came here to paint, i couldn't help." he wrapped his arms around you. "you've clouded my mind, i haven't thought of any girls, or anything since i first saw you."

"the first time you saw me i spilled tea all over yourself." he winced at the thought. "you were so cute, it didn't really hurt, but you were so determined to get the tea out of the shirt." you slapped his chest. "stop it." you frowned. "i'm sorry." he kissed your pouted lips. "you were so cute." he kissed you again, this time more passionately.

"h..hyunjin." he pushed you against the desk in the room, lifting you on it, pushing your dress up. "so so cute." he began to grind against your heat.

"i've been hard since yesterday, no matter how many times i tried to jerk off, im still hard." he pulled your panties down, along with his pants and underwear. "i'll be gentle i swear." he lined his cock at your heat, slowly pushing inside you. "oh fuck, you're so tight, your pussy can barely take me."he kissed your neck. "hyunjin." you moaned. "f..feel s..so full." he toyed with your clothed nipples as he fucked into you. "fuck princess, i don't think i can be with anyone else after you, you've ruined me for anyone else shit! " he felt himself about to cum. "hyunjin, im gonna cum." he nodded. "me too love." you pulled him into a passionate as you both came his cum painting your insides.

"fuck, what are you doing to me?" he breathed, his forehead against yours. "why am i falling for you so hard?"

you both cleaned yourselves off, putting your panties back on he wrapped his arms around your waist, your arms draped around his neck, he slowly swayed your bodies left to right, the both of you were so caught up with each other, you didn't even realize you were being watched.

hana was on the other side of the door seething, she thought she had gotten rid of you with the water thing. "i have to get back to the kitchen." she wanted to rip her pointed ears off to keep from hearing your giggles. "i'll come check on you later." hyunjin said. "you really need to let me work, i have a family back home to feed." hana smirked, an evil idea forming.

"how was it?" chaewon and beomgyu were chopping veggies when you returned. you rolled your eyes. "i'm not having this conversation right now." you washed your hands, getting ready to help. "i'll tell you later." you whispered. "okay." she gave you a thumbs up.

"you dumb bitch!" a loud voice made you turn around, but before you could react, a hand went straight across your face. "how dare you." you realized it was hana. "yah! you can't hit her like that." chaewon jumped in. "how dare you speak to me, you lesser fae need to learn your place." her hand went up to smack chaewon, and you snapped, grabbing her wrist, pushing it down.

"have y-" the entire kitchen went silent as they as your hand went straight across her face. "keep your hands off her." she grabbed the spot where you slapped her. "whatever you're pissed about, be pissed about it, but you don't get to treat us like trash because were servents."

"what's going on here?" mrs.bae returned from the back, hana turned on the water works. "first you seduce the high lord, knowing we're in a relationship, then you slap me like im in the wrong." your eyes widened. "bullshit, you came in here and hit her like a maniac." beomgyu cut in. "beomgyu!" mrs.bae yelled. "and she seduce anyone, he came on to her besides, you two aren't even together, he said it himself." chaewon exclaimed.

"mrs.bae is this how you run things all three of them should be fired." hana screeched. "enough!" mrs.bae yelled, it fell silence again. "you have been nothing but trouble since you've gotten here, never in my years has the castle been this discombobulated, staff talking out of order, talking when shouldn't, everything." you lowered your head, knowing what was coming. "i will have order."

"you two." she pointed to beomgyu and chaewon. "all three of you are to leave the castle and never return." you looked back up. "chaewon and beomgyu did nothing." you said. "it was pointless bringing in three young kids like you guys, go pack your stuff, you will leave at the end of the shift."

"what's going on here?" hyunjin walked into the tension filled kitchen. "hana what are you doing here?" she was silent. "there was a incident, hana was hurt but we are solving it right now- i was hit!" she screamed for more sympathy.

"i'd hit you again if he wasn't here." chaewon spat. "why are you three still here, go." mrs.bae said. "where are they going?" hyunjin asked looking at the three of you. "what happened?" he asked you. "she slapped me." hana jumped in. "hana told us how she tried to seduce you- seduce me?" he questioned.

"hana, i told you this already." he said. "yeah but she- she is my girlfriend, she didn't seduce i went after her first." everyone gasped, including hana. "her, a lesser faerie, are you serious hyunjin." he shrugged, walking up to you, pulling you right into a kiss. "does that help?" you slapped his chest. "w..why would do that, i'm at work." he smiled down at you kissing your head.

"i told you he fell first." beomgyu turned to chaewon. "it was the tea thing, told you, some people like that." chaewon slapped his arm. "everyone back to work." mrs.bae yelled. "mrs.hana, let me escort you out." the girl stomped out of the kitchen in defeat. "back to work." mrs.bae said leaving out.

"i have to get back to work." you pulled away. "wait since they're dating, do we have to listen to her?" the three of you turned to beomgyu. "shut up, just shut up." chaewon repeatedly hit him.

"no you don't beomgyu." hyunjin kissed you one more time, eyeing the boy.

"just if you're gonna bring cookies, bring some for me too."

©️LUVYENI

[linnorabeifong]

I Physically Can’t Get This Idea Out of My Head

How many people actually know Lin got her scars from Su ? I was rewatching the Zafou episodes and I don’t think Lin ever explicitly mentioned Su giving her the scars. So none of the krew knows. So I get why her anger doesn’t look justified to them and why they would pressure her to make up without that context. But I so badly want them to discover it. I want to see their reactions . I want them to see photos of Lin before she was scarred. How would their perceptions of Su and Lin change ? Would they be more empathetic towards Lin ?

Additionally I don’t think Su’s kids know the truth. Opal really loves her aunt I imagine she would be quite angry if she found out and while Lin’s bond with her nephews isn’t explored in the show ( which it should’ve been I want to see her play power disk with Wei and Wing, and praise Huan’s art and have a heart to heart with Baatar) I think they’re also attached to her and would be upset.

Further how about the air kids, Lin seems quite close to them and they’re all very curious. They’ve probably asked her several times before. Did she lie to them to protect her sister ? Does she give up and tell the truth one day ?

How about Kya, Bumi and Izumi ? Were any of them actually there when it all went down ? Did she tell them ? ( I don’t think she would it seems painful for her to talk about ) How would they react to the truth thirty years later?

Also I think Toph has the capacity for empathy. I think she’s ignorant to the full extent of Lin’s injury and that’s why she was so apathetic about it and just wants to move on. She’s blind. She never saw the bandages or saw how deep the scars ran, how large they were but if she did would she have acted differently? I think so. Sure she’s neglectful but she’s not a monster. If she actually felt the scars I think she would’ve comforted her daughter. She would’ve been more mad at Su. In her eyes Lin has a little scratch and Su was an accomplice in a crime. So if course she thinks Lin is overreacting. In her eyes sending Su away for being an accomplice is a crime is proportional to the harm done. She thinks Lin’s anger is just her being a square and normal sibling bickering. If she knew the whole truth maybe she would’ve punished Su more and made her make it up to Lin somehow.

( does she even know that Lin has a scar afterwards? Does anyone mention them in front of her ?)

and Lin would never let anyone touch her scars ever so how is Toph supposed to understand? How can she without feeling them ?

More thoughts about Toph: Raising both of the girls while being blind must’ve been difficult. Think about it she can’t see if their clothes get stained, can’t see if they have a bruise or see if they’re crying. So much of communication and understanding is nonverbal. She misses out on so many social cues and so much visual information. On top of being blind both her and Lin dislike physical affection.So all they really have left is verbal communication and both of them are too emotionally stunted and prone to bottling things up to ever say what they need to. Let’s be honest Toph isn’t a great listener either so she probably doesn’t fully realize/respond to what Lin is trying to say. Lin may be better at writing out or drawing her emotions but Toph wouldn’t be able to read what she wrote or see her visual work. Lin would have to learn braille and sit down and write in it to get her mother to understand which I honestly don’t believe she has the patience or desire to do. Nor do I believe Toph has the patience or desire to sit down and read all of that. ( Does Toph know braille ?) They can’t communicate with each other properly. There are so many barriers. Of course their relationship is strained. While it may not be wholly Toph’s fault it has produced a huge impact on both of her daughters that none of them can address.

An epiphany : LIN IS A SILENT CRIER. She doesn’t sob. Are you following me? Rewatch the Zafou episode if you don’t believe me . Nonverbal - audio communication ( I don’t know if there’s an actual word for this) doesn’t happen between them. Lin isn’t vocally expressive. She doesn’t cry out loud or scream or make any other vocalizations when she is in physical or emotional pain. She may grunt in some of the fight scenes but she isn’t loud. Think about when she got her bending taken. Probably one of the most physically and emotionally painful moments of her entire life. In that scene she didn’t make a single sound. Or the reverse she got her bending restored a huge moment of relief she didn’t laugh or make any other sounds of joy. She just thanked Korra. Lin is silent . Toph can’t hear her.

In conclusion communication is everything and everyone of them needs therapy.

[thehollowwriter]

The Official Bio Ezra Citlalli

Basic Info:

Name: Ezra Citlalli (see-la-lee)

Homeland: The Afterglow Savanna

Species: Jaguar beastman

Birthday: 24th March

Age: 68

Height/length: 189cm

Dominant hand: Right

Occupation: Fashion designer, ex model

Family:

Several ex husbands who all died mysteriously

Unnamed parents (deceased)

Unnamed cousins

Godson: Finn

Preferences:

Hobbies: Wine tasting, travelling

Likes: Fashion, wine, singing, performing

Dislikes: Shallow people, people who don't listen to him, quite a few of the younger celebrities, his exes (that's not true, he swears, he's mourning them all deeply to this day 😢)

Favourite food: Caviar

Least favourite food: Asparagus

Appearance:

Ezra is tall, lanky, and black (as in VERY dark skin). His hair is short and curly, wine red and orange with silvery grey streaks starting to run through, and his eyes are dark red. He has Jaguar spots/marking on his wrists, neck, lower back, and ankles.

He just radiates elegance in a similar way to Vil and carries himself in a way that makes you feel he might be royalty made from glass, even though he is ridiculously strong.

Ezra has retractable claws he often paints with gold nail polish, and he has large sharp teeth similar to that of a jaguar's. He also has Jaguar ears and a tail.

Personality:

If elegant was a personality trait, Ezra seems to have it. He's very calm and collected but can spit fire if he feels like it. He can be uptight, strict, and serious and is viewed by some as stuck up, but he considers that to be more of a stage persona.

Ezra is very passionate, creative, imaginative, and kind to those he's close to. He's a firm believer in his own unique brand of tough love, where he won't be needlessly cruel or mean, but he's not going to tiptoe around your feelings, especially if he feels the person he's close to is struggling and needs help.

He has a sense of humour and drips sarcasm at times. He's got wine aunt energy, to be honest. He DOES love wine.

Some Fun Facts/Extra Info

•Ezra is loosely twisted from Tanya from Mamma Mia

•Ezra was one of Morrigan's best friends at NRC and remained his friend until he died

•He comes from a strict, wealthy family and gravitated towards Morrigan due to their similar desires to just rebel and give them the middle finger

•Ezra was the housewarden of Pomefiore during his time at NRC

•He used to be a famous singer but decided to switch careers in his early 30s

•While he was terrified of ageing and was jealous people like the fae, his time with Silas had him reconsider his views on age and find the beauty in it

•He keeps offering to help Silas pay for stuff, but Silas keeps turning him down

•Jaguar beastmen are extremely rare, and part of Ezra's "allure," so to speak, is being this exotic, beautiful, and rare creature (he hates it so much)

•Ezra is one of Finn's two godfathers

...........................................

A/N: I hope you like my new skrunkle! It's really fun expanding Morrigan's life and Finn's family:) Big thanks to one of my friends for helping me work on him

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

[calciumcryptid]

My Mother Watches We Are [ Ep 11 - 12 ]

*continues the dog jokes*

*crying over water motif*

Phum: Stay here, please.

Mother: That is the scariest part, he said please.

She loves Tan and TanFang so much.

*so many PhumPeem pet play jokes*

Mother: Oh, Phum thinks they're married.

*makes remarks about Q being suspicious of PhumPeem*

*giggling about QToey*

Phum: -so I can take care of you.

Mother: Okay daddy.

*snorts at the cat noises*

*giggling at TanFang*

Mother: The cast is not beating the dog allegations.

*After making a joke about Phum and Peem doing the nasty in the campus art studio, she proceeded to tell me how she physically disabled several campus cameras so she and others could get away with having sex*

*giggling over TanFang sex scene*

*giggling over PhumPeem in the art studio*

*face going somber when Kluen shows up*

She called Title attractive though (that is Aou, Winny, Poon, and now Title).

Mother: Peem should invite Kluen to the hangout.

Me: Why?

Mother: I want to see Phum piss on Peem again.

*freaks out at Phums confession*

*hollering at Peem's challenge*

*more dog jokes*

She finally realized Winny is Win from My School President (I am so proud; we have yet to get to Sound in that series).

*giggling over PhumPeem flirting era*

Mother: Wait, this whole time Toey and Peem have been brothers?

Me: No. It is a pseudo-brothership.

Mother: Oh thank god, I thought I missed something important.

*giggling and laughing over PhumPeem*

*giggling over ChainPun*

Mother: Come on Peem, you heard your aunt, take your Chow Chow on a walk.

There isn't much to add for a bit, mainly giggling over how cute everyone is.

She greatly dislikes the parents.

*cries over the hug*

*cries over TanFang*

Mother: THEY ARE SO FUCKING ADORABLE-

*dies over the train scene*

*dies over the seafood joke*

*dies over the pony*

*cries over PhumPeem*

[fairyqueentitana]

Let's Talk about Adrien.

Adrien Agreste is the main male character of The Miraculous Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noir. This is a continuation of my previous post entitled Let's Talk about Marinette.

His relationship with Chloe: I understand that she was his only friend in a family that severely restricted his relationships. However, I do not believe Adrien understands that friendship is an excuse to defend or excuse bad behaviour. When it is made clear that Chloe is a bully, he often encourages others to forgive her or ignore the problem. When her victims are happy that she is leaving he lectures them. I understand that Adrien is very naive and sheltered however he unknowingly seems to victim blame.

His emotional cheating: While he is "with" Kagami he still has feelings or an attraction to Ladybug. This is shown when he continues to flirt with his superhero partner on multiple occasions. While I understand they may have been pressured into their relationship and possibly bonded over their relationship with their parents that is not acceptable.

His relationship with Ladybug: Putting it simply he is in love with someone who doesn't love him. In his attempts to pursue this relationship with his constant flirting, he gets distracted and often puts himself in danger which could be avoided if he was focused. His love for her is a bit concerning when he completely changes himself for her. Once again folks you don't change key parts of your identity just to fit someone else's mould because you love them. Worse yet he changed to suit his public civilian persona that he knows everyone would love, a persona that is not him. He puts himself in a cage to suit her when Chat Noir gives him freedom from that cage. I cannot as an aunt, friend and sister encourage those in my social circle to ever do that.

The Lila Rossi problem: While I can blame his response on his upbringing I will only say this once. Adrien could have just told Alya and Nino what happened with ladybug and everything would have been settled. Instead, he chose to keep quiet. There is also the fact that he only realised how Lila was when she got Marinette expelled yet he still stayed silent. As Edmund Burke once said, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

The tantrum thrown in Syren: Once again they are teenagers however he really took off his miraculous cause she was instructed by the person who gave them their miraculous to stay quiet? Then in that same moment did not listen to his kwami and was ready to abandon Paris simply cause he was mad. I am not even touching this with another person's polyjuiced body holding a ten-foot pole.

An anon recently assumed that I disliked the show based on my criticisms of Marinette but I don't. All good characters need flaws without flaws a perfect character is boring. However, there are some things I feel compelled to comment on. Adrien is a teenage boy who is growing up in a home with an emotionally manipulative and negligent father he has flaws. However, I cannot excuse all his actions.

[roosteraloha]

delightful ❄️

Bradley Bradshaw × Reader

wc - 1.9k

warnings - FLUFF, talks of seasonal depression & spending the holiday season alone.

disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!

a/n - this fic is part of the wonderful @sailor-aviator’s Christmas Challenge!! this is my first writing challenge & my first seasonal fic! hope y’all enjoy this one 🤍 title is taken from ‘let it snow’ ❄️

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Christmas. The holiday season that everyone around you seemed to love. You however struggled this time of year, being so far away from what little family you had left was never easy on a regular day, holidays just amplified that longing - something Bradley could relate to all too well.

You couldn’t lie, you loved how the twinkling Christmas lights helped to cheer in the cold, dark nights. But you dreaded being alone, when everyone around you couldn’t stop raving about going home for the holidays and growing more and more excited, while your seasonal depression worsened.

At the first mention of tnr holiday season, Bradley was expecting you to be full of seasonal cheer, but in a way was gladly surprised that you too had lacked the stereotypical family atmosphere during the holidays. He lost both his parents and have a very fractured relationship with Maverick, his only real family, which led to many years he spent the entire holiday season alone. You had very little family left, those who you did have, an estranged aunt and uncle you barely knew, lived halfway across the world. The relationship between you was basically nonexistent, and there was no way ok your meagre salary, that you could afford to fly out to spend the holidays with them.

When you had met Bradley, you were initially cautious of his attitude towards the holiday period. There was no way you could be in a friendship or a relationship with someone who lives and breathes the season. You wouldn’t be able to stand it. You heart lifted when it was revealed that Bradley had the same attitude as you, he wasn’t going to try and change you and your feelings. Instead, he’d respect them and let you celebrate however much or little you wanted.

When December arrived, you immediately became much more gloomy and irritated. You didn’t need to look at the calendar to know the reasoning behind your sudden distaste for everything and everyone around you. The nights grew longer and darker, and you felt less and less like yourself. Bradley had severely underestimated how much you disliked the holidays, assuming you were just being over dramatic like you were known to be on subjects you felt strongly about. He swore that his heart physically hurt knowing how much you hated the holidays, the switch from your usual chipper routine, to barely being able to drag yourself out of bed for work.

You sighed heavily, collapsing onto the sofa, ignoring the snort from Bradley at your dramatics. “What now?” He chuckled, you got very dramatic around stressful situations, and the holiday season was the highlight. Truly he did care about how you were doing, but he only found amusement in these situations due to the one time you broke down crying laughing at how badly you’d overreacted over a tiny trivial thing, he knew you’d never take offence to his laughter.

“I completely forgot that everybody decides to do their Christmas shopping so incredibly last minute!! Like, why are you shopping for presents the week before the holidays?!” You huffed dramatically, unable to withhold your laughter at Bradley’s expression, trying desperately to hold a straight face while you acted out your day. “I don’t know, baby. But I’m thankful for them providing me with this entertainment.” You gasped in faux outrage at his words, grabbing a pillow from beside you and throwing it in his direction without looking, yelling in victory when you heard him yell at the unanticipated contact.

Bradley was cautious about voicing his next statement, already anticipating you to blow up at him, but being polite like his mother raised him to be, “Y’know, you shouldn’t be cooped up in your tiny apartment for Christmas.” He held the cushion in front of him, a pathetic attempt at a shield from your incoming wrath. Eyes widening at your sudden silence, he was quick to add, “Bub…I just meant, I also have to spend the holidays alone, in this big empty house.” He’s by your side now, hands running placatingly on your arms. “What if we spend it together? We can pick out a tree from that lot that Bob can’t stop raving about, you can teach me to bake those cookies we talked about, maybe just make it like any other day, if that’s what you really want?”

Your tense expression melted, tears seeking up in your eyes, not entirely certain whether it was due to the season, or your loving, highly attentive to detail boyfriend’s reaction and creation of alternatives for you, other than your entirely more depressing current tradition of spending the day in your bed, pillow over your head and duvet pulled over you.

Bradley froze at your sudden emotional breakdown. Presuming he had spoken out of turn and instead of pissing you off, had broken your heart, something he swore to himself and his parents that he would never do to you. Internally panicking momentarily, relaxing when you merely snuggled closer to him, curling up on his lap, your head buried in his neck.

The house was cold. That was the first thing you noticed when you got to Bradley’s late after your shift on Christmas Eve. You lived in San Diego. It did not get this cold, ever. Frowning, you trudge through the entryway, kicking off your shoes, then wincing as your socked feet meet the cold tiled floor. You called out for Bradley, he had texted you before you left work, asking you to come over, you assumed for a quick present swap. He had been ignoring your texts and calls since you gave him confirmation that you would be there. He must’ve turned the air conditioning down as low as it could go, which in summer would have been luxurious, but now?

Now, the drizzle and gloom outside was continued indoors, which kept you frowning as you move through the house looking for Bradley.

Hearing soft humming of Christmas songs from the kitchen, you scurry through the house, keeping your feet off the cold floor as best you could. You’d have to get Bradley to fix the AC. “Woah! Stop there! Close your eyes, this is a surprise, sweetheart!” You groaned, reluctantly closing your eyes, feeling a warm presence move in front of you, a soft kiss being pressed to the top of your head as a soft silk is tied delicately over your eyes.

“Bradley…” you whine softly, trusting him, but clueless as to where this was going. He chuckled, his breath fanning gently onto your cheek, a welcome warmth from the chill in the air. Rubbing his hand up and down your arms, appreciative that you were still in your thin work uniform, trying to warm you back up as best he could, “I’m gonna lead you upstairs, then I’m changing you into something warmer, okay?” You whined at the sheer unknown, but gave into the significant trust you had in your boyfriend.

He carefully pulled off your uniform, his warm hands welcome against your cold skin, goosebumps erupting down your arms. A soft, fleecy, warm shirt was pulled up your arms, and Bradley buttoned it up with immense care and precision. Next were the fleecy pants, which you felt were too long for you, and giggled as Bradley pulled on a fresh pair of fuzzy socks. You squealed as Bradley scooped you up bridal style, peppering your face with soft kisses, chuckling at your soft laughter.

Downstairs, he places you gently onto the couch, greeted now by a warmth the room lacked when you arrived. Warm breath fans gently across your cheek as Bradley gently unties the blindfold, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light. The room is bathed in a soft warm light, the scraggly tree you both had picked out and decorated the week before was twinkling softly, but wasn’t what made your eyes well with tears. The fireplace that usually stayed empty due to the warm California weather, was crackling with fresh logs, the fire casting a warm and cosy glow over the entire room.

There was also an extra stocking hanging from the mantle. Where usually there were just three - Goose, Carole and Bradley - there was one with your name lovingly hand stitched, matching the theme of the original trio. Swallowing thickly you glance at Bradley who shrugged nonchalantly, "I didn't have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don't mind if I spend it with you. Share old traditions…Maybe make some of our own…”

Throwing yourself at him, you hug Bradley tightly. It had been mentioned only in passing that growing up you never had your own stocking like most children, and your only happy holiday memory was spending quality time snuggled together with your family in front of the fireplace.

Bradley ran a soothing hand across your cheek, wiping away the tears you were unaware had started to fall. You had never had someone pay such attention to minute details you shared, not expecting them to remember them months later.

But Bradley was not someone from your past.

He is your future.

Several classic Christmas movies later, you were snuggled closely against Bradley’s side, under one of the seasonal blankets he ‘allowed’ you to keep at his place, It’s a Wonderful Life playing in the background. Your half drunk mugs of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table alongside platters of sweet treats Bradley had bought just for the two of you to share, alongside the decorated sugar cookies that the pair of you had made from an old recipe of Carole’s.

Humming contentedly, you crane your neck to glance up at the face of your loving boyfriend, feeling your eyes on him, he turns, kissing you lovingly, pulling you closer to him. “Happy?” You nod against his shoulder, “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years, Bradley.” He smiles softly at your words, “You know, if you wanted…” He shrugged, trailing off, frowning, you shift and straddle his lap to get a better look at him. “What? If I wanted to what?” Bradley shook his head, a bashful expression on face, narrowing your eyes, you grabbed his chin gently, forcing him to look at you again.

“I wanna spend every Christmas like this with you.”

“Every Christmas?”

He nods.

“Move in with me.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Because I miss you when you’re not- Wait, yes?! You’ll move in?!” His expression frozen, not believing his ears.

Nodding and kissing him once, his eyes light up, grin taking over his face, laughing joyfully, tugging you close to his chest, covering your face in kiss after kiss after kiss. You join him in laughter at his reaction, tugging him down to lay on top of you, being lovingly overwhelmed by everything Bradley.

If this is how every Christmas would end up, snuggled up in front of a fireplace with the love of your life?

If this is what your future looks like, then you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Bradley.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

am I the asshole for going to my bedroom to eat instead of eating dinner with my family?

this is kind of- a couple years old of a story, but it dwells on us a lot. we realized we could send this here and see what others think - because we feel like we were justified and in the right completely, but we still just, get very upset over this and would appreciate other opinions. (from here out, will be using we/us pronouns.)

we are physically and mentally disabled, 20 years old and currently dependant on our mother and grandmother. we have autism and anxiety, are the mental things most relevant for this story(also - these mental disabilities are entirely known by all of our family members). we aren't diagnosed with anything for our physical disabilities, but we suspect we have chronic fatigue syndrome, and we have something causing severe chronic pain.

our aunt had come to visit with her fiance, from another state, and was spending a couple of days with our family.

we enjoy cooking, and we're good at it. we offered to cook dinner for everyone, and because of our aunt disliking mushrooms, she asked us to make a second, separate batch of what we were making for the meal. okay, we're a picky eater as well. we were just happy to be able to make something that we thought everyone would like - and everyone *did* like it! it all turned out really good, the texture of the batch we made for our aunt was a little different than we expected and we were used to, but it all was still really good.

we had been cooking for like...an hour and a half. the entire time, we were out there with our family. there were a lot of people. we had to share the kitchen at one point as well, because our aunt wanted a specific side dish with the meal that we couldn't make, it was her and her fiance who made it.

by the time we'd finished cooking, we were in a lot of pain, tired, overheating, and drained. not to mention just generally hungry. so, we took a bowl of the food we'd made, told everyone that food was ready and they could help themselves. and then tried to go to our bedroom.

every time we cook, we go back to our bedroom with our food, even when it's for a smaller group. we need that chance to recharge.

our aunt started to get on our ass a bit, saying something like "you're not going to stay out and eat with us?" and we essentially responded "no? I'm tired." she essentially stated "but you know, sometimes, family comes first!"

she and her fiance started to get on our ass about it more. note that, her fiance? he is not someone we consider family. we don't dislike him, but he's not someone we know. he is an acquaintance at best. he will be family to us legally when he marries her, and that's it.

it felt like they were ganging up on us, trying to change how we've always done this. we made them food, and an entirely separate batch of it as well, with one alteration, that changed the entire cooking process of the meal. the mushrooms are the very first thing to go in. and we had to handle both different dishes at once - something we had never done before.

we were doing an event together the very next day. "I'll be at the event tomorrow the entire time" is what we pretty much said, before going to our room anyways. (side note - she completely ditched our entire family to spend the entire time with her friends at this event.)

at some later point in her visit, we tried to explain somewhat, "I have mental health issues that make this difficult, and I was in pain, I needed a break." and she essentially said something like "sometimes you need to push through that and just do it anyways." we got frustrated and said "whatever, you don't understand." she tried to say "no, I do understand-" but we stopped her and said "no, you don't." then continued with something else we were doing.

we feel like she was being ableist as fuck, but also just generally rude. but pretty much that's where this ends off. we've thought about this so often since it happened and just want other peoples' opinions I guess.

What are these acronyms?

[gogandmagog]

For @alwayschasingrainbows. Another long-owed item! I think this is the short you were hunting up, a few months ago? I couldn’t find the original post because I’m lame, and never tag things right, so I guess I’m really just hoping this is it!

The Price, by Lucy Maud Montgomery, from After Many Days, Tales of Time Passed.

ON THE DAY when Dr. Lennox told Agatha North that she was out of danger and would soon be as well as ever, if she took proper care of herself, Agatha smiled her old, gallant smile up at him and Christine and Nurse Ransome.

"That's the most interesting thing you've said this long while," she told him. 'I was beginning to think you were stupid - your conversation has been so dull. I'm glad I'm going to get better. I want to live. There are so many things I want to do yet. And, oh, I'd hate to die and leave all my nice dishes and my open fire - and that row of tulips I planted out the day I took sick." Christine and Dr. Lennox laughed, the former with a note of heartfelt relief in her laughter. It was so nice to hear Agatha say a whimsical little thing like that again.

She had been so ill; the attack of bronchitis had been very severe, and there were complications. But all was well now; she would soon be her old self again - darling Agatha. Christine bent and kissed her impulsively.

Nurse Ransome had not smiled, did not intend to smile. Her small, pale, watery eyes expressed entire disapproval of such frivolity on her patient's part; her narrow white face seemed to Christine narrower and whiter than ever. Christine hated her; she had not wanted to have her on the case, but no other nurse could be had at the time, and Miss Ransome was certainly competent. Nurse Ransome could not hate - she had not enough intensity for that - but she disliked Christine and pretended to herself that she disdained her. She would have said that Christine was a vain, proud, selfish, thoughtless, idle chatterbox. All of this, and more, was true; but it was equally true, though Nurse Ransome would never have said it, that Christine was an exquisitely pretty, loving, winsome, sensitive creature.

Dr. Lennox was thinking this, as he looked at her across Agatha's bed. He was madly in love with Christine, as all Harrowsdene knew. They were not engaged yet, but everybody took it for granted they soon would be. A good many people thought Dr. Lennox was making a mistake. of course, Christine was a North and would eventually be the heiress of Agatha's not inconsiderable estate, including "Whiteflowers"; but then she was such a wild, laughing thing, "a pretty butterfly," Dr. Lennox's aunt called her contemptuously. She thought, they said, of nothing but dress, dances and beaus, and "spinning street yarn." She laughed and talked too much and too freely - "you always heard her before you saw her." "A doctor's wife above all things should know how to hold her tongue - she would ruin his practice." She was far too intimate with Jen Keefe and her set; she was delicate; she was extravagant; she was, in short, thoroughly spoiled.

Ward Lennox had been told all these things at sundry times and by divers people, and they had made no impression on him at all. He had loved Christine from the moment of their first meeting, and he meant to ask her to marry him as soon as he could muster up the courage to do it. In his eyes she was all but perfection; her few faults were but the faults of petted youth; the only thing he seriously disapproved of in her was her intimacy with Jen Keefe, that lady of the pale gold hair and over-large dark eyes and free-and-easy ways. But once Christine was his wife she would see no more of the Keefes. Ward Lennox fondly believed that he could mould Christine to his views in all things; he had no idea of the strength of will that lay hidden under the soft curves and behind the coquettish eyes of her youth.

Agatha smiled up adoringly into Christine's face. They were cousins, but Agatha was the senior by twenty years.

She had brought Christine up, when the latter was orphaned by the death of both father and mother in baby-hood: 'Whiteflowers was the only home Christine had ever known. She loved it and she loved Agatha passion-ately. But then everybody loved Agatha North, that busy, kindly, charitable, broad-minded, wonderful woman, who was always helping somebody or something, always planning and engineering and succeeding, always full of life and interest and zest and wholesome laughter. Why, Harrowsdene could not get along without Agatha North.

A sensation of relief and gladness went over the whole town like a wave when Dr. Lennox went away from "Whiteflowers" that day and spread the news that Agatha was going to get better and would be about in a few weeks. There had been anxiety; bronchitis so easily ran to pneumonia, and Agatha had the "North heart.”

Before he went away Dr. Lennox explained the change of medicines to Nurse Ransome and Christine.

"She is listening to him, not to what he says," thought Nurse Ransome, watching Christine covertly.

Christine was more aware of Ward Lennox than of what he was saying. She thrilled with a delicious sense of his nearness; she was acutely conscious of his tall straightness, his glossy black hair, his luminous dark blue eyes, and the passionate tenderness she sensed behind the aloofness of his professional manner. But she heard what he said distinctly and remembered it per fectly for all this. She never forgot anything Ward said to her. In all the world there was no music like his voice.

"This is her regular medicine," said the doctor. "Give her four of these tablets every three hours. This," he held out another smaller bottle, "is only to be used if she has one of those restless attacks at night and cannot sleep. Give her one of these tablets - on no account more than one - every four hours if necessary. Two would be dangerous - three fatal. I'll set the bottle up on this little shelf by itself."

It was Christine's turn to sit up that night. Nurse Ransome repeated the caution about the tablets before she went to her room. Christine listened with a slightly mutinous, insolent expression; there was no need of Nurse Ransome's reminders. She had not forgotten what Ward had said; she was not a child. She sent a glance of pettish dislike after the spare figure of the nurse. She felt that Nurse Ransome insinuated doubts to the doctor as to her fitness for waiting on Agatha; it was agony to think he might have or acquire a poor opinion of her in this respect. Christine was vain and abnormally proud; she could not bear to be looked down upon by anybody for any reason. She hated Nurse Ransome because she felt that Nurse Ransome looked down upon her. Christine would have gone to the stake in olden days, not for her religion, but for dread of the contempt she would incur from her co-religionists if she proved too weak for the test of martyrdom. The most acute suffering of her childhood had been endured when a schoolmate had publicly taunted her with a distant cousin of the Norths who had been sent to prison for forgery. She never forgot the shame and humiliation and torture of that day.

Agatha was very restless that night. At the best of times she was liable to sleeplessness - strangely so for her type. At ten o'clock Christine gave her one of the tablets and at two another. She was very careful to set the bottle back on the bookshelf. She was afraid of it. She hoped Agatha would not need it again.

When a week had passed Agatha was feeling so well that she wanted to be allowed to sit up. Dr. Lennox would not permit it. He told her her heart was not yet tit for any exertion. "You must lie here for another week yet. Then I may let you sit up for a few minutes every day."

"You tyrant!" she said, smiling up at him. 'He is a tyrant, isn't he, Christine? My heart isn't going to kill me. My grandmother had the same kind of a heart and she lived for ninety-five years. I'm going to live for ninety-five years - and enjoy every minute of them, and do a thou sand things I want to do.

She laughed up at him and Christine. Dr. Lennox laughed back - dimples came out in his cheeks when he laughed - said good-night, and went out of the room.

Christine put the green shade over the light, and sat down by the window. It was her night to watch again, but the night vigils by now were little more than matters of form. Agatha had never required the sleeping tablets since that first night. She slept soundly, seldom waking until dawn. The sinister little bottle had never been taken down from the bookshelf.

Christine at the window began to dream, looking out into the chilly moonlit night of October. She was beginning to wish acutely that Agatha were quite well. She was getting tired of the sick room, tired of the monotonous existence which Agatha's illness had necessitated. She wanted to get back to her gay round of social doings again, the dances, the teas, the dinners, all the diversions of the little town. She wanted to wear her pretty dresses and jewels again - Christine loved jewels. Agatha had given her a string of tiny real pearls and a glittering Spanish hair comb for her last birthday. She had never had a chance to wear them yet. She wanted to flood

"Whiteflowers" with music again. Next to her love for Ward, music was Christine's most intense passion, and she had not touched her piano since Agatha became ill.

She wanted to get off for a weekend at Jen Keefe's Mus-koka lodge for the deer-shooting. She knew Agatha wouldn't want her to go, but she meant to go for all that.

It was nothing but sheer envy that made people talk about Mrs. Keefe and her set. There was nothing wrong bound by silly old conventions with them; they were gay and up-to-date and not hide-

Then she let herself think of Ward Lennox - gave herself up to a vivid dream of their life together. She forgot her surroundings totally until she was recalled to them by a realization that Agatha was moving uneasily on her pillows.

Christine went to the bed. "Do you want anything?"

"I think I must have one of those tablets," said Agatha.

"My restlessness has just returned - I thought perhaps it wouldn't - I've been doing so well lately. But for half an hour now I've just wanted to toss and scream."

Christine went over to the table, took down the bottle and returned with a tablet. She moved a little absently, for she was still partially in her dream of Ward.

After Agatha had taken her tablet she soon fell asleep.

It was now eleven o'clock. Christine went back to the window and dreamed herself into a doze, leaning back in her big upholstered chair. She did not awaken until Agatha called her. It was the first time she had slept on guard.

"Would you like another tablet, dear?"

"No. The restlessness is gone. I think I'll sleep normally now - but since I'm awake, give me my regular dose. Ugh, when will I ever get square with Ward Lennox for all those hundreds of detestable little white tablets he's made me swallow? But after all they're preferable to the nauseous tablespoonfuls of liquid his father used to inflict on me."

Christine went over to the table rather stupidly. She yawned - she was not wholly awake yet. The clock in the parlour below was striking three. She counted the strokes absently as she took out the four tablets. Agatha sat up in bed to wash them down with a sip of water from the glass Christine held to her lips. She had been warned not to do this and now she slipped back with a sigh.

"I'm weaker than I thought I was."

"Is there anything else you'd like?" Christine asked, smothering another yawn.

"No, no, dear. I'm all right. It's only that I rather feel as if I were a dish of jelly and would all fall apart if violently jarred," said Agatha. "Go back to your chair and rest all you can. Sitting up like this is too hard on you - you're not strong. But you won't have to sit up many more nights. How glad I'll be when I'm well again. It will be so nice to keep my house again - and read my books - and eat just what I want - and be finally rid of that respectable female, Miss Ransome."

Christine went back, but she was thoroughly wakened up now and did not want to sleep. Agatha was soon asleep again. Moving softly, Christine turned on the light by the dressing table, screened it from the sick bed, and sat down before the mirror. Taking the pins out of the masses of her rich glossy black hair she began to experiment with various ways of hairdressing. Christine loved to do this. She was very proud and fond of her beautiful hair, and was in the habit of spending hours at her glass, sleeking and brushing it. After several experiments she got it up in a new way she liked exceedingly. She would wear it like that to Jen Keefe's next dance - with her Spanish comb in it. She slipped across the hall to her own room, and returned with the comb, and put it in her hair. How pretty she was! She leaned her elbows on the table, cupped her chin in her hands, and studied her reflected face earnestly. How very white her skin was!

What a delicate bloom was on her round modelled cheeks. How golden-brown her eyes were behind their long black lashes; her forehead was rather high, but this new way of doing her hair banished that defect. Her neck and arms were lovely. She was the prettiest girl in Har. rowsdene, there was no doubt of that. And the happiest.

And she would be happier yet - when she married Ward.

Oh, she was going to have a splendid, joyous life - ever so much gayer than life at "Whiteflowers" had been.

Though Agatha was a darling, she did not care much for social doings. But as young Mrs. Ward Lennox, she could do as she liked. Ward adored her - he would give her her own way in everything. No "settling down" for her into any poky routine of married life, looking after babies and pantry supplies. No, indeed - not for years to come. She hated children anyhow, children and housework. She was young and beautiful: she would grasp at all youth and beauty could give her. For years to come she would know the joy of pleasing the eyes of men.

She would entertain: Harrowsdene should have its eyes opened. And she would never give up Jennie. Ward didn't like her, she knew, but he would get over that. He would have to get over his strict old-fashioned notions about things. She loved Jennie; Jennie was a dear thing, so gay and good-hearted. Of course, she wasn't an old Calvinistic prude like most of the Harrowsdene women - like all of them, except Agatha. She believed in living and letting live. So did Christine.

"I'm - going - to - do - exactly - as - I - please," she nodded with every word at the radiant face in the glass.

"'I'm - going - to - have - a - splendid - time."

She touched her lovely shoulders admiringly.

"How sorry I am for ugly women," she said. "What can they have to live for? But, of course, there must be some to do the stupid drudgery of life. We who are beautiful should be exempt from all that. It is just enough that we are beautiful."

She laughed softly again, softly, triumphantly, inso-lenily, defiant of fate - the last laughter of her youth.

It was dawn now. Agatha still slept. Christine turned off the mirror light and went to the open window. The grounds of 'Whiteflowers" were very lovely in the faint, pearly lustre. The wind was whistling rather eerily in the dead reeds of the little swampy hollow behind "White-flowers," but the sky was exquisite, with white clouds floating across it.

It was going to be a fine day. Christine was glad. She hated dull stormy days. She would go to see Jen in the afternoon. She hadn't been anywhere since Agatha took ill. But there was no need to mew herself up any longer.

She turned and went over to the bed. Agatha was lying on the pillows, her face turned to the grey light. Something about it sent a strange, horrible dart of vague dismay to Christine's heart. She bent once and touched Agatha's cheek. Christine had never touched a dead person's cheek before - but she knew - she knew.

A shriek of terror broke from her lips. Nurse Ransome, who had just been coming across the hall, rushed through the doorway, followed by old Jean, the house-keeper, who had been on her way downstairs. Nurse Ransome saw at a glance what had happened, but she went promptly to work with all proper attempts at re-vival. Jean was dispatched downstairs to telephone for the doctor. White, shaking, useless, Christine was told to open the other window.

Christine went uncertainly toward the window. On her way she passed the table where the medicine bottle stood. Suddenly she stopped, looking at it. The bottle of sleeping tablets was on it. It had not been put up in its place at eleven o'clock. The bottle of regular tablets was back in the corner, half hidden by the window curtain, just as it had been at eleven o'clock.

What had she given to Agatha at three o'clock?

A hideous conviction suddenly took possession of her mind. She remembered - as if the whole incident rose out of subliminal depths into consciousness - she remembered feeling the raised letters of the poison bottle in her fingers as she counted out the four tablets. The regular medicine bottle was smooth. Her conscious mind, dulled by sleep, had not been aware of what she was doing - had retained no memory of it. But she knew what she had done. At eleven o'clock, her thoughts still tangled in the cobweb meshes of her voluptuous dream-ing, she had forgotten to put the sleeping tablets safely back on the shelf. At three o'clock she had picked up the bottle and given Agatha four tablets from it. Four - and three were fatal!

A sensation of deadly cold went over her from head to foot - then nausea, horrible, beyond expression. She fought it off, and, blindly obeying the dictates of an impulse that had no connection with reason but rushed furiously up from the deeps of being, she caught the poison bottle in her icy hand and set it on the shelf, with one wild, terrified look back at Nurse Ransome. Nurse Ransome had not seen; she was busy with what had been Agatha.

Christine felt herself falling - falling - falling - into unimagined, unimaginable depths of horror. She slid down to the floor by the table, unconscious.

AGATHA NORTH'S DEATH, coming when everyone had supposed she was beyond all danger, shocked Harrowsdene to its centre. She had died in her sleep from heart failure, Dr. Lennox said. He had known it was possible, but as she herself had said, her grandmother had lived to old age with just the same kind of a heart, so he had not been much afraid of it. There was no doubt - no suspi-cion. Everybody was very sorry for Christine who seemed, it was said - for but few people saw her - to be dazed by the blow.

When Christine had recovered consciousness in her own room, Dr. Lennox and Nurse Ransome had tried to keep her there, but she broke away from them with unnatural strength and ran wildly to Agatha's room.

Nurse Ransome was quite disgusted with her entire lack of self-control. She had screamed - laughed - implored Agatha to speak to her - look at her. Agatha had always answered her when she called before. Now she did not even open her eyes - her beautiful, large-lidded eyes.

Christine had wrung her hands and torn her hair. Mingled with all her horror and agony was incredulity.

This thing could not have happened. Agatha could not be dead - it was absurd - impossible. Why didn't they do something?

"Everything has been done - everything," said Ward

Lennox compassionately. Even he did not like this frenzy of Christine's. But she was very young and this was her first sorrow. Agatha had been everything to her, mother, sister, comrade.

Under all Christine's agony was a horror of the discovery of what she had done, and a mad, unreasoning determination that it must not be discovered. She fainted again when she was forced to accept the fact that Agatha was dead; when she recovered she was calm, spent, quiet. She learned that Ward thought Agatha had died of heart failure; no one seemed to have the slightest inkling of the truth. Nurse Ransome questioned her concerning the events of the night, sharply enough, with a shrewish glint in her eyes, as was her way, but evidently without suspicion. Christine told her tale unhesitatingly, looking straight into Nurse Ransome's eyes as she told it. She was glad it was Nurse Ransome and not Ward Lennox who asked her. She could not, she thought, have told that story unshrinkingly to him.

Agatha had been very restless at eleven - she had given her one sleeping tablet and she had slept until three. Then she had asked for her usual medicine.

"I gave it to her," said Christine unquailingly, "and then she went to sleep again."

"Was there anything unusual about her?" asked Nurse Ransome. "Did she complain of anything?"

"I noticed nothing unusual." Christine's voice was steady and even. "She spoke of feeling her weakness - and she raised herself up to take her tablets before I could prevent her.

Nurse Ransome nodded.

"The exertion may have affected her heart a little. She must have died soon after three o'clock, Dr. Lennox says. It is strange you never noticed anything before morning."

"I was sitting over by the window - I never heard the slightest sound from her. I thought she was asleep."

"Did you doze off?" Nurse Ransome was a little con-temptuous.

“No, I was wide awake all the time," said Christine deliberately.

She was tearless now, tearless, cunning, and terrified to the bottom of her soul. She shut herself up in her room when Nurse Ransome had gone and walked the floor.

No one must ever know. She would not confess. It could do Agatha no good now. And what harm might it not do to herself? She was wholly ignorant of what was or might be done in such cases and in her ignorance imagined the worst. They might not believe her - not now, at all events, after those instinctive lies of terror - they might think she had done it on purpose, that might the sooner fall heir to Agatha's money. Sent to prison - tried - she, Christine North, on whom the winds of heaven had not dared to blow too roughly. And even at the best - even if they believed her - even if nothing could or would be done to her - what shame, what humiliation, what outrage to her pride! To have it known that she had poisoned Agatha, her virtual mother, through sheer carelessness, to be always pointed out as one who had been capable of such a deed, no, no, she could never face such a thing - never. Anything, any fate, would be better than that. And she knew what her fate must be. She could never marry Ward Lennox now. Confessed or unconfessed, this thing must always stand between them. But just now in her guilt and dismay and dread, this seemed of little moment. The soul can entertain but one overmastering passion at a time.

She stood before her mirror and looked at her changed face, her white, haggard face with its horror-filled eyes.

It was as if in one hour she had passed from youth to middle age.

"I will not tell - it must never be known," she whis-pered, clenching her hands.

Her dread, and the unscrupulous determination caused by it, carried her through the funeral. People talked of her unnatural composure and her marble-white face. They pitied her, knowing what she had lost in Agatha. But in the back of their minds was the thought that she was a rich woman now, the mistress and owner of "Whiteflowers," and in due time would be wife of Ward Lennox. Back of this again was a thought, or rather a feeling, that giddy, shallow Christine was not worthy of such good fortune.

"She didn't shed a tear - too proud to cry before folks, North-like," said old Aunt Hetty Lawson. "She doesn't become her black. You'll see, she won't wear it longer than she has to. She'll make Agatha's money fly. Well, well, Harrowsdene will miss Agatha North. There aren't many women in the world like her."

Christine never forgot the agony of that hour. She had to sit still among the mourners. She had to look once more on Agatha's dead face - Agatha's lovely, placid face and know that she had killed her, had cut her off in her gracious, beloved, useful prime. Agatha, who had loved her so entirely and whom she had loved so deeply in return. She had to endure the consolations of people who would despise and condemn her ruthlessly if they knew the truth. At moments it seemed to Christine that they must know it - that her horrible inward sense of guilt and remorse must be branded on her face for all to see. Her own realization of what she had done was so intense and vivid that it seemed as if it must radiate from her to the minds of all around her. Yet she sat on like a white statue, as motionless, as seemingly calm as the dead woman herself.

It was over; Agatha's beautiful soul, full of fancy and charm and love, had gone to its own place; her ripe, beautiful body was buried in Harrowsdene cemetery and covered speedily with a loose drift of autumn leaves.

And Christine shut herself up at 'Whiteflowers" alone, refusing to see anyone, even Ward Lennox.

Her dread of being found out was almost gone. Agatha was buried. Since there had been no suspicion before, there would be none now. She was safe. But now that terror was over, another emotion rose up and possessed her soul, horror of herself, passionate, unappeasable remorse. By sheer carelessness she had killed Agatha; she had preened and exulted before her mirror while Agatha was lying dead behind her - Agatha who wanted so much to live. she must atone for it, she must atone for it by lifelong penance. Sitting alone in her room, listening to the heavy rain that she knew was streaming down on Agatha's unprotected grave, she made her enduring vow.

"I have robbed her of life. I will not have life myself," said Christine.

AT FIRST people thought the change in Christine was merely the result of grief and trouble. It would soon wear off, they said. But it did not; then they began to talk and wonder and whisper again. They talked and wondered and whispered until they were tired of talking and wondering and whispering and lapsed into acceptance of a threadbare fact.

Christine cared nothing for their talking and wondering and whispering. She was bent only on atonement - bent on dulling the sting of remorse to a bearable degree by increasing penance. Within a month of Agatha's death she had organized her existence on the lines it was henceforth to follow, and nothing - entreaty, advice, blame - ever availed to move her one jot from her elected path, until people gave up blaming, entreating, advising; left her alone, and practically forgot her. Nobody could ever have believed that, much as Christine was known to have loved Agatha, her sorrow could have had such a lasting and revolutionary effect on her. But since it was undeniably so, they accepted it, concluding that Christine's mind had been affected by the shock of Agatha's death. After all, there had always been a strain of eccentricity in the Norths. Agatha herself had been eccentric in her very philosophy of living - so gay and tolerant and vivid at the years when other women had grown sober and hidebound and drab with the stress of existence.

Christine, with her own hands, put away all the things Agatha would never wear or use more, pretty things all of them, for Agatha had loved pretty things. She hung Agatha's picture in the room where Agatha had died, that she might not see it, and locked the door. But she took the brown bottle of sleeping tablets and set it on her own dressing table before her mirror, on the dressing table from which had been banished all the little implements of beauty she had been wont to use assiduously. She had no longer any use for them, but every night and every morning as she brushed her thick black hair straightly and unbecomingly off her face to its prim coil behind, she looked at the deadly reminder of her deed.

Ward Lennox respected her grief and desire for solitude as long as he could bear it. Then he went to her, told her his love, and asked her to marry him. Christine coldly refused. He was thunderstruck; he had been sure Christine loved him. Had he not seen her eyes change at sight of him, the revealing colour rise in her lovely face?

Yet now she looked unblushingly at him and told him she could never marry him. He did not give up easily; he urged, entreated, reproached. Christine listened and said nothing.

"Don't you love me?" he asked.

"No," she said, with her eyes cast down.

Ward did not believe her. He went away at last, intending to return soon. But when he went back he rang the bell at 'White flowers" unavailingly; and no answer came to his letters. He tried at intervals for a year to see Christine; then he gave up, convinced that she did not care for him, never had cared. What he had mistaken for love had only been the coquettish allurement of a wild girl, who had been sobered by trouble into a realization that she should not so play with the great passion of lie.

Christine loved him as she had always done. For one mad moment she was tempted to confess all and throw herself on his mercy. Surely if he loved her as he said he did he would overlook and forgive. But then, to fee always humiliated before him in his knowledge of her indefensible carelessness; she could not bear the thought.

This one master dread held back the words. Without it she would not have been strong enough to put away love from her, even for atonement. All other joys she could sacrifice to her craving for remorse. But not this. If it had not been for the pride that could not brook the thought of shame she would have fallen at his feet and gasped out the truth. But that pride sealed her lips forever.

She put all her old friends out of her life. Most of them had been of the Keefe set. When Mrs. Keefe came to

"Whiteflowers" old Jean Stewart told her ungraciously that Christine would not see her. Mrs. Keefe went away insulted and never made any further attempt to renew her intimacy with Christine. When, two years later, the scandal of the Keefe divorce case, with all its unsavoury details in the matter of a certain Muskoka house party, burst upon Harrowsdene, people said significantly that it was well Christine North was not mixed up in that. But by this time Harrowsdene had accepted and almost forgotten the new Christine.

Old Jean Stewart died three years after Agatha's death, and thenceforth Christine lived alone, keeping the big house herself in the immaculate fashion that Agatha had loved. She had always hated housework. She did it all now, down to the very scrubbing and stove-blacking, taking a fierce satisfaction in these hated tasks, glad when her beautiful white hands, on which never a jewel shone, grew rough and hardened. She had to have help outside, to keep the grounds as Agatha had liked them. For this purpose she employed half-witted old Dormy Woods who pottered about all the lawns of Harrowsdene and liked to insinuate that he knew dark secrets about everybody. Sometimes the queer remarks he occasionally let fall gave Christine a start of dread; when he looked at her with his horrible filmy eyes and said leeringly, "I could tell strange tales o' some folks. she grew cold to her very heart. Was it possible he knaw and guessed her secret? No, it was not possible. But she was always uneasy in his presence, and it was for thar very reason she employed him. It was part of her pen. ance. Perhaps, too, old Dormy told her bits of unsolicited news now and then.

She gave largely and secretly to the charities that Agatha had always supported, but she never spent an unnecessary cent. When people called her miserly she said bitterly to herself, "That is better than being called a murderess." She never wore anything but severe black.

She never went anywhere save to the stores, where she did her economical buying, and to church. Every Sunday she sat alone in the old North pew, reading her Bible until the service began, never lifting her eyes. She did this because she detested reading the Bible. For the same reason she read a chapter in it every night and every morning. One month, eight years after Agatha's death, she suffered from a slight but uncomfortable affection of the eyes that was epidemic in Harrowsdene, and could not read at all. Then she discovered that she missed her Bible, that she had come to enjoy it. From that time she never opened her Bible again. Yet she had read through it so often that it had become part of her, its philosophy. its poetry, its drama, its ageless, incredible wisdom, of earth and of spirit, its unexampled range of colourful human nature were hers inalienably, permeating her soul and intellect.

Her reading was all heavy and serious now. She never looked at one of the sentimental romances she had once bivelled in. Now she read only the old histories and biographies and poems in the old North bookcases. This hoed part of the time left over from her meticulous housekeping; the rest she passed in knitting and sewing, making garments which she secretly sent to the poor of the nearest city.

She never touched her piano after Agatha's death; no one ever heard her sing again. She never spoke to anyone beyond a grave Good Day, and when people talked to her or strove to hold her in conversation she answered with brief gravity and went her way - she who had once been such a chatterbox. She had put all companionship out of her life. She would not even have a cat or dog at "White-flowers." She kept the flowers that Agatha had loved in her garden, but she never touched one. Moonlight was still a fair thing, but she would not look at it. She would not accept any enjoyment, and she never for one waking moment forgot that she had killed Agatha. The passing of years never dulled or dimmed the realization. Sometimes she dreamed that people knew of it and looked on her with horror and contempt. She would wake up with perspiration on her forehead and breathe a word of passionate relief that it was only a dream.

She did not wholly succeed in banishing all passion from her life. When old Dormy told her that he'd heard Dr. Lennox was going to marry Florence King, the high school teacher, she felt a sudden savage thrill of jealousy.

"Surely he will never marry that stiff, pedantic crea- . ture," she thought. Yet she knew Miss King was handsome and clever, and Dormy reported Harrowsdene as approving the match. That night Christine looked from her window through the gap in the pines to the light that burned in a house across the river. She knew the light was in Ward Lennox's office, and she kept an ugly vigil with pain and longing. But by dawn she had conquered it. Ward Lennox might marry Florence King. It was naught to her. She had put all that behind her.

But Dr. Lennox did not marry Florence King; he did not marry anyone, though gossip linked his name with this or that for many years before it accepted the fact that Dr. Lennox meant to remain a bachelor. He was a busy, friendly man, with a large practice; everybody liked him and trusted him. People got well of serious illnesses iust because they believed in him. His personality cured more patients than his medicine. He was no hermit. He went freely into society and enjoyed life. He and Chris. tine never met. At long intervals they passed each other on the street. He would bow courteously and Christine coldly; that was all. People had forgotten that it had ever been supposed they would marry.

AFTER THIS FASHION fourteen years passed. Christine was thirty-four years old - if anybody had thought about her age. Nobody did. Her own generation were all married and gone. To the younger she was what she had always seemed - a grave, stately, middle-aged eccentric woman, considered miserly, living her strange secluded life at old-fashioned "Whiteflowers." She was always pale, darkly and plainly dressed; yet there was a haunting, tragic charm about her that made the younger beauties seem cheap and common beside her. Christine never thought about her appearance save when, looking into her unshaded mirror over the brown bottle on the table, she saw the lines on her face and the slight hollows in the cheeks that had once been so round and delicately hued, and had a momentary impression that she was old and faded - much more so than her contemporaries. But that was part of her atonement. She had given up her beauly when she gave up love and life's fulfillment. Her atonement was becoming easier - too easy, she thought. She had ceased to have wild longings of the things she had put away from her. She had ceased to dream of Ward - ceased to desire feverishly to find open her silent piano and plunge her fingers into music. She was beginning to like her housework, her reading, even her sewing and knitting. When she realized this, she felt all the old sting of her guilt and remorse. She must not be happy. What could she do to make herself miserable?

The thought came to her that she would adopt a child.

Nothing could be more distasteful to her. She had always disliked children. Most of all she disliked ugly children.

She went to the orphan asylum in the city and brought home its ugliest inmate - a boy of eight, with a pitiful little face scarred by some inhuman attack of a drunken father. His name was Jacky Brent and he was a timid, silent little fellow - the very type which made Christine feel most uncomfortable. But she revelled in her discomfort and in all the annoyances which the care and upbringing of this child brought into her methodical existence. She left nothing undone that could contribute to his comfort and welfare. She studied dietetic tables and child welfare magazines, and vexed her soul with balanced meals and tables of weights. She helped him with his lessons; she invited his schoolmates to "White-flowers" to make it lively for him and watched over their games and their manners, and got up appropriate lunches for them. She got a dog for him and forced herself to tolerate muddy paw tracks; she played halma and dominoes with him - even ball in the backyard because she abhorred it. She helped him with his les-sons, even, she remembered, as Agatha had once helped her. She helped him build a playhouse and picnicked with him in it. She forced herself to talk to him. She had lived so long with silence that she found it difficult to talk, and more difficult still to talk to a child. But she persevered, and eventually, as they gradually built up a little store of common interests, she found it easier and easier. Jacky learned to talk too, as his timidity wore off somewhat, and sometimes his quaint, unexpected remarks prompted in Christine a desire for laughter which she had long been a stranger. She never let herse laugh. She did not even smile, but momentarily the eyes of her girlhood returned to her.

In spite of his delicacy of appearance Jacky was a healthy child, but one night, when he had been ar (White flowers" nearly a year, he was suddenly taken violently ill. Christine telephoned wildly for old De.

Abbott. Dr. Abbott was away; there was nothing to do but send for Ward Lennox. Ward Lennox crossed the threshold of "Whiteflowers" for the first time in fifteen years.

He was cool, impersonal, professional; Christine was so upset about Jacky that she could think of nothing else.

They met and talked like casual acquaintances.

Ward Lennox told her that Jacky had appendicitis and that an operation was imperative. No time must be lost.

At dawn a trained nurse was in charge of the case, and the specialist from the city had come. Christine locked herself in her room and paced the floor until the operation was over. Then they told her that the abscess had broken before the operation and that Jacky's condition was very critical. Christine went back to her room.

She did not pray. She had never prayed since Agatha's death - she had never dared to. Always in the back of her mind was the feeling that she must not pray without confession - and she could not confess. She did not pray now; she looked at her drawn, anguished face in her Blass and for the first time she was unconscious of the little brown bottle under it.

Jacky might die, and she loved Jacky!

"I cannot live without him," she said, wringing her hands. "I cannot."

She remembered with a stab of horrible compunction that she had rebuked him sharply the day before for something he had said. She recalled his grieved look, the look that always came into his poor little face when he displeased her. He had always tried so hard to please her. That very night before he went to bed, when he had seemed so tired and dull, he had faithfully hung his clothes up and set his shoes straight, and put all his little treasures tidily away in his box, as her rigid rules re-quired. Christine went and looked at them, his little tops and nails and balls and engines, his new jack-knife and the old broken one he still loved because it had been his only prized possession in the asylum, his tin pail and spade, and the dancing monkey which had delighted him so. If Jacky died . ..

Jacky did not die. He recovered. And when he was well again Christine sat down in her room on the first day he went back to school and took stock of her emotions.

She had taken Jacky for a penance. He had ceased to be a penance; he had become her delight. She loved him with all the intensity of her passionate nature. She could not give him up - she could not. Such a sacrifice she could not make. She had once given her lover up in the surge of a new horror and remorse. But that surge had spent itself. She could not give Jacky up now; neither could she keep him with her guilty secret. One must be surrendered. She must make her choice.

When Jacky came from school, running through the hall calling gaily for "Aunty," who had petted and spoiled him all through his convalescence, her choice was made. She got Jacky his supper, helped him with his lessons and put him to bed, reconciling him to its unusual earliness by the promise of a treat on the morrow. Then she went out, bareheaded, into the autumn dusk - not realizing that she was bareheaded.

She had thought it all over. The tale must be told. She did not know what the result might be. Probably at this lapse of time nothing would be done to her. People would believe that it was merely carelessness and content themselves with gossip and wonder and condemnation. Christine's pride still cringed at thought of it, it would be horrible, horrible to open up the old wound, horrible to have her long-hidden secret proclaimed to her world. But it must be.

To whom could she tell it? Nurse Ransome had died five years ago. Ward Lennox? Yes, it should be to him. Her punishment must be as severe as it could possibly be.

She would go and confess to him.

She walked steadily along the street. The world about her seemed weird and purple and shadowy, with great cold clouds piling up above a sharp yellow eastern sky.

Christine felt that it was in keeping with her terrible errand; when she passed a house through whose open windows came the sound of music and laughter and dancing, she shuddered. Tomorrow these people would be talking of her - of her, Christine North, who had poisoned Agatha. And yet they were dancing tonight as if there were no such things in the world as horrible carelessness and never-dying remorse and public shame.

She struck her hands together in her misery but she went on.

Ward Lennox was sitting on his verandah when Christine came up the walk in the pale moonshine that was beginning to silver the October dusk. His amazement could not have been much greater if Agatha North herself had come up the walk - it almost made him speechless But he contrived to murmur a few conventional words and asked Christine to come in.

"I would rather stay out here," said Christine, who fell that what she had come to say could not be said in a lighted room.

She sat down in the chair he drew forward for her. The light streaming out through the window of the room behind her made a primrose nimbus around her shapely head. In the dim light she looked very beautiful, a majestic creature with that subtly knowing, deep-eyed white face of hers in its frame of flat dark hair. The lovely line of cheek and throat rose above her black collar. Ward Lennox suddenly remembered the time he had dared to kiss that white throat - the only time he had ever kissed her. It seemed to him that he could almost hear her little, deprecating laugh as she escaped him. Surely it had been the laugh of a woman who loved the man who kissed her. No coquette could have laughed just like that.

Christine looked straight at him, sensing the vast reserve of strength that underlay his external courtesy and gaiety and charm. How strong he was! And she - she had been so weak and cowardly!

"I have come to tell you something," she said.

"Yes," he said gently.

Christine waited a moment. She must find very plain, direct words. Her hands, she found, were clammy and her mouth was dry.

"I killed Agatha fifteen years ago. I didn't mean to - but I killed her."

"Christine!'

It gave her a strange shock to hear her name again. It was so long since she had heard it. For years she had been Miss North to everyone. Even to Jacky she was only "Aunty." Under the shock she was also conscious of an enormous relief, as if some horrible darkness or weight had been suddenly lifted from her soul.

She hurried on, rather incoherently now.

"I gave her four of the sleeping tablets by mistake, through carelessness. My thoughts were wool-gathering. I hadn't put the tablets back in the right place when I gave her one at eleven - and I fell asleep - and was stupid when I went to give her the regular medicine - and then I-I- played with my hair at the glass for hours, and she was dead - I never knew it. And I could not confess, I knew I ought to - but I was afraid to. I thought they might put me in prison, or always point the finger of scorn at me. I couldn't face it, so I lied. But I am telling the truth now, and I've done penance - oh, I've done penance. But I can't give Jacky up - so I'm telling it all now. Oh, whatever they do to me, don't let them take Jacky from me."

Ward Lennox was moved profoundly. Everything was clear to him now and, oh, the pity of it! For it had all been so unnecessary.

"Christine," he said slowly. "You did not kill Agatha. The tablets you gave her were quite harmless."

Christine looked up, dazed, incredulous.

"The day before Agatha died Nurse Ransome told me that she did not think the sleeping tablets would be needed again and I took them away, wanting them for another patient, as my supply had run low. I left in their place a bottle of tablets to be used if Agatha had any return of certain annoying digestive symptoms. They were harmless - the whole bottleful wouldn't have hurt her. I remember it all distinctly. Nurse Ransome should have told you. I suppose she forgot. Agatha died of heart failure - there is absolutely no doubt of that. Oh, Christine, my poor darling, and this was why - if you had trusted me…”

"If" indeed! Christine was struggling with a whirlpool of emotion in which a still half-incredulous joy was uppermost. She had not killed Agatha - there was no blood on her hands - that was the only fact she could grasp clearly now. Later on would come bitter regret, for her folly and cowardice, for the lost, wasted years, for everything she had thrown away in insensate sacrifice to her pride and her vain hunger for atonement. Later yet again would come a wistful realization that, after all, the years had not been wasted. Vanity, selfishness, frivolity had been stripped from her soul as a garment. Strength, fineness, reserve, dignity, all she had lacked had been given unto her in those years of penance; even physically they had not been barren. In her regular, simple life the delicacy of her girlhood had vanished. She had become a perfectly healthy woman. All this had been bought with a great price, but she could never have purchased it in a cheaper market.

She stood up ... and swayed unsteadily.

"I must go home - think this out. I can't - no, no, you must not come with me - I must be alone."

"Christine!" His voice was a sharp protest. "You are not going to shut me out of your life again - I love you. I've always loved you - we must…”

"Not yet - not yet," she besought him feverishly, pushing him away from her.

He stepped back and let her pass. He had waited long- he could wait a little longer.

Christine went blindly home to "Whiteflowers." She went to Agatha's room and knelt by Agatha's bed. For the first time in fifteen years she prayed - a prayer of thankfulness and humility. For the rest of the night she sat at Agatha's window looking out into the moonlit beauty of "Whiteflowers," or walked about the dim haunted room in a mingled intoxication of joy and regret. Under all the turmoil of her mind she felt curiously young again - as if life had suddenly folded back many of its pages.

Through the gap in the pines she saw Ward's light in the house across the river. For the first time since Agatha's death she let herself think about him. A door of life she had thought shut forever seemed slowly opening before her.

[remcycl333]

Hi Rem, I’m this anon. I just came back to tumblr with new successes.

I mentioned that I was argumentative and snappy, so people rightfully disliked me and I had a couple fights with people. I dwelled on self hatred and guilt because of it. Then I watched Self Generousity and Redemption of The Self by Edward and turned my image around. Multiple ppl suddenly apologized for something I thought I was in the wrong. Now everybody is super nice and likes me more than they ever before. I used to feel excluded but now everyone wants to include me

Turning my friends into Swifties lol

2 of my fav bands releasing music and touring. They r old bands from the 70s/80s that arent really active anymore, one of them haven’t released anything for ages so this is something

I thought of this person in my old fave band and how I miss listening to them, then the next day my friend sent me his new project that just came out

Visiting grandparents' hometown after almost 3 years since the last time we visit bc my grandparents had passed away so my parents didn’t think of going there anymore. Then my mom got a call from my aunt who lives in the same city that her in-law had passed away and she wants us to go visit.

Rare books that I couldn’t find for years.

Car, clothes, shoes, bags, and my mother constantly buying me things without being asked.

Know how to drive manuals 😭

Higher allowance

Trip to 2 countries this summer!!!

Desired body! I mentioned that I had some addictions in my prev post, that made me really unhealthily thin, but now I have all my meat on the right place lol

I’m gonna talk more about that as LOA had been a huge help for me to get through it, please skip the indented texts if ur uncomfortable with the subject

TW: substance abuse

I’m kinda ashamed to talk about this, but fuck it’s anon. I also have several other addictions too that I’m still shameful about, but currently working through it

I decided to manifest getting clean and I really really didn't want to go through crazy withdrawal so I manifested not having it (kinda, I did get sick but it wasn’t bad) with LOA. A friend told me he never had it from hard drugs, it made me confident on this.

What did I do?

1. Got in the state of being clean and never had an addiction

2. SATS every time I had anxiety about it and revise the times I did those things into something productive.

It’s been almost two months and I myself couldn’t believe how not hard it was.

I had people calling me druggie and mentioned these things to my friends and even strangers in public, but since I changed ppl’s perceptions it never happened again.

Manifesting is really easy. I know it’s already mine because my inner man already experienced it. All I do is make sure my inner man is satisfied.

That’s it for now, I’ll share more stories soon ♥️

omggg you're killing it as always!!! thank u so much for sharing <3 you deserve all this and more!!!

[heliocentricsunflower]

Hange backstory hcs because no one asked

i am hange content deprived, thus i shall make my own

-Wall Rose citizen

-Got their mom's looks, father's eyes

-Mother left them and their father for a better life in Wall Sina(she found a rich lover)

-Father became depressed, became a drunkard and decided to leave hange in the care of the Zachariuses(Motherside relatives) bc they looked too much like their mom

-They took Hange(12) in, they and Miche(21) are first cousins

-Hange was sure they wanted to become a scout when Miche told them stories of expeditions outside the walls

-Everytime Miche returned home, the two of them would talk about expeditions, and Hange usually helped him let out emotions, esp after the more severe experiences (basically, hange's born kind, and sort of a therapist)

-Hange was in the same batch as Marlene, and forced their way into a friendship with a person with a quiet personality

-Quiet person was really into flowers, and wanted to defeat titans so they could find more flowers outside the walls

-Quiet person and Hange became close bc of their similar motivations

-Graduated top 5 in their batch

-Unfortunately, qp dies to save Hange from being eaten after the two became scouts

-Hange disliked titans, now they despise them

-Hange went through a "levi" phase (basically really scary and intimidating and constantly irritated)

-Ofc up until they kicked a titan, sparking curiosity again, they refuse to let qp's death be a meaningless one and decide to focus on titan research

-Hange and Miche were never placed in the same squad, but the ones they were in worked together often, this is how Hange and Erwin started becoming close

-Hange talked to Levi after furlan and isabel's deaths(therapist hange comeback), this was how they discovered his literally shitty humor

-They also made him tea, which was well brewed (their aunt loves black tea)

-It is also important to note that Miche told Hange he thought they had a crush on Levi after their first meeting (he was mostly joking, but he's right)

gotta include the hange and miche are related (bc of their placeholder names LOL) and levihan shipper miche agenda somehow

[evita-shelby]

Plus One

Inspired by @justrainandcoffee Wandering Jew series.

Aka an excuse to write rolfie and teva in the same universe

Gif by @crackshipandcrap

(2019)

“Who won’t text you back?” Eva asked noticing the rather forlorn way he looks at the message.

She knows he’d been seeing someone, and yet while he knows about her disastrous sex life, Eva doesn’t know jack shit about his beyond Grace the Barmaid, Lizzie and several other women Eva may or may not have also fucked.

“None of your business, Smith.” Tommy glared and she pouted.

It had been a bad idea to ask her out again, the drinks had been fine and she thought him a gentleman when he didn’t take her up on her suggestion of staying over at her place.

“I told you about my ex marrying my cousin and my ex who fucked all my friends, c’mon, Tommy tell me who’s the broad who’s place I need to trash.” The brunette reminds him.

They were friends now.

Eva was enjoying being single after her ex decided Franco was who she loved and Tommy had been in a relationship with someone whom he had hardly ever mentioned.

“Not a she, and no, you’re not committing a felony for me, Evie, but thanks anyway.” He said with annoyance and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Ah so we’re more similar than I thought. So your guy broke up with you, then?” the witchy young woman guessed correctly going by the stony look he gets as he orders another drink.

“Yes, and before you ask. It was me not him.” The dark haired man loathed speaking about things like these and yet he willingly shared this with her, progress. “Won’t forgive me and I know you’d agree with him.”

“You got me there. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been there before. At least your ex is still alive to hate you.” Eva regrets her words the moment she said them.

She never told anyone about Leopoldo, nor how him learning about her and Antonia seeing each other behind his back led to the car accident that killed him.

She’d been displayed as his grieving girlfriend. Given flowers, comforted along with his family and crushed by the guilt of knowing she hadn’t truly loved him.

“Lucky me.” He grumbled bitterly and raised his whiskey in a toast. “Here’s to our shit luck, Evie.”

It is spring 2020 when Tommy and Eva elope to Cancun and welcome the pandemic as the newly elected representative of the Birmingham Hall Green.

Their exes remain unnamed and neither Shelby aware of how little the world is.

Its 2023 when two identical invitations arrived addressed to the both of them.

“I didn’t know you knew Alfie as well.” Eva mentions as he played with little Gabriel on the rug.

The look on his face says it all.

Alfie was the guy who dumped him for being a cheating asshole.

Same Alfie who was Aunt Florence’s baby brother.

There had been no malicious intent.

This is what Rose tells herself when Alfie learns she hadn’t removed Tommy Shelby from the guest list.

She had met him in passing once, when she found more than just a nice holiday at the Wandering Jew.

Then she came to know Tommy had been the heartless bastard who’d broken Alfie’s heart. Having disliked him from the start, knowing how awful he was had made her hate him.

Now she was seeing him in the profile picture of Alfie’s ‘niece’ Eva Smith-Riley who had sent her congratulations through Instagram.

Rose had met through zoom calls and FaceTime and once in person when Eva came to give them her good news.

‘Is it okay if I bring my plus one?’

It was then Rose had seen who the man she was married to was.

Then the bride to be did what everyone has done since the invention of social media has done.

She looked at every single photo of him in Eva’s profile, Facebook page, twitter and some tabloids that sprung up under her name.

They’d met at Birmingham U, they dated for approximately five months, married on the first of March in a lovely beach in Mexico and had a baby named Gabriel.

“Are you jealous of Evie, sweetheart?” Alfie Asks seeing the picture of Eva hanging out with some celebrity at a charity thing.

“No. It’s not that. Why didn’t you tell me Tommy’s her husband?” she shows him the next picture, Tommy Shelby smiling through the pain holding his one-year-old son next to Eva.

After the way he fucked things up with Alfie, Tommy resolved himself to be a better man.

“Because I didn’t know about it until she married the fucker and then I didn’t want to ruin things for her. He’s changed, or so it seems.” the burly man admitted knowing the hell that was going to be unleashed.

“For a man in love he looks like he’s in agony.” Rose points out thinking the worst of Thomas Shelby.

“That’s just his face, love, he can’t help it.”

And he had, not once has he strayed and while that took much work on his account, it had rewarded him with a woman he loves and a family he hadn’t thought he could have.

He should’ve told her about his past with Alfie, but he was afraid, not sure of what, but he was afraid.

Eva wouldn’t have judged him about it, not after she told him about Leopoldo, but Alfie was her friend.

And yet here they lay beside each other as the baby slept curled up between them.

“You should’ve told me, Tom.” She’s not angry, there is a hint of disappointment about her, but nothing has changed as he feared he would. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

“He’s your friend, sort of relative too. I don’t want you to miss it on account of me.” He could invent an excuse to stay, claim Gabe is too little for a sitter.

“Alfie is your friend too, we’ll hire a sitter for Gabe and you will come with me. I already told Alfie I’d be bringing you anyways.” She points out reaching to caress his face, a contrast to his words.

December rolls around, and Tommy finds himself fixing the black satin bowtie that matches Eva’s black evening gown exactly.

“Are you ready?” she asks softly, knowing how big of a step this is for him.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be, Mrs. Shelby.”