#and that's not done lightly - it is really difficult for grant to engage with that part of his life again but he does it anyway because

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

fág slán leis an dúshlán a bhí againn an mhí seo mar go dtí seo, i'm on the upside of the sea-saw 🎵

say goodbye to the challenges we have had this month, because so far i’m on the upside of the sea-saw

[deepdarkdelights]

10 Days (Jungkook x Reader)(10 Seconds Pt 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Non-Consensual touching (This becomes intense, if this is triggering for you please do not read), Kidnapping, Hard Manipulation, Mentions of past abuse/torture, Brainwashing, Blood

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

Read Part One Here Read Part Three Here 

You had never felt more hopeless in your entire life. It felt like your energy had been completely drained from your body. His parents still stood by the door, talking amicably with their son. His mother practically had stars in her eyes as she was nestled close into her husband’s hold. Nothing scared you more than the thought of being in her place one day. Chills of disgust rolled down your spine as you imagined yourself and Jungkook together like that. His arm curled around your shoulder as you came home to your son, hanging for dear life onto a terrified girl, her eyes wide and brimming with tears begging for help. Is that what your life would be like? Would you too fall victim to your captor like she had? Would the cycle continue and for how long had it been happening in Jungkook’s family?

Your heart thudded in your chest as your eyes zeroed in on the door behind his parents. Could you make a run for it? Could you get away from him if you tried now? Or would that be your death sentence? You were undoubtedly outnumbered, but his parents were on the older side and it would be much harder for them to run after you. It was just Jungkook you had to worry about, his mother seemed harmless and his father was too caught up in his wife. Maybe you could do it, when would you ever find a chance like this again? They hadn’t even locked the door! 

Your grip on Jungkook’s shirt began to loosen as your gaze was pinned to the door that was lightly swinging open with the breeze. You could do it.

“(Y/N).” Never mind, you couldn’t do it. 

“Baby, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re anxious right now but I need you to be a good girl, okay?” Jungkook asked, turning around to cradle your face. 

You nodded your head in compliance as his hand slipped away from your face to cradle your own. He tangled your fingers together and slowly led you over to his parents. His mother had a huge grin on her face and she seemed genuinely excited, vibrating with joy as you approached. Jungkook nudged you in front of him and rested his hands on your shoulders, his grip tense like he was warning you to behave. His father fixed you with a stern look, your body shuddering at the familiarity. He was so much like his son that it was scary. It really did seem like there wasn’t a way out of this and your heart shattered at the thought. You were going to be stuck with a family of people who were deluded, they actually believed that this was okay. 

“Hello dear, it’s so nice to meet you.” She said with her best attempt at a comforting smile. It was strange to think she had once been in your place when she seemed so satisfied with her life. Fuck, she had even given birth to her kidnappers son. Would that be expected of you? Were you supposed to help continue this sick cycle? At the rate that things were going, you weren’t sure how long you could hold Jungkook off. He was clingy and becoming more handsy the longer you two spent together. Carrying his child may become a reality faster than you had anticipated.

You felt Jungkook’s fingers tense as he dug into your shoulders a little harder, you still hadn’t answered his mother.

“It’s-It’s nice to meet you.” You choked out with a smile that looked more like a grimace. You were not convincing whatsoever and that was reflected in the harsh stare of her husband.

Your heart continued to pound violently in your chest, what were you supposed to do? It felt like the walls in the room were slowly closing in on you. Once again, you were reminded that there was no escape. You were like a songbird trapped in a gilded cage and you desperately wanted to stretch your wings and break free from your prison. You could feel the panic attack coming, this hadn’t been the first one since Jungkook had taken you and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your chest was tightening and it was becoming difficult to breathe as your heart hammered harder than before. There were a million thoughts racing in your head all at once as crisp tears began to roll down your cheeks. You clasped your hands together in an attempt to stop their trembling as your gaze zeroed in on the creaking hinges of the screen door. You were losing it. It became harder to keep a grip on reality as you felt the wave of anxiety come crashing down over you.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Mrs. Jeon asked, her voice brimming with worry as she approached you. She gently grabbed your hands and pulled you away from her son who whined in irritation. Her dainty hands carefully smoothed your hair back as she tried to meet your gaze.

Of course you weren’t fucking alright. Any sane person would be able to see that from a mile away. You had been locked up for only God knows how long with one person who could change moods so fast it would give you whiplash. Her caring question only made everything worse, you were expected to say that everything was okay, that you were happy with her son and delighted to meet his parents. You were supposed to be the dotting girlfriend when you were so obviously the distraught victim.

How could someone with such a gentle, caring, motherly touch horrify you so much?

With a choked sob you pushed her off of you and made a sprint for the door. Within seconds you were flying through the door frame, your bare feet slapping against the wood of the porch and flying through the stretch of grass that spread over the empty field surrounding the house. It was windy and the sky was clear, the pale moonlight shining down on you as you desperately ran. You could hear Jungkook behind you screaming your name. His voice was a blend between being distraught and riddled with anger.

If he caught you, would he kill you?

His footsteps were loud and fast, he was sprinting as hard as he could to catch up with you but you were far too desperate to let him catch you so easily and so quickly. Before you knew it, you were in the forest. The trees were tall and thick, covered in moss. You weren’t thinking at this point, in fact you were just blindly running hoping to God that just maybe you would be able to out maneuver him.

You had never really tried to escape Jungkook, well you had never been able to actually try. Hell, this was the first time you were even near the front door. You couldn’t let him catch you as you would never find another chance to run away from him again. Not to mention, moments before his parents had entered the lake house, he had warned you that he was not above punishing you. You didn’t want to even think about what his punishments would entail for you.

Your legs were burning under the strain of running. After being bed bound for most of your time with your captor, you had barely done anything that was remotely as active as this. You were sure your feet were bleeding, they felt numb and slippery. The adrenaline pumping through your veins masked your pain as you pushed yourself harder. It was dark and hard to see, numerous branches had already snagged your clothing and whacked you. You really were at a disadvantage, weren’t you?

At this point, you had no doubt Jungkook would catch you. He was stronger and faster than you, you were completely outmatched in terms of endurance. You pumped your legs faster and harder, running down a slope of rocks and leaves that almost sent you tumbling. With a wheeze, you whipped around another tree and crouched down behind it and the large rocks that surrounded it. If you couldn’t outrun him, maybe you could hide from him.

You heard him come to a halt moments later as he heard your steps cease. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your deep panting breaths. You could make out his head and shoulders from where you hid, he was spinning on his heels as he scanned the area around him. It was dark as the trees covered the light of the moon. Hopefully, this would make it harder for him to find you.

“(Y/N)?!” He called, his chest rising and falling rapidly with quick breaths. “Baby, I’m not playing around. You better come out right now if you know what’s good for you.”

He was fuming, it was so obvious. You could vaguely make out his tense jaw and the bulging veins in his neck. His head continued to swivel from side to side as he tried to find you in the dark.

“If you come out right now, your punishment won’t be that bad.” He spoke again, pacing back and forth as he continued to search for you. “You really disappointed me, I thought you were my good girl again. I’ve been so good to you but you keep testing me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as panicked tears sprung forth. For someone who claimed to be in love with you, he was so good at making you cry. Your nails dug into the bark of the tree as you pressed your forehead to its trunk. He was going to find you, you never stood a chance.

“First, you take my affection for granted. Then, you question my love for you and accuse me of mistreating you. And then you throw my mother away from you like trash. We were doing so well but you just had to stop behaving.” He said with a distressed sigh as his footsteps grew nearer. Your body stilled like a deer in headlights, this was so familiar. And all at once, you were taken back to that night.

His light footsteps, the darkness, and the fear.

“All I want is to love you and take care of you, but you don’t see it that way do you?” He questioned, his voice became louder and closer. “I told you before, baby. You and I were meant to be together, from the moment I saw you I knew you were mine.”

His words were beginning to sound fuzzy as your ears rang. You had worked yourself up so much it seemed like even your own body couldn’t take it anymore. You felt sick and lethargic, and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before he found you. Because no matter what, he would always find you.

A pair of hands latched onto your shoulders and yanked you out of your hiding spot. Game over. Jungkook turned you around violently and pinned you to the tree trunk. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t discern his iris from his pupil. He was good at making you cry, and you were good at pissing him off.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He yelled, shaking you by the shoulders. “I let go of you for ten seconds and you run away?!”

Your eyes snapped shut as he screamed as you, his grip tight and bruising.

“Open your eyes, right now.” He growled, his voice low and stern. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He continued.

Out of fear, you opened them and met his dark gaze with your own. His jaw was clenched tight as he looked at you, he was doing his very best to show you how displeased he was. It was still jarring how easy it was for him to slip between the roles of a love sick puppy and an enraged kidnapper.

“We are going home,” He said, his voice steady and deep. “You are going to apologize to my mother and father for your behavior and wait in your room for me. You are not eating tonight, not after the way you acted. Am I clear?”

You nodded so fast it looked like your head would snap right off of your neck.

“I said, am I clear?” He repeated, staring down at you.

“Yes.” You replied, your voice soft with fear but loud enough for him not to ask you to repeat yourself.

He released a soft sigh as a barely there smile graced his lips. He loved your compliance.

“You know I don’t like scaring you, baby.” He cooed, the anger slowly dissipating as he pulled you into his embrace. “But I have to when you act like this, and you know I’m going to have to punish you.”

And with that, the dam broke. Ugly sobs broke free from your chest as the tears came flooding back. You were such a mess, such a crybaby that couldn’t do anything right. You could only hope that your tears would save you from whatever pain he had in store for you.

“Jungkook, please!” You sobbed. “I was - I was scared!”

“I know baby, I know.” He hummed, smoothing your hair as he cradled you to his chest. He lowered his palms to your thighs and scooped you up, carrying you much like a parent would an infant.

“You had a stressful day, didn’t you? But still, I’m really mad at you babygirl and crying won’t solve anything.” He said, he sounded like a parent scolding their child. And much like a child, you clung to him as you wailed. In response he softly hushed you, rubbing your back as he began the walk back to the lake house.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked, burying your face in the juncture of his shoulder and neck as your tears stained his hoodie. And you were sorry, because now there was the high probability he would hurt you for your actions. Maybe if you had waited then you could have found a better way to escape him without getting hurt. But you were panicked, your body thinking for you instead of your brain.

“Such a good little girl,” He sighed, rubbing circles into your back. “Apologizing without me having to tell you. If you keep being my good girl, then we won’t have to fight anymore.”

You nodded your head rapidly, spurring light laughs from his throat. If behaving bought you time and saved your life, then you would do it. Just until you could find a way out of this, if there was a way out of this.

“Are you - are you gonna hurt me?” You sniffled, your eyes clenched shut as you hid yourself from his gaze.

“Baby, I promised you I would never hurt you again. That night…that was a one time thing. You know that, right? You know I would never hurt you?” He asked, his voice worried at the prospect that you thought he would hurt you again.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“Oh no, my poor baby.” He gasped, squeezing you tighter to him. “So that’s why you’ve been acting this way, huh? I was too rough with you, you must still be so confused. I haven’t been very attentive, have I? Don’t worry, sweet girl. We’ll sort this out tonight.”

For the rest of the journey back there was a heavy silence between the two of you. It was accompanied by Jungkook’s soft touches and light kisses in the dark. Your little stunt seemed to only make him more affectionate than he was before, had he deluded himself into thinking this was all his fault? That he hadn’t given you enough attention and that was why you ran from him? Of course, in his mind you would never leave because you didn’t want him. Only because you didn’t have enough of him. The more time you spent with Jungkook, the more you realized how unstable he was. You were never sure what he was thinking, and that was scary. Never knowing what someone was going to do, that uncertainty was fear inducing.

It wasn’t long before the two of you had returned to the porch of the house, the door was still open but the screen door was shut allowing you to see into the hallway that led to the kitchen. You could make out the back of Jungkook’s father and the sweet voice of his mother, singing while the clanking of pots and pans followed. If this were under different circumstances, you would find it sweet.

Jungkook still held you, his chest pressed tightly to your own. His large hands cradled the back of your thighs, you could feel his thumbs lightly swiping the expanse of flesh. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before planting a soft kiss to the smooth column of your throat. It took everything in you to hold back the shudder that wanted to shake your body.

“You remember what I asked you to do for me babygirl?” He murmured, pulling back to look you in your eyes. The anger that had previously clouded them was no longer there, his soft gaze had returned once more. You gave him a quick nod and he smiled, carrying you back into your prison. His steps echoed down the hallway causing the singing to cease and his father to turn in his chair. Once more, he fixed you with that stern look that scared you shitless. Although this time it was far more intense and utterly annoyed.

“Go ahead.” Jungkook whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Already, this was completely humiliating. Not only did you have to apologize for trying to escape your kidnapper, but you had to do it while he cradled you like a child.

With your eyes trained to the floor, you began. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Jeon smiled again, her hands clasped together as she cooed at the sight of her son holding his “girlfriend” as she liked to say. “It’s alright sweetie, trust me, I’ve been there.” she giggled.

Her words were meant to comfort you, instead they deeply disturbed you. The way she so casually referred to her kidnapping was disgusting. She talked about it like it was something normal that everyone went through, like it wasn’t a horrific crime. She was brainwashed, so many years of being with her captor had turned her into a compliant doll. She was everything you feared and everything you desperately hoped to avoid. But once she was like you. How many times had she tried to run before she realized it was impossible to get away from him. How many nights had she spent crying over the life she had lost, missing her parents, her friends, and her family? When did she realize that her life was over? There was no saving her, and soon there would be no saving you.

“(Y/N),” Mr. Jeon spoke, his voice threatening. “Don’t do it again.”

You could tell that his words had a double meaning: Don’t run away again and don’t touch my wife like that again. You gave him a swift nod as your grip on Jungkook tightened. At that moment, he was the most familiar thing to you. And you could tell he was enjoying it.

“Son, we need to have a talk.” He continued, fixing his stern gaze onto Jungkook who stiffened in response.

With that, Jungkook swiftly turned and began to carry you away from the kitchen. He moved quickly as he squeezed you to him tighter than before. He seemed nervous, like he knew what his father wanted to talk about. You had never seen Jungkook look nervous. Angry, distressed, remorseful, but never nervous. He threw the door to your bedroom open and gently set you down on your frilly comforter. His hands came up to cradle your face once more before he leaned down and softly pecked your lips, a soft sigh breaking free from his chest.

“I need you to stay right here, okay? I’ll be back soon, we have some things to discuss.” He reminded you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before standing and exiting your room, the door shutting behind him and the lock twisting shut.

Your heart hammered in your chest, what did his father want to talk to him about? What would Jungkook discuss with you? How bad was your “punishment” going to be? There were so many unknowns spinning around in your head. You really were a mess, weren’t you? You had always thought that you could take care of yourself, and your kidnapping had proven that to be false. You had devolved into this different person you didn’t know. Before, you never cried as much as you did now. Before, you didn’t cower in anyone’s presence. In such a small amount of time, you had already become a shadow of your former self. At the rate you were going, it wouldn’t be long until you were empty and broken.

You were jolted from your thoughts when the screaming started. It was Jungkook’s voice, deeper and louder than you had ever heard it before. You couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but whatever his father wanted to tell him had set him off. You shuffled back into the bad, wrapping the comforter around you to provide you some feeling of safety. An angry Jungkook is an unpredictable Jungkook. The low, sweet voice of his mother was trying to cool him down but that was far from working. You could hear him snap at her, Mr. Jeon’s voice rising over all of them in a clear and loud yell. Silence followed. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t good.

A loud crash shattered the silence that had heavily hung in the still air. Your body jumped in response and tensed in preparation for more noise to follow, but there was none. A beat of silence passed before you heard the tell tale steps of Jungkook’s boots stomping down the hallway. In seconds the door to your bedroom was flung open and slammed shut behind him so hard the frame shook.

Jungkook’s body was shaking in rage as he paced the open space at the foot of the bed. He was so caught up in his anger it seemed like he didn’t even notice you were there anymore. That was of course, until he did. His head snapped up and his stare met yours, without a word he cleared the footboard of the bed and pinned you to the mattress. On impact, your eyes snapped shut. His hands gripped your thighs and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried his face in your shoulder. He was softly mumbling to himself as he nuzzled the fabric of your sweatshirt, the lightest of tears staining your top. He was crying?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He choked out, his body shaking as he held you close to him. “Just because Dad did it that way doesn’t mean I have to.”

You were frozen beneath him, unsure of what to do. Jungkook was clinging to you like a toddler to their parent, babbling nonsense as he tried his hardest to stop crying. Each time you thought you knew him, he proved you wrong. Jungkook chose several personas in your presence, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. You were scared of him because you could never tell which version of him you were going to get.

“He said I might be wrong, that maybe you aren’t mine. But he’s wrong, I know it! We’re meant for each other, I love you and no one can take you away from me. Not even him. He told me I need to be harsher with you, I need to hurt you so you understand.”

So that was how he did it. Jungkook’s father trained his mother with pain. He hurt her and would only stop in exchange for her obedience. No wonder she seemed so compliant, so in love with him. He had trained her like a dog, she associated him with pain and love simultaneously.

Jungkook pulled back from you, resting his weight on his forearms to take in your face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were red from crying. He really did look pitiful, if anything he looked like you since you spent most of your captivity in anxiety and bouts of intense crying. He slowly raised his hand to your face and lightly stroked the flesh of your cheek. If you didn’t know any better, he would look like a man that was in love with you. But you did know better, he was just a boy in a man’s body who had been raised to think this was normal. And for a moment, you genuinely felt bad for him. For a moment, you thought you understood him.

“I won’t have to hurt you if you listen to me. I still have to punish you, but if you’re good then I don’t have to hurt you.” He whispered, sniffing sharply as he leaned back to wipe the tears from his face.

Your legs were still tensed around his waist as he dragged you up to his chest, pressing the two of you so close together that you could feel his heart beating. He scooted backwards off the bed and carried you back to the bathroom. This was beginning to feel like your first day with him all over again. He set you gently onto the counter and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before kneeling down on the cold tile. His fingers delicately lifted your right foot to allow him to inspect the damage you had inflicted. His face contorted with wince as he looked at your foot, silently lifting the other one to inspect it as well.

“I hate seeing you like this, in pain.” He sighed, his fingers gently stroking the delicate bones of your ankle as he looked up at you from in between your legs. Your face flushed at the sight causing you to tilt your head back against the mirror behind you. Anything was better than the position you were in right now. Jungkook cooed at the light blush that dusted your cheeks as he began to work on the wounds that littered the once smooth skin of your feet, always stopping when you would flinch or cry out from the pain. Sometimes, he could be considerate. But you didn’t want to think positively of him and you most definitely didn’t want to feel sorry for him. You didn’t want to feel anything for him. You found yourself having to remember that he was a monster, even if it wasn’t his fault he was still a monster.

A soft kiss pressed to the inside of your ankle forced you to look at him once more, a sweet smile graced his lips. The one that made him look like an innocent bunny.

“All done.” He smiled, rising up in between your legs to trap you to the counter. Jungkook always found a way to remind you of your inability to escape him, the amount of times he had pinned you today was outstanding and concerning. You really were fucked.

The sweet smile slowly slipped from his lips as his eyes flicked down to your lips. His eyes were dark again, half lidded in a daze as he looked at you. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he wanted. He swallowed harshly and leaned closer to you, cupping one side of your face as he softly stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. You could feel his hands trembling as he took in a shaky breath. He acted like you were a drug that he could never get enough of, each hit he got sending him into a deeper addiction that he craved. And God, did he want you. He wanted all of you, everything you had to offer, and more. He took another breath and leaned in, attempting to kiss you. You quickly turned your head away from him, his soft lips connecting with the smooth skin of your cheek. Instead of getting mad, he pressed another kiss to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and gently peppered butterfly kisses to the curve of your jaw. In a panic, you jerked away from his touch only to press yourself tightly to the mirror behind you.

“I think,” He began, stopping to clear his throat. “I think I know what your punishment is going to be.”

Your heart jerked in response as his hands gripped the tops of your thighs. You had hoped maybe it wouldn’t come to this, that he had been bluffing this whole time. But if his father was so keen on punishment in his household, it only made sense he would want his son to follow in his footsteps. He had done it first, and he knew what “worked.”

“You can’t say no to me, baby. For ten days, you have to do what I want. Just for ten days.” He said, his tone gentle but you knew this wasn’t a request; it was a demand. You quickly shook your head from side to side, grasping his wrists and attempting to pull them off of you so that you could curl into yourself.

“Baby, baby! Listen to me!” He cried, catching your hands with his own while trying to meet your eyes. “You either do this for me, or I’ll have to hurt you. You know I don’t want to do that, but if I have to do it then I will. If my dad sees that you're non compliant, that you’re not being my good girl, he will try and get rid of you.”

You stilled at his words. So that’s why he had been crying so hard earlier. His father had given him an ultimatum. Jungkook had to hurt you if you misbehaved to “train” you, as his father had put it. If he didn’t see your compliance, then he would get rid of you. He would kill you for trying to free yourself.

“Jungkook…I can’t. I can’t do that. I just want to go home.” You replied, your voice weakening into a whimper as the tears rushed forth once more.

“I know this is hard for you baby, I know you need more time but I can’t keep waiting. Not with them here. Soon enough you’ll realize you are home, all you’ll need is me.” He whispered to you. And just like that all of your sympathy for him flew right out the window. At the end of the day, Jeon Jungkook was selfish. He took his father’s warning as a way to get what he wanted: you no longer being able to deny him. Jungkook is a monster, the perfect example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Those big, brown, doe eyes of his were concealing a dark force that was restless inside of him. That sweet smile of his hid the fangs and wrath harbored in him. He was something from your nightmares, hidden by a boyish face and a deceiving innocence. You never hated anyone as much as you hated Jeon Jungkook.

“Tonight counts as day one, you only have nine more days to go sweetheart.” He smiled, rubbing the tops of your thighs is what would have been a comforting manner if you didn’t detest his touch so much.

“Come on, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.” He informed you, scooping your body up once more as to not have you walk on your injured feet. Not only did you have no choice but to listen to him, but now you had lost your mobility for the time being. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, stopping yourself from snapping at him. Time had proven before that you could break, and if you broke this time it could have deadly consequences.

Would it be better to let yourself die? Would you rather live a life of captivity over the freedom that the dark embrace of death had to offer? No. You were many things, but unafraid of death was not one of them. If you were, then you would have forced Jungkook’s hand or his father’s a long time ago.

Jungkook set you down on the covers of his bed, rifling through his drawers to find something for you to wear to bed. He came back to you with a large white T-shirt in hand, something you had seen him wear many times. There was no doubt in your body that he was thrilled with this situation. Not only did he have you in his bed, but he would have you in his clothes. Jungkook sat down beside you once more, silently helping you out of your clothes. You still flinched from his touch, but tried your best not to say anything. The less you struggled, the faster you would be clothed and less vulnerable. To Jungkook’s credit, he tried his best not to openly ogle your semi naked form. His gaze still lingered, his eyes still looked you over, but he clothed you and that was that.

Once he had finished, he leaned back into the bed and kicked his boots off. He turned to look at you for another moment, taking in your body covered by his sheets. He swallowed harshly before turning away from you and opening the drawer of his nightstand. Once he faced you again you noticed the glinting metal in his hand. Handcuffs. Part of you shuddered at the thought that he kept those by his bed, the other part of you tried your best not to freak the fuck out.

“I can’t trust that you won’t try and leave while I’m sleeping.” He explained. “I don’t want to have to do this, but I need to.”

“I won’t leave.” Lie. “It’s going to be hard for me to sleep handcuffed to the bed, I learned my lesson. I won’t run.” You had tried your best to seem like you weren’t denying him, the word “no” had never passed your lips.

“It’s okay, I won’t cuff you to the headboard.” He answered, slapping the cuff to your right wrist and the other cuff to his as well. What the fuck. He leaned away from you to turn the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, you couldn’t see. But you could feel him. Jungkook peeled the sheets back and slid underneath them behind you, slinging his cuffed arm over your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Motherfucker.

“Jungkook-”

“Go to sleep, baby.” He cut you off, tensing his arm in warning as he rested his chin on the top of your head. You barely slept that night.

You woke up by being blasted from the light filtering through the window. He had left the curtains open last night. And not to mention, you were extremely uncomfortable. You were hot as hell having Jungkook wrapped around you like a giant koala, your wrist was chaffed from the metal cuffs, you had a headache from the bright light, and something was pressing hard into your lower back. You huffed in annoyance, trying to shift away from the man behind you only to still when a groan shook his chest.

Oh. Something hard was pressed to your lower back.

You shivered in disgust, rolling awkwardly to unwind his arm from around you so that you could get away from his…situation.

A sharp knock on the door made you jump while simultaneously waking up your captor. “Jungkook? (Y/N)? I made breakfast! Come out before it’s cold!”

Jungkook groaned again, slinging his arm over his eyes at the sound of his mother’s voice. He took a deep breath before sitting up and retrieving the key to the cuffs, swiftly unlocking it and separating the two of you. You hastily stood up, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. Jungkook still remained in his bed, eyeing you as he titled his head back. You felt shivers run down your spine from the look he was giving you. You had no doubt you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Jungkook!” Mrs. Jeon yelled again from the other side of the door, her swift knocks returning once more. Her impatience knew no bounds as she finally gave up and swung the door open. It was quite a sight to see, such a small woman looking so angry. Jungkook actually looked scared for a moment.

“Jungkook, I said breakfast is ready and getting cold! Don’t ignore your mother!” She scolded him, waving a spatula around as she yelled at him. This sight was just too normal, it was so strange to think that you were kidnapped. Never in a million years did you ever think you would see your captor’s mother yelling at him like he was still a child.

Jungkook sighed, trying his best not to lash out at his mother lest his father hear their exchange. “You waited all of ten seconds, mom.”

“That doesn’t matter! I shouldn’t have to wait!” She replied before taking a hold of your elbow and tugging you towards the hallway. “Now, are you coming or will you make your mother wait longer?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He answered awkwardly.

“Fine, suit yourself.” She huffed before dragging you out of the bedroom and walking you in the direction of the kitchen. But not before you saw Jungkook mouth, “behave” with that stern look returning to his face. Right, it was day two.

“It’s time for some girl talk!” She beamed, ushering you into a seat where a plate of food awaited. “So, tell me. How did you and my son meet?”

She couldn’t be serious. This had to be some twisted joke, right? The look on her face spoke volumes, she was genuinely curious with a smile so similar to her sons spreading over her face. You wanted so badly to scream in her face that he fucking kidnapped you, that you barely knew him when the two of you were in the same classes. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. No matter how badly you wanted to scream and cry, you couldn’t. The threat of Jungkook’s father was still near, if you didn’t behave he had no qualms about “getting rid” of you.

“Uh, we met in high school.” You answered, poking at your food and refusing to make eye contact with her.

“High school sweethearts! How cute, that’s just like me and my husband!” She gushed. She was just as deluded as the rest of them.

Your silence caused her lips to turn downward, the smile slipping off of her face. A look of understanding crossed over her eyes as she gently reached across the table to cradle your hand in her own.

“I understand how hard it is at first.” She said, your head snapped up to look at her. This was the first time she didn’t seem bubbly and in love. “I ran too, you know. It’s overwhelming, becoming a part of their world and learning that way they love. My husband was strict with me, but he had to be for the sake of our relationship.”

And just like that, your hope died again. She thought she was in love with him, that he did all he did because they were meant to be together. She was like you once, and she had lost the fight. Your eyes dropped to her hands that held your own. To your horror, you noticed the deep scars littering her wrists and palms. On the inside of her wrist was the most prominent scar, a large J carved into her skin. If her hands were that scarred, what was she hiding underneath her shirt and pants? Was her whole body subjected to the torture that her husband called love? He had conditioned her with pain, he had made her into what he wanted her to be.

“Baby?” Jungkook called, walking into the kitchen with a worried look on his face as he took in your stiff posture and disturbed expression. He came to your side immediately and settled his arm on the back of your chair, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you feeling sick, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing his lips to your forehead making his mother smile at the display of affection.

You shook your head and stopped yourself from flinching away. After all, you couldn’t say no to him.

The days began to pass quicker after the incident with Jungkook’s mother. You had learned his parents would be staying in the guest house to give the two of you space while also keeping an eye on you. You could feel yourself spiraling in the aftermath of everything that had happened. The only thing that was keeping you from lashing out again was the hard glare Jungkook’s father constantly had trained on you. Not to mention, your compliance was the only thing preventing Jungkook from hurting you the same way his father had his mother.

Each day proved to be more straining than the day before. Jungkook would push for more from you, he would start with small things and gradually work his way up to what he really wanted. And it was exhausting. You never stood a chance against him. He was a monster that had disguised himself so skillfully that even you didn’t see what he was doing when this started.

Day 3: You weren’t allowed to sleep in “your” room anymore. His excuse was that his dad wouldn’t approve of leaving you alone. But you knew that was a lie, he just wanted to have you to himself for as long as he could. He took your privacy from you, the one thing you had been allowed to have.

Day 4: You spent the day together watching movies. You weren’t allowed to leave his hold the entire time. You weren’t allowed to deny his touch no matter how much you wanted to jump out of his arms and make a run for it for the second time. He held you the entire day and it felt so suffocating.

Day 5: You weren’t allowed to see his mom anymore. You were only allowed to talk to him, you could only spend time with him. You felt like you were going crazy being with just him again. Sure, his mother was completely brainwashed but still she was someone that wasn’t him.

Day 6: You weren’t allowed to dress yourself anymore. You hadn’t objected, but you did try and tell him that you could do it yourself, that you were an adult. But of course, you weren’t allowed to deny him. If you did, then he could hurt you. If you did, his father could kill you. What other choice did you have? How could you fight back when there was nothing protecting you except your captor’s empty promises? You hated the feeling of his hands on your body, skimming over your exposed flesh as he would change your clothes.

Day 7: You couldn’t deny his affection no matter how much you wanted to. You had found yourself pressed into the couch cushions, one of his hands woven through your hair as the other stroked your waist, his lips locked tightly to your own.

“Kiss me back.” He had whined into your mouth, harsh pants of air bursting over your lips. And reluctantly you did, because what else were you going to do? You had no other choice, there was no escape. Not while both of his parents were here. You had foolishly hoped that you could last ten days with him. That your punishment would end and you could regain what little freedoms he had given you before.

Day 8: You couldn’t sleep, not while he was doing what he was behind you. You had kept your eyes clenched tightly shut but you could still hear what he was doing, you could feel his breaths hitting the back of your neck as soft moans burst from his throat. His one hand gripping your hip tightly as he worked himself up, moaning your name desperately as you pretended to sleep.

You were disgusted, but you knew it would be better to pretend you were unaware than to snap at him.

Day 9: That night, he told you he wanted to bathe you. He wanted to cross the one hard line you gave him, and you were breaking ever so slowly. You didn’t flinch when he stripped you of your clothes or when he cradled your bare body to his chest, settling you into the tub. His eyes were hooded in lust, his gaze and hands straying as he washed you. This was what he wanted, full dependence and utter compliance. All you could do was close your eyes and pretend he was someone else, that you were anywhere but there.

Day 10: He wanted you. That was his “final” punishment. He had you laid out in the center of his bed, his hands running over every part of you he could touch while his lips marred the column of your throat. He was breathing heavily, raising himself up to kiss you as he reached down to pull your shirt up, only disconnecting from you to rip the fabric from your torso. He let out a deep groan, even though it was nothing he hadn’t already seen the night before. He frantically gripped the waistband of your pants and yanked them off to reveal more of your skin.

“My pretty, good, little girl.” He cooed, stroking your hips before his fingers curled into the fabric of your underwear, attempting to pull them away.

A sudden clarity overcame you and you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. Your hands snapped down to his wrists and held them tight, trying your hardest to fix him with a glare you didn’t know you were capable of.

“No.” You bit out, your nails sinking into the skin of his wrists.

“No?” He laughed, that dark look returning to his handsome face. “Don’t you remember, baby? You can’t say no.”

There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

But you were tired, so fucking tired of being scared all the time. You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, fixing him with the darkest glare you could manage. This wouldn’t go his way, no matter how much he thought he was winning, no matter how he played you like a Puppeteer controlling his helpless marionette. And with conviction you bit out that one word you had agreed not to say.

“No.”

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 6

A/N: Honey Bee finally made the smartest decision of her life in the last chapter and now...time to deal with the fallout. Thank you guys for supporting and loving this story too! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: None

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Spitting out the toothpaste into the sink, you groaned slightly when you realized that you had left your mouthwash back on your desk. Tilting your head under the tap, you got a mouthful of water and swished it around in your mouth, trying to get the last bits of toothpaste out.

When you were satisfied with the lackluster brushing, you quickly splashed some cold water onto your face to wake yourself up. But it was no use - you still looked as tired and dragged out as you felt. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped and cracked, and the joy you normally held in your eyes was all but gone. You had been going through the motions for the last three, feeling more like an empty shell than anything else. 

But you felt liberated - free. More so than you had in a long time. That in itself made your current struggle worth it.

Grabbing your toothpaste, toothbrush, and hairbrush, you stalked out of the bathroom, ready to slink back to your office before anyone else arrived. 

Looking furtively around the hall, you walked the short distance to your own office, almost making it to safety when you heard your name being called softly. Groaning inwardly, you cleared your throat and turned around, plastering on the best smile you could.

"Ally," you said softly, "y-you're here early!"

"I was just thinking the same thing," she joked, and while you could tell she meant no harm, it still caused you to panic slightly. She was well aware of you calling off your engagement, hell the whole world seemed to know, but she never seemed to pity you for it. Her eyes flicked to the items in your hands as a warmth crept into your chest and blossomed over your whole face, "I'm meeting a client early this morning because it was the only thing that fit into his schedule. Are you..."

You remained silent for a moment, hanging your head before letting out a long sigh, "look, I've just been staying here since things ended with Chad. I'm trying to find my own place, but its been a bit of a difficult go. Turns that a lot of people don't want to rent to you if you happen to have supposedly wronged Chad Williams. It seems like everyone knows him."

She reached out and gave your shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze. Meeting her eyes, you found a small smile on her face, luckily not one of pity, "I'm sorry he's making things miserable still. I'm guessing your parents are out of the question?"

"Absolutely not an option," you admitted with a stiff laugh, "my mom seemed okay at first but she and my father quickly came to the conclusion that I was in the wrong and making a horrible mistake. They insisted I was just going through a phase because of nerves. When I told them I was sure about my decision and wasn’t going back, they all but...disowned me. Imagine the shame I’ve brought upon them in their minds...they’re so old fashioned. Maybe they’ll come around one day.”

"Yikes," she said as you nodded, "can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I never liked him," she admitted softly, causing you to almost give yourself whiplash as you looked over at her, "there was just something about him that was off. I think - I know, you can do so much better."

"Thank you," you said as you laughed lightly, trying to hold the tears that threatened to well up at bay, "I hope so too."

"I mean it," she insisted, "you're kind, smart, pretty, and you've got a good heart. What more could anyone ask for?"

"Apparently a dutiful, quiet little wife..."

"Very funny," she teased, "why don't you come and stay with us? While you get your own place? We've got an extra bedroom that's not being used, and it's much better than staying here. Have you been sleeping on your hard old couch?”

"Yes..."

"Absolutely not," she shook her head, "come over when you're done for the day. We'll get the room ready for you. Anna will be happy to see you again too. And you know what, it's not an option, its a demand. Just come over tonight and we'll get you settled. I'll have Anna pick up some wine for dinner and everything."

"Ally, you're much too kind..." you said as her phone stared to ring. She looked at the screen and a big smile spread across her visage as her wife's name popped up on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," she laughed lightly, "tonight! No if, ands, or buts!"

You could only nod as she walked away, chattering excitedly as she went to her own office. Before stepping in and closing the door, she gave you a grin and wave that was enough to cause a single tear to roll down your cheek. It had been weeks since anyone had even shown you an ounce of kindness; most people had decided to scorn you instead, blaming you for everything that had happened. Wiping the warm drop away, you stepped foot into your own office, stashing your toiletries away for what you hoped would be the last time. Hopefully that everything you'd finally be able to have a proper, long, hot shower and sleep in a bed, two luxuries that you had been greatly missing. 

Pulling out a dress from the small wardrobe, you slipped it on, vowing to stop your little pity party. Sure, things weren't ideal right now, but you were still so much better off than others. That was something you did not take for granted.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Men really can be the worst,” Anna laughed, almost snorting into her wine as you held up your glass in a mock salute, “can you imagine being that pathetic and trying to sabotage someone you supposedly loved? I think it speaks volumes to his character.”

“The longer we were together, the more I realized that it was never about love, even if that’s how it started out. It was always about appearances and trying to please everyone else. It was getting so tiring.”

“I can only imagine,” Ally gave her your leg a small pat as you downed the rest of your glass, “but at least you’re free now. It’s easy to fall  into routine and not realize how unhappy we’ve become. We get used to just staying on one path. Usually it takes something big to make us realize what we’re doing isn’t what we wanted in the first place.”

“Okay Dr. Ally,” Anna teased her wife, “we’re not at the office. But I agree...I am curious, and happy, as to what caused you to realize that you deserve more.”

You felt the blood draining from your face almost immediately as you swallowed nervously, mouth dry. You weren’t about to delve into the memories and dreams that had been plaguing you over the weeks, becoming increasingly more frequent the closer your former wedding date had approached. Frankly, you hadn’t even admitted that to yourself yet, not out loud anyway. 

How were you supposed to tell yourself, let anyone else, that the reason you realized you deserved was better because you’d been dreaming of your high school boyfriend again? It had been twenty years, twenty long years without him - there was no reason you should have even given him a second thought. Yet...here you were. Still hung up on Frankie Morales, the boy that had earned your heart...and then brought it into a million pieces. You knew, you would be the first to admit, that it wasn’t all his fault, that you were to blame to an extent as well, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Ever since the day that you had run into him again, a day that should have been like any other, he’d been living rent free in your mind. Even if you hated him, even if you were still mad at him after all this time. You couldn’t help but wonder - what if. What if. 

What if he had come to California with you and you’d both stayed there? What if you had waited for him while you went to school and he was in the military? What if he’d come back to you long ago? Would you still be together? Would you be married to him? Would  you have a daughter or son that took on both of your best qualities? Or would you have eventually fallen out and broken up anyway, only to loathe each with every fiber of your being? Would you have stayed together?”

What if. What if. What if. 

It was that haunted you for so long now.

“Umm,” you snapped back into reality and pushed the thought of the boy you had loved out of your mind. You set the glass back down and made a small, noncommittal sound, “it was just a lot of things. The more real things became with the wedding planning the more I realized that I didn’t want this. It was at my last dress fitting actually, that I realized I couldn’t do it.” 

“That must have been quite a wake up call,” Anna’s eyes widened as she imagined the scene as you nodded, taking the almost empty bottle of wine and pouring the remainder into your class. 

“It was,” you admitted with a long sigh, “you should have been the poor dress maker. I almost ran out on her. But you know, even though things are far from perfect right now, I would still do it all again.”

“Cheers to that,” Ally held up her class, and the two of you clinked yours against it, “now to bigger and better things. You can, and will, do so much better.”

“Thank you both,” just being in their presence, let alone their home, had you feeling infinitely better, “I don’t even know where to begin to thank you.”

“What are friends for?” 

“I, however, do have some more good news,” Anna was proud of herself as the two of your gave her an inquisitive look, “I spoke to my friend who is a realtor today, no connection to Chad or anything, and he said he has a perfect little house available! It’s a little on the outskirts of town, a small, quiet neighborhood, but that it would be perfect for you. It’s not big, just a little two bedroom, one bath, but it’s all been redone recently, and it’s quaint. He showed me some pictures and I think you’d really like it.”

“You did...you did this for me?” you felt another wave of tears sting at the back of your eyes as she nodded. 

“I’m not trying to push this on you at all, or anything of the sort,” she promised, “but we were talking and it just came up and I thought of you. I thought I’d just tell you in case you were interested...you are, of course, welcome to stay with us however long you want.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” you said softly, “truly. I’d love to see the place. If you like, I’m sure it’ll be great. And honestly, it would be nice to get out of the city and be a little bit out of the way and I don’t need anything much. I just want a place that will feel like home...my own place.”

“Obviously it comes with the stipulation that we will get to help decorate and pick out furniture if you move into it.”

“I would expect nothing less,” you agreed, “it’s going to be nice getting my own things and having it be truly mine.”

“A fresh start,” she agreed, “I’ll tell Elijah that we’ll stop by tomorrow and take a look? How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you agreed, feeling your heart finally feel warm again, as a wave of calm washed over you, “absolutely perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of moving, although you technically didn’t have much to move, furniture shopping, unpacking, and organizing your new home. 

The house was cute, an older little home that had been recently renovated with a small yard and  a perfect spot for a garden. You could already picture yourself gardening once the cooler autumn and winter months were over. 

It wasn’t huge, but it had a spare bedroom you decided would serve as a home office and occasional guest room, although you figured you weren’t going to have many of those considering how easily everyone had cut you off. It was open, warm, and inviting, and it was perfect for what you wanted. It had brought up the idea of maybe adopting a dog or cat to keep as your friend. It had made you think of something that Frankie always said: anyone who wasn’t willing to share their home with an animal was as good as heartless.

It served as a sharp contrast to your former living situation; everything in the apartment you had shared with Chad had been cold, dark, and minimalistic. Nothing about it had ever felt truly homey, more like an ornate display at an art museum you were afraid to even look at. Chad had never wanted an animal of any sorts, not even a goldfish, claiming that it would take up too much time, too much space, and he just didn’t want something to take care of.

But your new home was the polar opposite, it was romantic and airy and filled with items and trinkets that made it feel like a home. A little animal friend would fit in perfectly. You were fitting in perfectly already. 

You’d even made it a point to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself to people. Your justification was that you had literally nothing to lose, your family had turned their backs on you, your ex-fiance had taken almost all of the so called friends you’d had, and were left to your own devices. In the worst case scenario, you’d have met a few unsavory people, and in the best case scenario you’d get to know your neighbors and maybe make a few friends.

Something in the stars seemed to align, as your neighbors turned out to be kind and welcoming, and you were sure the cookies you offered them weren't a deterrent either. They were mostly either older couples, or small families, a few roommates that lived together. The normalcy of it all was endearing, and to know that you had a place that you were welcome was enough to let your heart rest easy. 

The only mystery that remained was your next door neighbor, the one on your left side. Whoever it was had been missing, gone or something, since you’d moved in several weeks before. While trying to maintain a respectful distance, you’d kept an eye on the house to see if you could spy anyone coming or going, see a car...something. But you never did - not even seen so much as a porch light flicker on. It seemed odd, especially in this neighborhood.

One afternoon, in the middle of unpacking the new bits of furniture for your living room and rearranging everything for about the tenth time, curiosity got the better of you. Maybe it was because you were in the middle of watching some true crime documentaries as you worked but you just felt...nervous. You were concerned about the health and safety of this mysterious neighbor that you hadn’t even met. You’d hastily wiped the sweat from your brow before rushing over to the neighbor on the other side of the seemingly nonexistent neighbor. 

Unfortunately, much to your chagrin, the other neighbor, an older widowed man by the name of Eddie, who happened to have an adorable dog that you decided you’d offer to take on walks, was just as clueless as you. 

He said he’d seen the man, at least you narrowed it down to that much, come on and go on occasion, but that he kept odd hours. He commented that he must have worked evenings or something, because he wasn’t around much at that time and it was always quiet during the day. Apparently it wasn’t odd for him to be gone for days at a time, or at least for no one to notice him. At least he’d be a quiet neighbor if he ever appeared again. But the older man hadn’t seemed too concerned, so figured there was nothing to worry about. You ended finding out that he was likely around your age, with dark hair. That was about all that Eddie knew; he said the man whose name he couldn’t even remember had always kept to himself since he’d moved in a few years ago. 

You’d thanked him, given the small fluffy dog a few pets and trudged back to your own place, arms filled with various baked goods, including a delicious smelling loaf of banana bread. Eddie had proudly declared that he had taken up the hobby of baking in his retirement and he always had been plenty to share. You made a mental note to store that little piece of info away for future use. 

And yet still, even as more days passed, you still didn’t see hide nor hair of the mystery man. You’d gone to work each morning, wondering if maybe you just missed him and you had conflicting schedules. You didn’t know why you even cared so much, or what drew you to solving this mystery, but you were just inexplicably invested. 

One evening, as you were watching some Netflix and unwinding with a glass of wine, browsing the adoptable animals at the local shelter, it hit you. It was like the proverbial lightbulb had been switched on and you came up with a brilliant idea. When you’d moved in, you’d taken some fresh, homemade cookies to everyone in the small cul-de-sac - why didn’t you just make some for him? 

It was brilliant, you thought to yourself as you set the wine glass down and almost tossed your laptop to the floor in excitement. You would make your favorite cookies, soft, gooey chocolate chip ones you fancied so much, get them all safely in a container and drop them off when you felt for work in the morning. If they were gone by the time you came home that would mean he had to have been there. 

Yes, you thought to yourself, this is brilliant. No one could turn down a plate of fresh cookies. 

So you’d spent the rest of the evening, bouncing around the kitchen excitedly, pouring your heart and soul into the every little step it took to make the perfect treat. By the time you’d gone to bed, excited and worn out, the little package was sitting on your counter for your to grab on your way out. This was going to be it, you just knew it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up early the next morning, even before your alarm went off, a smile on your face despite being tired. You almost stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that this was the first, the first time in what felt like a small eternity that you woke up like that. It was a good feeling, and you hoped that you would be able to hang onto it. 

Once you’d showered and done up your makeup and hair to your liking, you slipped on a pretty golden dress. It always made you feel pretty, the color bringing a slight bit of joy into your heart. You always felt confident and good in it, and you decided it was just what you needed. If your last session ended early enough, you even planned on stopping by the animal shelter to see if you made a connection with any of the adoptable animals. It was going to be a good day. You could feel it in your bones. 

Once you were ready to go, you grabbed your pre-packed lunch from the fridge, along with your purse and the package for your mystery neighbor. Almost flouncing over to his porch because you were buzzing with energy, you hopped up the steps and set it on the front porch and center, in the middle of the doormat, topped off with a handwritten note introducing yourself. The mat was a generic one, and you did a little look around to see if you could find a name or any personal touches around the porch. But there was nothing - no clue as to who it could be. It was no matter, you told yourself, you would have your answers soon enough.

Giving the neatly wrapped container one last fond look, you headed to your car and off to work. Hopefully you’d be busy enough to keep your mind occupied. It was silly to get so invested in something so trivial and yet...here you were. An eternal dreamer and optimist at heart, just like you always had been, even as a teenager. Even if you had to suppress that side of yourself for some time, more so with each passing year, you were still the same girl underneath it all. 

The day felt like it had like it went by in a blur as you saw several of your regular patients, feeling like you were finally able to help them properly and give them your undivided attention. It went so well that you did manage to finish up early, which meant  you could have your fun and go look at animals. You knew it would be a challenge to meet different pets and not be able to take them all home, but you were willing to give it the old college try. 

You hadn’t bothered to stop home and change, opting to go straight to the shelter.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you'd gotten there and started looking at the different dogs, you knew it would be hard. 

So many of the sweet dogs came up to you, some wagging their tails in nervous excitement, some just beside themselves, but others were more reluctant, sitting and observing you. You went up to as many as you could, keeping a respectful distance from them and offering them your hand to sniff. A couple of them give you a few licks, letting you reach in and pet them, but getting distracted as soon as they spied other people. Sweet dogs, all of them, but those weren’t the ones for you. As you walked through the various dogs, you were disheartened to find that you didn’t seem to have a connection to any of them. You hoped they would go to good homes soon regardless. Maybe it wasn’t your day to find a companion, which was totally okay with you. You’d just come back some other day and make sure that one of them got a home in your adobe.

But as you neared the end of the last row, you stopped when you spotted a small dog, small for being a pitbull that was, sitting in the corner of her kennel, a sad, dejected look on her face. She was a pretty thing, light tan with white marking on her sweet face, but her eyes contained a deep sadness.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you said softly as you didn’t even hesitate to drop to your knees, dropping on the floor of the kennel, sliding a few fingers under the barrier keeping you from her, trying to coax her to you. She observed you with keen interest, but remained rooted in her spot, “you are so pretty! I bet you’re just as sweet too, aren’t you? I can tell…”

“She’s very sweet,” one of the shelter’s volunteers, a young boy by the name of Lucas that had let you in, said as he walked up to you, “but she’s really shy. She’s less than a year old, but she’s already had a go of it.”

“What happened to her?” you asked gently, keeping your voice down so you wouldn’t startle her, “she looks so sad.”

“She was abused by her former owner, sadly. They found her when they went to raid the owner’s home, apparently he was a small time drug dealer on top of it,” he explained and you made a small in the back of your throat as you just looked at her. It made your heart break to know that this poor animal, and so many others like her, were being abused for no reason - not that anyone, person or animal, should ever have been abused, “it’s made her shy, but she does warm up to people.”

“What’s her name?” you asked as she moved ever so marginally closer to you. You smiled at her, giving her an encouraging little nod.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy,” you called softly as her ears perked up slightly. It suited her, you decided, a soft pretty name for a pretty girl, “hi sweet Daisy. You are a big lovebug underneath it all, aren’t you?”

She turned her slightly to look at as you offered her a small, reassuring nod. 

“How about Miss Daisy Mae?” you asked her and you got a glimpse of her tail wagging ever so slightly, “yeah, I think that’s perfect too. May I pet you?”

It was silent, completely so sans for the other dogs in their kennels as you attempted to gain her trust. You didn’t want to scare her off, but you wanted to see if you could get her to come closer. Lucas told you could stay as long as you wanted, and you decided that you would do just that, plopping onto your bottom as you gently spoke to her. You spent some time sitting there, talking to her about anything and everything, and slowly, inch by precious inch, she came closer to you until she was just a few inches from your hand. When you moved your hand and she didn’t flinch, you gently petted her muzzle, tracing over it delicately with a few fingers. 

“You’ve been through a lot,” you mused quietly and she gently rubbed her head into your hand, “but you’ve got so much life left to live. So many happy things to come. Would you like to come home with me and see? I have a big bed that I have all to myself, and I could really use a companion to take up some of the space. Would you like to help me?”

She made a small sound as she looked up at you, her tail wagging ever so slightly. That was enough to convince you that you were making the right decision. Giving Daisy one last gentle touch, you slowly pulled your hand back to keep from startling her and jumped to your feet. She was yours, it hadn’t taken much to figure that out, and you were going to make sure she came home with you. 

Telling her you would be back in a little bit, you went off in search of Lucas, to tell him to get you all the paperwork so you could bring her home with that day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Daisy was all yours, you’d set her up in your car, draping a big, soft blanket over the backseat for her. You were glad you kept one in your car for whatever occasion called for it; this was the perfect time. As soon as she seemed to realize what was happening, Daisy’s eyes had lit up and she already seemed like a different dog, her tail going softly, but nonstop as she stayed close to your side. 

You’d stopped by the pet store on your way home, bringing her in with you as you stocked up on the best dog food, treats, several big fluffy beds (one for each room of the house naturally), and let her pick out several toys. Whatever she wanted she got, honestly, and before you knew it before pushing a huge cartful to the counter to the pay. Daisy, now in a pretty yellow collar and leash, followed closely by your side, a little stuffed bear in her mouth. This felt so right, so natural, almost like you had meant to find her. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had felt this much joy in your heart, and you hoped the feeling would never go away.

“And this is where we live,” you told her as you pulled into the driveway, pulling up to the garage and turning off the car. She stood up and went to the window, looking out eagerly. Your break broke a little when you realize she probably never got to run and play like any puppy should, but you vowed to change that. You got and opened the door, not even bothering to stop her as she jumped out and started to sniff everywhere. 

Sighing contentedly at the sight of the happy dog, the one that had quickly turned from nervous to optimistic, you started to gather everything out of the car to bring inside. Daisy came back to your side, following you with keen attention as you opened the door to the house and let her explore. 

It wasn’t until your last excursion to the car to bring in the last of the toys, that your attention wandered back to your MIA neighbor. When you studied his house, you noticed that all the lights were off, and there was no car in the driveway. The package you had you left for him was still right where you had placed that morning. A small, dejected sigh left your lips as you quickly dashed over and retrieved the package. It was only slightly heartbreaking,  but you knew it wasn’t due to any fault of yours. But still...you couldn’t help but wonder. Who was he? Where was he? Maybe one day your questions would be answered, but at least for now you had your new friend to keep you company. Just as you thought about her, you heard a small, almost tiny bark from your door as Daisy poked her head out and looked excitedly at you.

“Coming sweet girl!” you promised her as you ran back over to her. This day was decidedly not a waste in the slightest, you reminded yourself, you had a new friend and that was more important than anything else.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Several more days passed, and Daisy adjusted to life with you without a hitch. She really was the sweetest girl you had met, and she had won a big spot in your heart, and bed, almost instantly. Gone were the cookies you had baked for the neighbor you thought might not actually exist, eaten with some milk as you watched Netflix late into the evening with Daisy snoozing next to you. 

Something though, whatever little stubborn streak you had, told you to keep trying.

So you did.

That night you dragged yourself back to the kitchen and repeated the painstaking process of making your now neighborhood famous cookies again. He was going to get these cookies come hell or high water. This time Daisy joined you in the kitchen and watched your every move intently, as you walked her through the process, giving her your best impression of some lofty Food Network chef. 

Just as you had previously done earlier in the week, you prepped everything and stuck the same note on the top, making sure it looked perfect. Even if it ended up as another batch that you would eat, you wanted to go through the efforts and ensure it was perfect. 

The next morning, you herded Daisy into the car, allowing her to come to your office with you. She had been enjoying coming to your office and greeting your clients, being a good girl and laying on her bed while you worked. Many of them seemed to find her comforting, and as thought she could sense when they needed something, which she probably did, she’d often go to comfort them with wet kisses and nuzzles. Ally had suggested that you look into her having certified as a therapy dog, which you decided was a perfect idea. 

You wandered over to his porch and left the little package again and turned to head off to work. Whatever was meant to happen would happen. So if he didn’t come and get the cookies, so be it. You’d stop worrying about it and let it go. 

When you got home that evening, you brought everything inside and let Daisy into the backyard to roam around before her dinner time, when you looked through the front windows to try and see your neighbor’s porch. You huffed when you came to the conclusion that you were at just the wrong angle to be able to see anything. Stalking out the front door to get a better look, you sighed deeply when the package was once again there. What had you really expected? You’d struck out for weeks now, the man was an enigma to yourself and everyone else around, it was a far cry that you’d ever really see him. 

Grumbling at yourself for being too hopeful and optimistic, you trudged over to his porch, ready to take the cookies back again and enjoy them for yourself. Maybe you could bring them, and Daisy, over to Eddie and see if he would enjoy them and the dogs would get along. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was something anyway.

You bent down to pick up the small container, ready to head back home and get on with your day. But just as you swooped up the container, you heard the door unlock, causing you to jump back in surprise, dropping the container and letting it clatter to the ground. You took a step back and looked up, finding the door open, but the screen closed. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out the person on the other side but found it almost impossible. 

“H-hi,” you stammered nervously, hoping the person wouldn’t think you were stealing or snooping around, “I-I moved into the neighborhood a few weeks ago, and I was just...I made cookies! I was going to introduce myself but I hadn’t seen you or anything, so I figured I’d leave them for you. They-they’re not old though, I made this batch last night.”

Nothing but silence met your ears for several moments as you nervously picked up the container to display it for him. You were nervous suddenly, terrified that you had somehow offended him, or...something.

“I-I’ll get going,” you said as you set the cookies on the bench that was near the door. Unsure why you felt the need to keep speaking you gave him your name, letting it linger in the air for a moment, “I live right next door, so I guess maybe I will see you around. Yeah...well, umm...goodbye!”

But before you made it off the porch, you heard the screen door open, and swing shut. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ready to turn around and make a proper introduction when you heard your name whispered so quietly, that you thought you might have imagined it. That voice...that soft, gentle voice caused your heart to skip a few beats. You knew that voice. 

Turning around slowly, you came face to face with the man that had been on your mind for weeks. You brought your eyes up to the man’s face and a small gasp of surprise left your lips. 

“F-Frankie?” except this wasn’t the Frankie you’d known. No, this man was tired looking, nothing but sheer exhaustion on his face, dark circles, parched lips, no trace of facial hair, his hair flattened from what you knew was a signature hat. This was a different man, a world weary man, a man who you never intended on seeing again. But you knew that voice, you knew it so well, you’d recognize it anywhere, even after all this time. But there was something about him, how he was looking at you that broke our heart. 

He remained silent as his dark eyes watched you, wondering how and why on earth you’d ended up as his neighbor. It was like some force was at play, some weird thing that kept bringing the two of you together. 

He remained silent as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes quickly flicked to your left hand. You straightened up when you noticed that and got ready to walk away, unsure of how to feel in that moment. Once again, your life was thrown in a complete tailspin. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to find any words. 

But before you could leave his porch, his hand went to your wrist, taking it gently in his large hand as you immediately turned around and gave him a wide eyed stare.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you looked at him in silent question, and he did the same. 

This was Frankie - your Frankie. After all these years, he was still yours.

Before either of you could say anything, he gently grabbed your face and studied it for a moment before crashing his lips onto yours. It took a moment for you to react, and for a few beats before you kissed him back, not even having to think about it. But just as quickly as it had started you came to your senses and while part of you was screaming to continue to kiss him, the logical part of your brain took over and you pushed him away from you. Immediately realizing what you were doing, he let go of you and took a step back. 

“Don’t,” you insisted sharply, your voice crackling on the singular word, “don’t. You don’t get to do that. I shouldn’t have done that. Not anymore. Never again.”

Before he could say anything, you dashed away from him, running back over to your house. This had to be some sort of weird dream, surely life couldn’t be throwing another challenge at you. Surely you’d been through enough.

Surely you weren’t neighbors, after all this time and years, with Frankie Morales. 

Life couldn’t be that cruel...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[calpops]

falling facade | c.h.

part ten: falling finale

part one: falling flowers | part two: falling freedom | part three: falling fears | part four: falling failures | part five: falling fame | part six: falling feelings | part seven: falling forces | part eight: falling fractures | part nine: falling fires

5k words

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

Calum and Arden lived on in a thin veil of secrets. One much less weighted than before. Only hiding the real side of their relationship; they decided to save it for themselves. There were no more confusing twists between family and stories to keep up with. They had each other and one secret to maintain. The end of the contract was nearing. But a tour still laid before them and the agreements they signed themselves into. Arden would join, posts would be made and paparazzi would be avoided. Then the inevitable call off of the engagement would ensue. For the past couple of months everything was easy.

New routines were built around them; rehearsal for tour and Arden’s life at the gallery left them with nighttime escapades and early mornings made of bliss and sinful secrets. A weekend getaway helped ground them into their own reality and remind them all that was real between them. Calum wouldn’t change it. He felt normalcy creeping around him, ease and warmth and a sense of security in the relationship they built and the fact it was only between them.

“Spend the night?” Calum tried persuading, a pouty lip and pleading eyes usually doing the trick.

“Don’t you have an early morning rehearsal?” Arden asked with narrowed eyes and a tilted head. “Isn’t Ashton meeting you here before it?”

Calum sighed. Ashton was one of few obstacles in their balance of secrecy. He saw the way they were after the paparazzi stunt, more than likely saw the kisses and heard the soft words Calum had used to calm Arden. They had agreed with thin words and confused casualties that Ashton wouldn’t assume what was happening or ask any questions about it. Now his appearances at Calum’s place left more hurdles to jump. But it was nothing compared to the marathons they were previously running to keep up with everything else.

“I’ll get up early. Be in the kitchen before he’s here. You can sleep in with Duke,” Calum offered with a pouty kiss to her forehead. “I’ll bring back breakfast from the diner.”

She smiled and reached down to pet Duke who made a home between them in the twisted sheets. “If I’m sleeping in you better bring back lunch instead.”

“So you’ll stay?” Calum asked around a laugh and victorious smirk. “Two nights?”

“We’ll see,” she mumbled and shifted to sit up, moved past Duke and straddled Calum’s lap in one swift motion. She ducked down to peck his lips, smirk into the kiss and break away before Calum could ask for more. “You better have a good bribe for me tomorrow night.”

Calum trailed a lone finger up her spine, knowing her reaction to the ticklish touch would be to arch her back and press closer into him. “Aren’t I enough?” He asked when the distance was closed and a slight gasp fell from her lips.

“Always,” she answered without missing a beat.

Morning came without notice. The sunlight that usually spilled in through the windows was blocked by pulled curtains. Alarms that would usually go off were silenced. Phone calls didn’t ring, text messages only lit up the screens. Oblivious and unconscious bliss hung over Calum and Arden in the early morning hours in which he should have been awake. In each other’s embraces neither heard nor stirred at the knock on the front door, the sound of a key in the lock or the squeak of opening hinges. Footsteps were muted and lost to dreams that had Calum shifting closer to Arden, throwing an arm over her and bringing her in as close as possible. Most mornings they woke that way, warm skin painted by lips and hair tousled, bodies entangled as one. Eyelashes slowly fluttering in time with content heartbeats and grins to greet each other. Instead, panic floored Calum at the opening of the bedroom door, a frown cut across his face and his lurching body woke Arden.

Calum’s eyes flew open and heart raced as Ashton stood frozen in the doorway; taking in the scene of the two together in a way that couldn’t be chalked up or watered down to assumptions. Arden was slower to rise, sheet thankfully tucked around her. Calum could see the alarm on her face as soon as she processed the situation.

“We uh, we’ve got rehearsal,” Ashton said and quickly made an exit, nearly slamming himself against the doorframe as he pivoted to make a quick leave.

“Cal,” Arden managed to get out under the sheer trepidation that now swung all around them. Thinly veiled secrets were coming to light.

“I’ll take care of it,” Calum said and stood, threw on sweatpants and traipsed after Ashton.

“Maybe it’s time everyone knows,” Arden lightly called after Calum but it went over his head in his rush to make things okay.

The conversation with Ashton was quick and tense. Ashton told Calum he wouldn’t lie to Michael if he was directly asked but he wouldn’t bring it up unprompted. If they didn’t want Ashton to know they needed to act like he still didn’t, not take his knowledge for granted or put him in the middle. He didn’t want to hurt Calum and Arden but he didn’t want to hurt Michael either. Calum respected all of that, agreed with the sentiments and promised they wouldn’t put him in any more uncomfortable situations. He could only thank him in the end with a tight lipped attempt at a smile and awkward pat on the back before excusing himself to finish getting dressed.

“It’s handled,” Calum told Arden and gave her a chaste kiss. “Try to get back to sleep.”

***

The rest of tour rehearsals went on with just a touch of awkwardness that floated in the air. Ashton was a bit more on edge than usual but began letting it go when Calum kept it under wraps and away from him. Arden was only a presence when necessary during the rehearsals. Everything fell back into its rightful place just in time for the tour to begin.

Sneaking around became a habit once more. One they became well versed in during the tour. Moments alone became scarce, constantly surrounded by crew and team members. The busses were always packed, the hotel nights were few and far between as the shows were nightly with minimal time and too much distance between them and their schedules conflicted with the tour and the gallery. When Arden was there she found a way to slip out of her own bunk, managed to stay quiet enough to climb into Calum’s when they were both sure no one was still awake. Whispered words and soft touches became their biggest form of intimacy. Calum was grateful for any gaps in the schedule that could offer them time away from the chaos and solely with each other.

One morning afforded them that kind of time. Arden was visiting for a weekend she had off, keeping up the guise of the engagement for the fans with social media posts as anything to do with paparazzi had a firm stop put to it. Michael was sleeping in, the crew was oblivious, Ashton understood and Luke was too wrapped up in his own relationship to bat an eye as they slipped out and headed for a diner reminiscent of their own. Ripped pleather seats, stained tabletops and bittersweet coffee welcomed them with a warm and familiar embrace.

“I’ve missed this,” Arden said around a sigh before bringing her coffee mug to her glossy lips. “I knew the tour would be crazy but I didn’t think it’d be this difficult. Feel like I never really get to see you.”

Calum agreed. Moments that could have been theirs were abandoned in favor of keeping secrets. Casual intimacy was few and far between. Only night time escapades in a cramped bunk ever gave them what they were seeking. Or at least some of what they wanted. But those nights were also filled with exhaustion and they passed out before catching up with each other.

“We have a hotel tonight,” Calum reminded, already buzzing at the prospect of a king bed, soft sheets, and slipping Arden his extra key. “You get me all night.”

Arden smiled but Calum detected a bite of sadness behind it; an apprehension and disbelief lingering in hazel, dulling what usually shone as bright as an ocean sunrise. She shifted in her seat and thumbed at the laminated menu mindlessly, the pages likely a blur at her downcast gaze. Calum felt her mood shift back, eyebrows furrowing and a small shake of her head breaking the discontent.

“Do you think once the tour is done we should tell Michael?” She finally asked and her downtrodden look made much more sense. The secrets were weighing heavy on both of them; even when times were light and felt as if everything was right, there was still that piece to shoulder the weight of.

“We will. Once the tour is over and we aren’t spending everyday with him or causing trouble for the band.”

“I know,” Arden said and gave a slight nod. “I can wait. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize everything you guys have worked for.”  

Her words were reminiscent of those in their first meeting with management. Arden was protective of Michael and the success the band had brought him. Even when she felt like she was living in his shadow she would never wish the light away from him, never want to dim his accomplishments or hurt his friendships. Calum surmised that was most of the weight she was feeling. He felt it at times too. Other times he felt no want to tell. Everything had found a rhythm. They found each other and peace, they found control and ways to stay themselves in a fight against all they were chained to.

Calum offered her comfort with an outreached hand. Their alone time wasn’t long lived that morning but it gave Calum a new perspective and a reminder that the night would be theirs once more—no need for escaping into closets or slinking into the shadows of themselves. Night came to them after a whirlwind of a day, after a performance with subtle glances to side stage where Arden stood, always on Calum’s side, always waiting with impatient smirk and even more subtle teases. The hotel wa dead quiet when Calum finally heard the door handle turn and soft footsteps pad over to the bed. Arden was much more graceful and stealthy about roaming through the halls. No one but the band would question her being in Calum’s room and everyone else questioned why she wasn’t. They lied and lied and spun half truths until everyone was left dizzy and not wanting to know the reasons. The art of evasion and escape had been perfected.

“Cal? You still up?” Her voice was quiet as she approached, a timid hand reaching out for the bed in the dark. Calum heard it glide along the sheets and captured it with a silent movement.

“Mhm,” he murmured and helped pull her into him, secured her into his embrace and felt himself relax.

Some nights they were able to find privacy in their own room and those times were made of needy sighs, greedy grips and begging lips that would leave marks to be dealt with in the morning. Some nights were gentler. Slower yet sensual and laced with a languid passion Calum had never felt before. Tonight was different. Exhausted and homesick, a craving for intimacy in a more gentle form clouding both of them. Calum could tell Arden wanted exactly the same; a night to catch up and feel one another in more innate ways. She rested her head against his chest, he felt her feet tap under the covers in time with his heartbeat and smirked up at the dark ceiling above them.

“The gallery wants me back by Monday at eight,” she began with a sigh and Calum could nearly picture her biting her lip as she took a moment to contemplate her next words. “I still don’t know what I want to do. I thought this was just going to be temporary. It doesn’t feel that way anymore. But it doesn’t feel right either.”

Calum was temporarily stunned into silence as he tried to figure out how best to respond to her seemingly out of the blue declaration. Their conversation in the yard came tumbling back to him at full force. The doubts that plagued her and the desire to do something more with her life; to know she wanted more and figure out exactly what that something might be.

“You don’t need to know right now,” Calum mused and shifted, maneuvered them so he could face her and gently run his fingertips along her jaw. “You have a lifetime to figure it out.”

“What if I never do? What if I’m not meant for anything extraordinary? What if I need to just settle for a side step out of the shadows and realize it doesn’t lead to some grand path?”

“You will. You are. You’re already on that path,” Calum said and knew her face was crumpling in confusion; never quite able to see herself the way Calum saw her. Never quite able to realize her worth.

“Some are just longer than others.”

Arden let out a dry laugh and found her composure at the drop of a dime; sobering quickly and lapsing into a heated silence as they both thought over her fears. Calum knew she would find what she was looking for, hoped he was in the picture.

“I really hope you’re right,” she mumbled around a broken breath that did its best to fracture her pride and splinter her faith.

“I am. And I’m proud of you no matter where you end up,” he said.

He had stated to make it a point to express his pride and admiration for her ever since she admitted she felt no one had any reason to be. He could nearly feel her smile, felt her warmth as she scooted back in close to him and buried her face against his cool skin. Fingertips drifted to run through her hair and hear the sigh of contentment that left at her at the easy form of affection.

“I don’t know if what I’m doing is enough. But right now is.”

Moments and words like those were what made Calum wish to go on in their own secret little world. Ignorance on behalf of everyone else seemed like bliss. Being alone together was enough for Calum and the moment.

***

Calum froze in fear, his conversation with Ashton stopping on a dime as he spotted Arden with an incredulous look on her face. They were on the side of the stage as the openers sound checked, finding a rare occasion to discuss the situation of Ashton knowing and when or if they were going to tell Michael. Usually Calum kept it all to himself and between him and Arden. He had struck a deal with Ashton to keep it that way. But Ashton brought it up; opened the door to the conversation and Calum was more than willing to speak about it with loose lips and unthought out words. He didn’t know exactly what Arden overheard but he could tell she didn’t like it. He panicked, moved away from Ashton and brought her further into the depths of backstage. She was stiff and reluctant.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, desperately, hoping she would piece together what she heard and why she didn’t like it.

“Do you not want to tell anyone?” Arden asked, face crumpling in disbelief at the situation. Calum saw the hurt in her eyes, heard the waver in her voice as it cracked. “Ever?”

Music thumped around them in defending bass lines that collided with the nerves wracking Calum’s body. What she overheard was only a sliver of the conversation, just a breath that danced off his lips in a fleeting confession to Ashton. It’s nice no one else  knows about us. I could get used to it being like this. I don’t want to tell anyone else. He meant it but not in the ways Arden took it. Miscommunication was hanging precariously between them, swaying on a frayed line with broken words and breaking hearts.

“No,” Calum quickly spat out and tried to move to her but she stepped back. “I didn’t mean it like that. Arden, listen, you know me. You trust me. I just meant—“

Calum faltered, unsure how to explain himself in the heat of the moment. It was only months ago his words had been spun through the press misconstrued; Arden hadn’t believed them, had written them off so quick with only trust in her eyes. Now she was pallid and swaying as she tried to figure it out. Calum realized it was different. The words came from his mouth, she heard them in the moment and the months since he had asked to wait to tell Michael and the rest about them did little to instill faith. Arden waited only a moment with arms crossed and glossy eyes before shaking her head.

“If you never want to tell anyone then there doesn’t need to be anything to tell.”

She moved to pass him, the crew around them was oblivious to the quarrel, Calum reached out to stop her, a hand on her arm and a pleading look in his eyes. She let out a breath and recoiled from his touch. In one motion she slipped the ring off her finger and placed it to his chest against her palm. Calum quickly captured her hand before she could take it away, before the ring could drop and everything they had been working for could shatter. That one word came back and Calum realized it was time.

“Come with me,” he requested, hand scooping hers without waiting for a proper answer, the ring falling into his hold as he led her down the hall and back towards the green room. He pocketed the ring, unsure if she would ever want it back. “I’m ready.”

She reluctantly trailed him and Calum fought down the rising panic swelling in his chest. The door was closed, he knew Michael was behind it. He knew he was the place to start in proving what he truly meant. Calum opened the door to be met with confused glances and silence from his best friend. Michael was perched on the arm of a couch, Luke was downing a beer and Ashton was nowhere in sight; probably off with the openers after the incident Arden overheard.

“Mike, I gotta tell you something,” Calum began and pushed past the fear, drowned out the warning bells and listened to the words that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for months. Arden was slightly behind him, tears that once threatened to fall now staining her cheeks. Calum turned to her, wiped her pain away gently with the pads of his thumbs and kissed her for just a fleeting moment. “I’m in love with your sister.”

“Love?”

“I know.”

Arden questioned with hope in the one syllable and Michael declared with an air of not caring in the two words.

“You know?” Calum asked, forgetting for a split second that confession was the first time Arden had heard it.

“I’m her brother and your best friend. Not an idiot,” Michael said as if it was obvious and cut a look at Arden as if to keep the possibility of sibling banter about idiocy at bay. Calum could almost hear Arden’s chiding yet lighthearted and drawn out well. “I see the way you look at each other. I know how much time you’ve spent together. I’ve seen empty bunks at night. I can see that you’re happy together. I figured you’d tell me eventually.”

“You love me?” Arden asked again, completely ignoring all that Michael said, or taking it in and letting in form the question once more, Calum wasn’t sure. Shock wrote itself clearly on her face, danced along her eyes and had her head shaking in disbelief.

“Of course I do,” Calum soothed. He was hesitant but pulled her closer, took in a breath of relief when she was receptive.

“Then why didn’t you want to tell anyone?”

“Can we talk, alone?” Calum answered with his own question to her, knowing the conversation was better had away from everyone else.

She nodded but was wary in the motion and slow to leave the room with him; casted glances back at Michael to make sure he was actually as okay with it as he seemed. He didn’t make any protests, didn’t cause a scene or even bat an eye. He knew. Their fear had been misplaced, too loud for rationale to tell them he would understand. Too riddled with anxiety and stereotypes to believe that he might even be supportive of the relationship. It was foolish, now that Calum really thought about it. All Michael would ever hope for was both of their happiness, and if they found it together then so be it. If roles were reversed Calum would want the same.

They found a place down the hall where the music wasn’t as loud and people didn’t pass by. Calum took her hand, grateful she didn’t pull away or flinch at the contact. He took in a deep breath and collected the words of explanation in his mind before beginning.

“Everything was starting to feel like it fit. It was good. Easy. It was so simple to have each other and not let anyone know about it. It felt like we were finally ours. Not management’s. Not our doubts or fears about our parents. Not the scrutiny of Michael. You were mine, I was yours and we were just us. I meant that was nice. That if I could make it feel that way forever I would. I just didn’t know how to say it like that. Not until now. Especially not to Ashton; you’re the only one who should be hearing it. And I wish the first time you heard that I love you wasn’t because of that.”

Calum got it all out in one go, caught his breath after his monologue and then held it as Arden contemplated his explanation. She held stares with him, eyes blank and in telling of any clues. Calum noted the stillness that captured her, the usual knocking of knees, wiggling legs or swaying bodies in times of anxiety completely absent. She did bite her lip, scrunched her nose just a touch and pressed her thumb against the back of his hand.

“I didn’t hear anything,” she said and shrugged, a subtle smirk lifted the corners of her lips.

Calum was dumbfounded for a split second until his mind caught up to his words and the wish he ended on and then he understood a chance was being bestowed upon him to get it right.

“But, I love you too,” she said in a whisper and closed the distance between them by wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and standing on the tops of her toes. Peaches and sugar and all that was Arden came back to him.

He felt the weight of the ring in his pocket. Let it formulate a plan in the forefront of his mind as she kissed him, lips as sweet as ever and welcoming to the need of deepening it that consumed Calum. It wasn’t for long, but in those few minutes fear had made a home in his heart. He was scared he would lose her, scared that sweet would turn bitter on his tongue forever.  

“I’m sorry,” he said against her lips, realizing he gave an explanation and not an apology for the pain he hadn’t meant to cause her.

She kissed him again and it told him he was forgiven. She would pretend she hadn’t heard that four letter word but ensured he knew she felt it too. He would say it again. He would hope she would too.

***

The time to say it again came on a night when Calum’s plan came to full fruition. He had held onto the ring, Arden had asked about it—told him she hoped he was hawking it to get the money back now that the contractual agreement was over and it was a moot point. The “split” was as uneventful as they could have hoped for. Management was more agreeable than they had ever been. Calum surmised it may have had something to do with the power he wielded with a photo post of the two of them as the clock struck midnight and the contract ran out. He captioned it to explain the engagement was off but they were still together, happy and figuring things out as they had so aptly used as explanation before. There wasn’t much management could do to finesse around it. They had finally won. Finally found their freedom and rhythm of normalcy—no more lies followed them, no more secrets shrouded their nights and intimate moments, no more doubts and misconstrued words to make holes in their hearts. They had each other, just exactly as Calum had wanted. And Arden had found her path. The art gallery led to connections and inspiration that found her on her way to writing and illustrating a children’s book about finding your dreams and emphasizing that having a little help along the way was okay.

The night was dark, the moon didn’t grace the sky and only a few stars speckled across the black. Street lights shined paths on the pavement as they walked. Their hands were held and swung between them, easy small talk filled the night air. Calum stopped them abruptly, their diner stood lit up with half of a neon sign. The lights never fully functioned and it added to the charm. Arden had even captured that in the painting that now hung in Calum’s living room.

“Arden,” Calum started, unsure how to start, a blush consuming him as he struggled with his words. She gazed up at him, offered a knowing grin; Calum realized she must have put the special plans together. She was expecting it, waiting for that special word to be said again. She knew. “You know I’m in love with you.”

She batted her eyes and bit her lip as she slowly nodded. “And you know I feel the same. I love you.”

Calum couldn’t stop his emotions from showing, heart on his sleeve, love in his eyes and warmth in his smile as he heard her say it back—again. Though he knew, had already heard her whisper it, it was still nice to hear. He hoped he could continue hearing it. Knowing it would never get old.

“There’s something else I want to say and something I need to give you,” he went on, reached into his coat pocket, hands finding smooth velvet and heart racing at the contact. He could feel in his bones that she would appreciate it, knew in every emotion that coursed through him that it was the right moment.

“Oh?” She asked with an arched eyebrow and line of sight following his hand to his pocket. “I hope it’s nothing too much. I didn’t get you anything.”

Calum waved off her concern. She never liked when he spent money on her, always wanted to split. Preferred time to gifts and always tried to keep the balance even. He let out a breath as he decided how next to approach what needed to be said. A thought entered his mind and he couldn’t push it away before one of his knees hit the ground as his hand enveloped and brought out the jewelry box within his coat.

“Marry me, maybe someday? When we’re both ready and our friends and families can know and it can be real?” Calum asked around a smirk and flipped open the jewelry box—his plan shining under the lights.

Arden’s eyes were blown wide, head shaking minutely back and forth as a dry laugh tumbled from her painted lips. “Stand up.”

Her hands guided him back up from his position on the ground, cupped under his jaw and brought him in for a kiss. The jewelry box was temporarily forgotten in Calum’s hold. When she pulled away she spared it a glance before furrowing her brows and letting out another giggle.

“Were you trying to give me a heart attack?” She asked and processed what was inside the box, turned back to it with wonder in her eyes and fingered at the necklace laid within. “Are those… the diamonds from my ring?”

Calum nodded with a broad and gleaming smile; happy she put it together and understood the meaning behind it. “I had them reset. There’s no need for a ring right now, but I couldn’t imagine you without them.”

“It’s stunning,” she praised in a breathy whisper and turned back to ask with her eyes if he could put it on her. He did so gently, brushing hair out of the way and clasping it at the nape of her neck. He peered down, found it much more fitting and delicate in a necklace than as a ring. It was Arden.

“You know, you didn’t answer my question,” he said as he pulled her into him and enveloped her in his embrace.

He felt her laughter. “Yeah. I’ll maybe marry you. Someday.”

He tilted her chin up, fingers light and trailing. “How about in the meantime we just go home and you spend a night or two or three or four?”

She thought for just a second; the back of Calum’s neck heating and stomach sinking until she said, “No maybes about that. I definitely will.”

They walked back to the car, drove back to Calum’s place, back home where everything had finally all fallen into place. Duke greeted them at the door. Cushioned comfort welcomed them, promises of breakfast and not worrying about what the night and morning would bring eased their souls. Knowing they could wake up to each other tomorrow and as long as they wished to warmed their hearts. Calum knew what it was like to fall, to feel the wind at his back and now he finally knew she could always be home to catch him. A ring turner necklace and words already known but said once more gave them a falling finale to the morning in Vegas, the signed contracts, glimmering uncertainty of what feelings were real or fake, and everything in between. Their falling facade finally broke and settled around them, a falling finale bidding them love and trust, freedom and hopes for forever together.

<< >>

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[floorbe]

Adora x Fem!Witch!Reader “Secret”

Request: can i request an adora x reader oneshot where adora discovers the secret that her s/o is a witch who was born with dark magic after her s/o defends her in battle?

A/N: uhh I guess this is set in like... season 4? 

Warning(s): Season 3 and on spoilers, mild angst, angst with a happy(ish?) ending

Summary: You’ve been hiding the fact that you can use dark magic from everyone around you, including your girlfriend, Adora, for as long as possible. Eventually, time runs out. 

Pairing(s): romantic Adora x Reader

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Word count: 2,096

~

You’d managed to keep it a secret from everyone so far. You’d gone out of your way to not use your magic, even going as far as pretending you don’t know a thing about magic itself to throw off any suspicions. Granted, it had made battles more difficult than you would like, but you managed. It was tough but necessary. You need to protect yourself, even if your friends and allies seem to be more understanding than most. Being a natural born dark magic user isn’t something taken lightly, no matter how kind someone is. The reputation behind it will always follow you, no matter how inherently good you are.

So, hiding it seemed like your only option. It was safe, it wouldn’t risk you or anyone around you if no one knew it even existed. It went smoothly for a while, it wasn’t hard to keep up the act as long as you still had time to yourself prepare and keep your lies straight.

Though that was before you started dating Adora, A.K.A. She-Ra. 

Adora was with you a lot more after you started dating, and while previously you could manage your facade with briefer interactions, it slowly became harder as you spent more time together. You would accidentally spout out a correction about dark magic, or a fact that no one knew, something that hinted at your secret. You always brushed it off as something you’d overheard, something you’ve read, but your facade was on the verge of crumbling. 

You could only keep it from people for so long now, but what would they think? Magic itself is used by almost everyone in all the kingdoms, but dark magic? You saw how Shadow Weaver was treated when she was taken to Bright Moon. Even when she had tried to help others, she was still treated as an enemy. (Part of why is Adora’s past with her, you reason, and the fact that she used it to hurt others. But the other part is her dark magic, which probably only furthered the stain on it since she used it for harm, you remind yourself, and deflate any hope sprouting within you.) You’re sure you’d be more readily accepted than her, but there would still be the crack of distrust from everyone around you. 

Even if Shadow Weaver had switched sides, dark magic was still treated as a taboo, even if used in their favor. What would be the consequence for you? Not only for using it, but for hiding it? While not all dark magic is innately harmful, a great deal of what’s known about it is. For someone to be using it so naturally and as their primary source of offense... It wouldn’t bode well for you. 

Dark magic users are not to be trusted. Even while dating She-Ra herself you couldn’t be excused from that mentality that was instilled in everyone around you. You figure it will just be easier for everyone to continue hiding it for as long as you can, though a part of you knows that you’re slipping up more than usual lately. It’s only a matter of time before someone starts to get suspicious and starts snooping around. 

But, as it turns out, it never even reached that point before it was revealed.

-

You wake up alone in the bed that you and Adora share. Groggily reaching over to her side of the bed, you vaguely realize that it’s cold. Adora must’ve gotten up much earlier. Sighing, you drag yourself out of bed, sleepily going through your morning routine. You wondered where Adora went, she doesn’t usually get up before you... Maybe she had a She-Ra thing? Probably. While not often, she had been known to “sneak” (in reality she just didn’t want to wake you, she believes you need all the sleep you can get) out of bed to attend business that didn’t really require you. It was sweet, but sometimes annoying when you’d wake up to find out something had happened while you were asleep.

Finishing up getting ready for the day, you head out to go find Adora. Walking around the palace, you don’t find anyone but the usual guards (and Shadow Weaver, but you’ve made it a point to avoid her at all costs in case she somehow just... knows, so as soon as you see her you turn the other direction.) who point you towards one of the planning rooms. Huh, did she have a battle meeting after all? Why weren’t you woken up?

Opening the door, you find Adora and the rest of the princesses (and Bow, of course) circled around the round table. They all turn to you, greeting you in a friendly manner. Adora bounds over to you and pecks you on the cheek. “Hey! I just sent a guard to wake you, but... I guess I didn’t need to,” she chuckles, sliding her arm around your waist and tugging you to the table. Okay, that explains why you weren’t woken up. “We were just discussing what we think Catra’s next plan is going to be.” 

“Oh, okay,” you say, leaning into Adora while glancing at the map rolled out. Your eyes flicker around it, tuning out the rest of the discussion as you try and think. Eyes traveling around the colorful markings of the map, you follow the red trail, symbolizing Catra’s path of wrath, scrawled on it.

“What do you think, Y/N?” you hear Bow ask, and you snap out of your daze. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked what you think Catra’s next plan is?” Bow repeats kindly.

You think for a moment, absentmindedly tapping on the table with your fingers, “I think she’ll-”

*Boom!*

“-strike soon,” you finish, mostly to yourself as the palace shakes around you. You all sprint out the door, running down the halls to the entrance of the palace. Bursting through the doors, you met with row after row of large metal robots, all seeming to take aim at you. You all immediately jump into battle, Adora drawing her Sword of Protection. You vaguely hear her exclaim, and there’s a glow from the corner of your eye. Glancing over from the enemy you’re about to engage, you see Adora, now She-Ra, slicing down robot after robot, showing no hesitation. It’s admirable.

Taking out your weapon, you start attacking the robot in front of you, silently cursing yourself for your lie of not knowing any magic. Battles are now always much tougher than they needed to be when you couldn’t use your own powers, and it’s something you’re still getting used to. You’re usually taking down multiple opponents at once, but now you’ve been weakened to barely being able to take on one... There’s no use in crying over it now, you decide as you nearly get hit by a blast. You need to focus on not getting hit, not thinking about- is that Adora about to get blasted?

Your head snaps to the view you’d seen in the corner of your eye: Adora with her back turned to an upcoming robot, ready to blast her. She has to hear it, right? The clacking of its mechanical legs are so loud even you can hear them, but she’s not showing any sign of turning around. Panicking slightly, you let out a shout towards her, but she’s too far away to hear you yell. You eyes flicker to anyone who could be around her to help her, but the only person close enough is Glimmer, who’s back is turned- Adora still hasn’t noticed the robot, and to your horror you realize it’s about to send a blast through her skull.

You barely comprehend your hand coming up, a dark glow encapsulating it as you concentrate on the trickle of energy coursing into your hand. Allowing the magic in your hand to intensify, you thrust your hand towards it, shooting a black stream of magic. It surrounds the robot like a coil, destroying it as you clench your fist harshly. The sound of collapsing metal alerts Adora, (Really? That’s what got her attention?) spinning around just in time to see the inky glow of the magic fade from around your hand. 

She looks at you in confusion, and it only then dawns on you what you’ve done. Quickly turning away from her, you continue your battle against the other enemies, ignoring the dread filling your stomach at the thought of talking with Adora afterwards. You could just take some time to yourself first, come up with a good explanation to why you’ve been lying to her this whole time, and it would all be fine, right? Right. 

-

“Why didn’t you tell me you could use dark magic?” Great. You’d tried to avoid Adora the best you could after everything had settled, almost immediately heading into the palace to try and find somewhere private to calm down and think. Guess you weren’t fast enough.

She doesn’t sound angry, but when you turn around you can see the tenseness in her frame. She may not be angry, but she’s certainly upset, and you don’t blame her. You stutter, trying to form a coherent sentence, but everything in your head is jumbled. Any attempts at explanation in your mind are overpowered by overlapping fearful thoughts about what she must think of you now. 

“I-I just-” you bite your lip, taking a deep breath. You slowly let it out, clearing at least some of the doubts in your head and sorting through the mess of words. She waits, eyes boring into you with an emotion you can’t quite place. “I-I thought you would hate me,” you admit finally, avoiding her gaze. “Dark magic isn’t... something people take lightly,” you vaguely remind her, rolling your shoulders back uncomfortably at the reminder.  

“So you hid it from me? The entire time we knew each other?” she emphasizes, eyebrows furrowing. She continues after a moment when you don’t respond, “Why would I hate you for using dark magic, Y/N? You.. you know I wouldn’t judge you based on something you can’t control.” The way her tone lowers in understanding makes something in your mind click; Adora didn’t choose to become She-Ra, either. Though it’s still different, you think, however similar your basic situation is, She-Ra is revered, and people like you are killed. She may understand, but she doesn’t understand.

Your hands come up to clasp together, seeking some sort of comfort from the slight edge in her tone, “That’s not how everyone thinks, Adora. I’ve met people who’ve tried to kill me just because I know dark magic. It isn’t exactly praised around here.” You pause, biting your lip, “You can’t blame me for being worried about it.” 

“That doesn’t mean that I think that way,” her tone softens, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. Using dark magic doesn’t change the fact that I care about you.” 

And then something else clicks in your head, that this is Adora. Adora your best friend, Adora your number one supporter, Adora who tries to empathize with everyone. She’s been there for you since the beginning, supporting you through every thought and decision you’ve had to make, and you her. Guilt fills you as you realize just how harshly you’ve been judging her, how little credit you’ve been giving her. You had just assumed she would be judgmental, even if that was the farthest thing from Adora. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, gaze lowering to the floor. 

You hear her sigh, stepping closer to you. She gently takes your hands in hers, “It’s okay, I get it. I just wish I had found out from you, and not from a battle, y’know?” she admits, squeezing your hands softly. You nod, raising your eyes to look at her, not expecting the small smile that greets you. Your lips quirk up similarly, grasping her hands tighter. The weight in your chest lifts. It’s okay. Things are... okay. 

You sigh softly, leaning forward to lean your head on her shoulder. She lets go of your hands in favor of sliding them around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You looked pretty cool back there,” she admits, and you can almost hear the grin in her voice, “The dark magic glow really brings out your eyes.” 

You snort quietly, hands resting on her hips as you nuzzle into the crook of her neck, “Thanks, Adora.” She hums in response. You stay there even after you’ve both gone silent, content being wrapped in each others arms for as long as you need. 

[freddiesaysalright]

Beautiful Mess Part 8

A Brian May x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader works in a bookshop. She meets Brian May and they have an instant connection. It seems to be a fairy tale romance. But, things are seldom what they seem.

Word Count: 3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @mrs-jack-murphy​, @not-john-watsons-blog​, @simmisblog​, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @thosequeenboys​, @lv7867​, @maymacca​, @rethought​, @brianslittlepet​, @jinxy93​, @stephydearestxo​, @mrcleanisthicc​, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​, @readinghorn​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @reedusteinrambles​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Some big reveals in this one! Plus, one that changes a lot. 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7 

Part 8 here we go!!!

Richard took another deep breath.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t talk about this tonight,” he said. “You’ve been through so much. And this...this will upset you.”

“I’m upsetting you too,” you pointed out.

“I wasn’t the one with the gun to my head,” he returned.

“Richard, I’m fine, just tell me,” you insisted.

He opened his mouth, but at that moment, a nurse poked her head in.

“Miss Y/L/N?” she said. “Mr. May’s been asking after you.”

“You should go to him,” Richard said. “We can talk later.”

“I -”

“Y/N, he needs you,” he said. “And you need him.”

You nodded. “Just to be clear...the engagement is off?”

“The engagement is off,” he confirmed. “We’re both better off for it.” 

Strangeness settled over you. You were not engaged to Richard anymore. And yet, for years, it had been your default. You’d spent most of your life engaged to him. A swirling of relief, with a touch of sadness entered your chest. You weren’t entirely sure how you should feel. You cared deeply for Richard, and you certainly never wanted the Kimballs out of your life. Your question now was - would they still want you in theirs?

“I’ll walk with you to his room,” Richard said.

He slipped his arm around your shoulders and you both followed the nurse to Brian’s room. You saw through the window that they were just finishing up his stitches. Richard turned to you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll leave you now,” he said. “Come early for Sunday dinner so we can talk.”

“Okay,” you said.

You were nervous and you couldn’t place why.

“Don’t feel guilty, Y/N,” Richard said.

That was it. Wow, he knew you well. It made sense though.

“I can’t help it,” you returned. “This was all my fault and now he’s hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” he argued. “It’s that stupid man’s fault.”

“He really was sort of stupid, wasn’t he?” you said with a small smile.

“Wile E Coyote plans better than him,” he agreed. “But you’re stalling. Get in there.”

You chuckled. “Alright. Thank you, Richard.” You took his hand and squeezed it. “For everything.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

With one last smile, he left. You took a deep breath to gather your courage. Then, you pushed the door open. The band all turned eyes on you. Roger actually got to his feet, glowering at you.

“Haven’t you done enough?” he questioned.

That stung. It was so harsh, you nearly backed out of the room. Brian was quick to rebuke him.

“Roger!” Brian said. “This isn’t her fault.”

Roger rolled his eyes and flopped back down into his chair. You blinked back tears and approached Brian. He held out his hand to you and you took it. Then, he yanked you into a hug. You gasped softly as he pulled you into his chest, to stand between his legs which dangled off the exam table. His arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders and he buried his face in your neck. You settled against him with a happy hum. 

“How are you feeling?” you whispered.

“Tired,” he answered.

Tears began to sting your eyes once more. For a brief moment, you thought you’d never feel his arms around you again. You thought you’d never smell him again or feel his heartbeat in his chest. You thought you’d never again feel how much he loved you. Well, you were certainly not going to take it for granted now.

“I’m not marrying Richard,” you choked out. 

He pulled away and looked at your face, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head before pressing his hand into your skin even more with your own hand. “I’m not. I only want to be with you, Brian.”

“But what about all the things you said?” he wondered. “Everything they’ve done for you?”

“I’m very grateful for Richard and his family,” you said simply. “But none of it matters as much as you do.”

A few tears slid down your cheeks. You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. You were so touched by his easy forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, Brian,” you sobbed. “I’m so sorry for everything. For lying to you, for letting this happen to you, for hurting you. God, I’m so, so sorry.”

He held you closer. Then he tilted his chin up and kissed you lightly. All doubt about your decision disappeared at the brush of his lips against yours. This was exactly where you were meant to be - in Brian May’s arms.

The doctor finished, but you hardly heard what he said. Brian turned and paid attention, but your eyes remained fixed on his face. Without the cloud of your engagement over you, you didn’t need to etch those fine features into your memory to hold on to for when you and Brian were no longer together. Now, you looked at him because you could. This was the face you would wake up next to for the rest of your life. The face you saw each time you closed your eyes and thought about love.

You and Brian were discharged from the hospital, and walked out hand in hand. The band followed behind, and you could still feel some animosity from Roger. You hoped he would come around, but the most important thing was that you had Brian. Now and forever.

John drove you back to your flat. You and Brian climbed out of the car, thanked them, and then headed toward the front door. A lump appeared in your throat when you saw who was waiting for you. Cat sat at the door like a sentry, tail swishing and eyes blinking up at you. He meowed softly as if to say “What took you so long?” 

“Cat!” you sighed with relief, kneeling down and opening your arms to him. He ran right into them, nuzzling against your face and purring softly. “You were so brave, my little boy.”

Brian chuckled. “Cat is the real hero, apparently.”

“He is,” you insisted, opening the door. You explained what Cat had done after Brian was already released.

“Wow, he is a hero,” Brian said, patting Cat’s head. “Well done, mate. Thanks for looking out.”

Cat mewled quietly in response. You set him down and went to the kitchen, where you prepared a bowl of food for him. He chirped gratefully and started eating. You looked at Brian.

“D’you wanna go lie down?” you asked.

“So much,” he replied.

He followed you into your bedroom. You helped him undress down to his boxers, minding his arm, which was still very sore, despite the pain medication he’d received. You changed into a soft nightie and then you both curled up under your covers. Brian took you under his good arm and you rested against his chest.

“I don’t think I can sleep,” he said.

“Me neither,” you agreed.

As exhausted as you were, a fear lingered in the back of your mind about being taken by surprise again.

“Did you lock the door?” Brian asked.

You thought back. “No, I don’t think so. Come with me?”

He nodded. Together, you went to the front door and you saw the deadbolt was unlocked. You turned it. Then Brian pressed his lips to the exposed skin of your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight.

“Feel okay?” he asked.

“Not really,” you returned. “I don’t know how I’ll ever feel safe again.”

“Don’t worry, dove,” he assured you. “We’ll get through this together.”

You returned to bed, settling down at last. Cat joined you and curled up at your feet, falling asleep almost instantly.

“I envy him,” you joked.

“Me too,” Brian agreed. “But since we’re not sleeping, can I ask you for the full story of you and Richard? I feel like there’s still so much I don’t know.”

“You can ask me for anything, baby,” you answered. “The story is quite long. Are you sure you want to hear about it tonight? We can just rest if you like.”

“No, I want to hear,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, taking a deep breath. “My father and Charlie were best friends. War comrades. And so, after the war was over, Charlie started his business, and my father started the bookshop. Business went okay for us, but Charlie flourished. He was born to be in business. He made a lot of money and he made it fast. Richard and I were born and they always joked that one day we would marry. And then they made it official when Richard turned thirteen.”

“Are you saying your marriage was arranged?” Brian questioned.

You nodded.

“I didn’t realize that sort of thing still happened,” he said.

“It does for rich people,” you returned. “Anyway, so we were told. But we were kids, all of that seemed really far off. We didn’t care, really, and we were best friends. It seemed like it wasn’t a bad idea. Then, Mum got ill.”

You swallowed. This part was still difficult to talk about.

“Dad practically abandoned the shop, and all our savings went to her treatments. But nothing worked. We were out of money and out of options. So, Charlie bought the shop and allowed my father to keep running it under the new ownership. But that wasn’t enough to save her.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” you replied with a sniffle. “Mum died, and Dad completely lost it. All the money he had left over from Charlie buying the store was blown on drugs and alcohol. He did whatever he could to numb the pain of losing her. Meanwhile, Susan and Charlie made sure I was fed, clothed, and sent to school. Richard was my rock through all of it.”

You wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Then Dad went,” you continued. “I was so alone and scared. There was no money left over for me, and I thought that I was going to be hauled off to an orphanage or something. But, Charlie was my legal guardian according to my parents’ wishes, so he took me in and he and Susan raised me.

“As teenagers, Richard and I tried being boyfriend and girlfriend. It seemed odd to be engaged before dating, but that was just the world we were in. We tried kissing and all that. We were even each other’s first time, but there was never anything romantic between us. When he went away to uni, we agreed to give up trying to be a couple. He had my permission to go and enjoy it however he wanted, and I was free to do the same, even though I wasn’t going to school. We’d be faithful to each other when we were real grown ups.”

Brian chuckled at that and you smiled.

“So, when he graduated, I was already given the shop, but we were announced as engaged to their whole society,” you explained. “The general public didn’t know or anything, and that was fine by me. I got the shop back on its feet, and I felt like life would be normal soon. I’d marry Richard once he inherited everything and then we’d have babies and that would be my life. I never thought I’d actually find someone I loved.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“A few reasons,” you answered. “First, I didn’t think you’d understand. Second, I had no intention of leaving Richard. I thought this would be a fling I could look back on one day and just remember fondly. Even though I love you, I thought we could never have a future.”

“And tonight changed that?”

“Tonight changed everything,” you said. “I thought one or both of us might die. It made me realize that I don’t want to waste my life. It’s too precious. I want to live fully and be happy. I want to be with you.”

“And you’re prepared to give everything up...that life you might have had...for me?” he wondered.

“Honestly, Brian,” you said. “It’s for me. Liberating myself from that meant I was making myself happy. That comes with being with you.”

Confessing everything to him felt good. It was clarifying and freeing. Like the sun bursting through the clouds after a storm. You could finally just shine.

You talked for a while longer, answering any remaining questions he had and working through your emotions after the grueling night. Finally, just as the sun was peeking through the windows, you fell asleep together. Exhaustion had overcome you at last.

The next few days passed this way. Holed up in your flat, ordering food to be delivered, and sleeping. Several times, the sleep was not restful, as you and Brian were prone to nightmares. The pain in Brian’s arm would also wake him at odd hours, and you would help him with his mediation or massage his arm around the wound. There was a lot you were recovering from. But, as Brian said, you were doing it together. 

It took a couple days before you were able to have sex again. It happened one night after you had a nightmare. Brian woke you but you were crying heavily. He kissed your tears away and when he met your lips, it was over. You asked him to make you forget, and he delivered, making love to you slowly and passionately. It was all hot breath and heavy hands and leisurely kisses. Afterward, you were able to have sex more frequently, which was always amazing. You were careful of Brian’s arm though, so you never got too rough. Besides, you both needed softness now.

On Saturday, your phone rang while you and Brian were still in bed. You groaned, rolled over, and answered wearily.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Richard.”

“Oh, good morning,” you replied. “D’you know what time it is?”

“It’s ten,” he said. “Are you still in bed?”

“I didn’t ask for your judgement,” you retorted.

He chuckled. “Look, can I come over for a while? I think it’s time we talked.”

“What happened to me coming over early tomorrow?” you wondered.

“Change of plan,” he said. “I’ll explain everything when I get there.”

“Yes, alright, come over,” you agreed.

You really were curious to hear what Richard had to say. Who had he been unfaithful with? And what was the story there? Had he hidden it from his mother and father? You wanted to know all of it.

“I’ll be there in five,” he confirmed.

You said goodbye and hung up. Brian shifted beside you and draped an arm over your waist.

“S’that?” he wondered.

“Richard,” you replied. 

You explained that he was coming over to discuss his own affair. You told Brian about Richard’s behavior at the hospital, and he agreed that you should hear your ex-fiance out. Clearly, something else needed to be said.

Slowly, you and Brian dressed and went out to make tea and feed Cat. It was only moments before there was a knock on the door, and you answered it. There stood Richard, looking uncharacteristically emotional.

“Hi,” he said. “May I come in?”

“Course,” you told him, opening the door wider and allowing him past you.

He walked into the living room. Brian was sitting on the couch, playing with Cat. The two men looked at each other.

“Good to see you’re healing,” Richard said. 

“Thanks,” Brian replied stiffly. “I...I, uh…”

“We don’t need to make this awkward,” Richard assured him. “I have no hard feelings toward you or Y/N. I think it would be great if we could all be friends.”

Brian smiled. “Me too.”

They shook hands. Feeling warm, you took a seat next to Brian and looked at Richard, who sat in a chair opposite you.

“Well, I’ve told Mama and Dad that we’ve ended the engagement, and I’ve told them why,” he began. “Naturally, they’re quite upset, so Sunday dinner is cancelled until further notice.”

Your heart sunk. 

“They’re angry at me, aren’t they?” you said, voice small.

“Actually, they’re angrier with me,” he replied. “They feel that my affair was the real reason we won’t be getting married.”

“How is that fair?” you wondered. “We both met someone else, it’s the same offense.”

“It’s not really the same,” he said.

“How?”

“Because mine was also with a man.”

You blinked as the air was punched out of your lungs. Richard held your gaze as you collected yourself.

“Wh-who is he?” you asked, clearing your throat.

He looked away now, picking at his fingernails. “Well, you see...it wasn’t...it wasn’t just one man. I’ve been - well, I’ve been around.”

You studied his face. His mouth was twisted down. His eyes were watery and red. His knee bounced anxiously. He had never been so afraid to tell you something.

“Rich, I don’t care if you’re gay,” you said. “You’re still my best friend and one of my favorite people in the whole world. It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not all,” he said, and you heard the crack in his voice.

You didn’t know how much more you could take. But there had to much something more for Richard to be getting this worked up.

“Should I…?” Brian wondered, starting to stand up.

“No, if Y/N trusts you then I do as well,” Richard said, shaking his head. “But this cannot leave this room.”

“Of course,” you assured him. “Rich, what is it?”

“I’ve not only been unfaithful,” he began. “I’ve been extremely reckless and irresponsible. And now I…” He took a moment to take a breath. “I’m paying dearly for it.”

Your stomach was twisted up in knots from worry. What did all of this mean?

“Paying dearly?” you wondered.

“You see, Y/N, my parents are angry with me not because I won’t be marrying you,” he said. “I won’t be marrying anyone at all. Ever.”

“Oh, no…” Brian said under his breath.

You looked at him. You saw the concern and pity on his face before turning back to Richard.

“I don’t understand,” you said. 

“I’m dying, Y/N,” Richard said. “I’ve got AIDS.”

[elliemarchetti]

The Scam (part 3)

Previous chapters

Words: 1453

Breakfast was nothing special: Mare was escorted to the women's room wearing Gisa’s umpteenth creation made following Cal’s advices, and found waiting for her only the queen and the Queenstrial’s favorite, a hateful and snob girl that even Elara didn’t seem to like that much. As Cal had predicted, she was invited to take part in the gala lunch and if that morning, although reluctantly, she felt foolish, wandering around the city covered in lace, she was now grateful that she had worn something that launched an incredibly specific message: she was a noblewoman old enough to get engaged but too young to marry. Moreover, although she immediately hated her etiquette teacher and after the first lesson, which lasted three and a half hours because, according to Cal, a noble who hasn’t yet been presented in society has no more important commitment or greater desire than to please the royals, she had returned home with back pain for posture lessons on how to sit, stand, walk and even sleep -even though she was sure she would never have slept if she laid on her back with her arms stiff at her sides- she had to admit that they hadn't been completely useless, especially the part about court rules -who would’ve thought there was a specific order for walking!- and on the various names; she was slowly beginning to understand the hierarchy between the various families and yet she was sure that she would make a mess anyway. Talking about her “father’s family” history was easy since nobody wanted to remember the insurrection that occurred during the reign of Caesar II, nor how the Titanos family had to rise from their ashes during the reign of Julias II and III, therefore Mare had been able to know very little about what had happened before 151 N.E. but if the topic shifted to the Nolles the situation became more complicated and with Cal’s family was nearly impossible to don't get confused and mix all the names in an explosive cocktail for her scam. Of course some slips in the first period would’ve been forgiven, after all it would’ve made sense if she hadn't been updated on the Silver affairs, given where she had grown up, but it would’ve made her unsuitable to reign when, although she never would’ve sitting on the throne, she and Cal had to convince everyone otherwise, which was reminded her on the glass terrace where the lunch was held, on the lower floor than the women’s room, at the end of the longest corridor she ever seen. Once she crossed the threshold Mare was hit by a fresh breeze; with the hot sun on her face, if only he could’ve closed her eyes, he could’ve pretended that she had never accepted Cal's proposal and that she was again only Mare and not Mareena but it wasn't like that and the decorations, all purple and silver, were enough to remind her. So really that would’ve been the day of her debut. How many things would’ve changed? Many. Too many, a small voice coming from the bottom of her heart corrected her, which she stifled promptly, trying to concentrate on the glass roof that refracted the sunlight in a rainbow of colors that danced combined with the guests’ clothes, supported by transparent columns masterfully carved and decorated with silver bows. Gisa would’ve been over the moon there and her heart ached at the thought that she would never be able to see it in its full splendor. But perhaps it was better that way: she didn't want her surrounded by Silvers, not after what had happened in Summerton, it didn't matter that Cal had solved the situation because it didn't erase what had been done to her. The Silvers, unlike the Reds, were used to not having to suffer the consequences of their actions and to forget them when someone else remedied them but even if she had to pretend, and he would’ve to do it all her life, Mare wouldn’t have become like them. Silver in the mind, Red in the heart. In that period of visits to the palace it was something she had often repeated herself.

"There aren't many places like this where you come from, I guess." said a female voice that made her jump. It was a girl in a dark blue and red dress, that placed her in the Iral family, who spoke, sporting a fake and cold smile, although behind the mask a pride that not all of them sported was clearly visible, which made her an obstacle for her plan and a danger for her safety. If she was even a bit ruthless like Evangeline she had to find a way to eliminate her, just like her friend, a shadow of house Haven, judging by the black dress, with pale skin and bright red hair braided in a crown. Yes, if she had been forced to participate in the Queenstrial they must’ve been out of the game.

"It’s certainly a pleasant welcome." Mare commented, showing off in turn a sharp smile that she hoped was enough to hide her suspicious gaze.

"Kind of you to notice my little thought." commented the queen behind her. The two girls bowed deeply but Elara didn’t look at them: she wanted that it was she who accompanied her on stage for the official announcement, so Mare followed her and stopped next to Cal.

"We all remember our beacon of hope in the darkness brought by war, our captain and friend, General Ethan Titanos." the king began, speaking to the crowd. A moved buzz arose in the room and even house Samos’ patriarch bowed his head in respect.

"He led the Iron Legion to victory and pushed back the enemy lines that had endured for nearly a century. The Lakelanders feared him, our soldiers loved him," continued Elara, and although Mare doubted highly that a Red soldier could love his own General Silver she would grant the dead man who they wanted to pass off as her father the benefit of the doubt.

"The Lakelands spies murdered our dear friend, sneaked among us and trampled on the only hope for peace we had." resumed the king, another lie that Mare had managed to unmask as soon as she had access to some more reliable source than the Reds’ history books as it was evident that the war continued only as a method of population control. Although that information was public domain among the Silvers, if someone had questioned the topic to such an extent that they could connect the dots and see the general design they hadn’t bothered to put an end to it, also because it certainly doesn’t concerned their people. Or, and that was a completely different option, which made the royalty much more dangerous than she had calculated before agreeing to help Cal, the Calores were willing to get rid of their opponents even if they were their people. Seeing it from that point of view it was difficult to imagine that the Lakelanders were suddenly able to penetrate the impenetrable defenses of a Silver general and simpler to suppose that the royal family wanted to get rid of a sharp mind that, over time, would’ve managed to put an end to that farce. But also to kill his wife, an innocent woman, in order to achieve their goal? No Silver was really innocent and their own knew it well. Not that it made any difference to her: the king's poignant words about the dead Titanos benefited her and the queen's feigned tears only validated her cause in front of the Queenstrial girls and their families.

"My friends, we are delighted to welcome Mareena Titanos, daughter of Ethan Titanos and Nora Nolle.”

Those present forcedly applauded and Cal took her hand. It was just a small sacrifice, giving up on herself to save her family. The king told the twist of her dramatic story built by her and Cal then announced that he intended to reward her father and her family for the enormous contribution made to their kingdom by announcing the union of their families. At that point, Mare turned pale: they couldn’t have gone so far, not so fast, but a quick glance at Cal, stretched like a violin string, told her that she was wrong, that she shouldn’t have taken that chance so lightly. So Cal spoke the ritual words, which must have been taught him when he was still a child and Mare couldn’t help but accept, slamming the rest of her life out the door when she was introduced as the future queen of Norta, the first, and probably last, Red queen.

[inikavulpixelreviews]

New Game Special: Let’s Talk About Pokemon - Sword and Shield

Just as a warning, this thinkpiece WILL contain minor to major spoilers of the newest games.

So. Sword and Shield, huh?

While the Pokemon reviews themselves might not be starting for a while just yet, I think these games and the little discourse that comes with them warrants a little “introductory” thinkpiece to drop my thoughts and hot takes out there. I've played all the way through Sword, beaten its postgame epilogue, and am currently working on a Living Galardex.

Honestly? As flawed as it is, this is the most fun I've had with Pokemon since Black and White. No way I would call it better than BW, or even my second-favorite game HGSS. But it was far more engaging than the Gen 6 games and its ideas felt like a far better way to “revitalize what is familiar” than Sun and Moon did. The Wild Area is a wonderful addition I want to see expanded on tremendously in future games. And I mean like. Almost every route should be a miniature Wild Area in and of itself.

So yeah, I've had a lot of fun with it. It's not entirely scratched the itch that I've been feeling about the Pokemon series taking a serious overhaul to its mechanics (more on that in a bit). And like I said, its flaws are very apparent. Graphically it's still not caught up to modern games, and it's still very much a Pokemon game anchored down by conventions that have been with the series since the very start. And online interactions leave a lot to be desired. The story is back to a much more simple structure, which is a shame since there's a handful of really good characters present between Bede, Hop, and even the game’s main villains that all had a lot of potential. I would love to see them in a story that was handled with the same finesse as Black and White.

But in the end? I did enjoy it quite a bit. A solid 7/10 from me. But with the little micro-review done and over with, we're gonna move onto the two bigger points I'd like to drop my thoughts on.

The Pokemon Themselves:

I mean, what else would it have been?

While Gen 8 is one I wouldn't say is in my top two favorites or anything, it's still very solid and has a lot of fun Pokemon within it. Without giving a ton away, and since I've posted this publicly already, here's a first brush tier list of what I think of em. Though Gigantamax form are missing obviously, and some Pokemon are just not here. For some reason, it's hard to find one of these tier lists with all the new Pokemon on it. Just know that Skwovet and Greedent are around C-range and Galarian Stunfisk, Darumaka, and Darmanitan would be in A.

These can change with time of course, there's quite a few Pokemon that my opinion has changed on once I've examined their design more closely. Yeah, leaning a lot more into the positive! I think Gen 7 edges out just BAAARELY ahead, but 3rd place behind the greatness of Gens 5 and 7 is not bad at all! All that really holds it back are some lackluster cover-legendaries and, tragically, the lack of any new Ultra Beasts.

Figuring out an order to cover these in is gonna be a thing. I'd rather cover new the lines in their entirety, but because some new Regional Variants evolve into entirely new Pokemon, it's puzzling to figure out where they aughta go! In the end, I might go in the order of covering Regionals with no relation to new Pokemon first, then Gigantamax forms, then go through the 810 to 890 in order, plus whatever Galarian forms are related to new Pokemon when they come around.

I’d still say reviews will likely not start until 2020. I’d obviously wanna wait until the official artwork of all the Pokemon in a decent resolution would be available, plus I’d like to put a bit of extra oomph into these reviews. I’ll save what exactly I mean by that for when I start the Gen 8 reviews proper.

But of course, Sword and Shield isn't all sunshine and rainbows. As I'm sure any Pokemon fan has heard, in the middle of this very year, Junichi Masuda himself came out on E3 with the very unfortunate announcement that Sword and Shield will be the first games in the series' long run to not feature every single Pokemon. And indeed, that this will very likely be the standard for all Pokemon games going forward, electing to chose different Pokemon that are best suited to the theme of the region, and all others will be completely incompatible. Fans didn't take this news lightly, to say the least.

And I've thought about it long and hard on my own time, occasionally listening to what others had to say about the matter. Which of course, brings me, the person who mind you hasn't bothered trading their team to the most recent games in a LONG time BUT also had their top favorite Pokemon of all time axed from the Galardex, to my own hot take, gulp:

How badly do we really need the National Dex?

Okay, before I get into it any further than that, I wanna preface this by saying if you're one of the people that are genuinely upset about the National Dex cut, I understand. If you don't think Sword and Shield are worth buying because of the National Dex cut, it's your money to do with what you please. If you think Pokemon from this point forward won't be worth playing anymore due to the possibility that it will never feature every single Pokemon ever again, I totally get it. I'd be a fool to deny that there's a lot to be upset with Gamefreak with at the moment. But I will rather boldly make the statement that, after all the consideration I've done over the last few months, the Nation Dex has been a long-running mistake that should've never happened and the very concept of having every single Pokemon in every single game should've died when Gen 2 ended.

While I have taken its presence much for granted over the years, since it had been such a matter-of-fact thing. Of course every Pokemon would be in every game, why wouldn't they be? Turns out, Gamefreak's insistence on making sure all Pokemon are present for every game could very well be a root for a good chunk of the series' problems, both in the long run and recent.

Implementing the entire Pokedex, for one, is a huge waste of resources and time. People have already proven that putting in the Pokemon themselves doesn't take too long; modders have already stuck their favorites not in SwSh into the games and they are more or less fully functioning (albeit with the need to program your own moves and stats onto them). But to take that as evidence that maintaining the Nat. Dex shouldn't be a problem would be fairly disingenuous. For every single Pokemon, form, ability, move, and whatnot that they add to the game adds to an ever-inflating problem in terms of Pokemon's scope. With how many combinations of Pokemon, moves, abilities, and held items there are, I can only imagine that making sure no catastrophic game-breaking bug is going to happen in-battle due to an extremely and stupidly specific interaction is a QA nightmare that eats up far more of the work force’s time and energy that could be better spent... literally anywhere else.

And all this for what? So that a small and ever-shrinking minority of the fanbase can fulfill the increasingly difficult if not outright impossible dream of catching them all. Especially given how many of said Pokemon are only obtainable during a limited time. Not to mention how you are required to own multiple games to catch them all at this point. And there's obviously FAR too many to reasonably pile into a single region. The other side of that particular coin is the opposite; the people that usually only bring over anywhere between 2-16 favorites. Even that, as much as it is understandable to be upset that Cacturne's biggest fan won't be able to have their favorite Pokemon in the newest game at all, is so much commitment to a relatively tiny part of the game.

...Which is a real shame, since the very existence of the Nat. Dex has only encouraged the deep rut of series stagnation the franchise has suffered. Most if not all other major RPG franchises have had the room to experiment and do major mechanical overhauls because they never have to worry about whether or not the most recent title is reliably compatible with previous entries in their respective series. Because Gamefreak has been so insistent that every Pokemon, move, ability, and item has to be present in all future games, it's lead to a bigger issue in ensuring that everything functions the same way it did in previous games (barring tiny changes made to numbers more than anything). Meaning even the most recent games in the series have been bound to game design decisions made in 1996 on the goddamn Gameboy. Because of Gamefreak adamantly making sure EVERYTHING can function in future games now and forever, the franchise has not been given the room it needs to properly evolve or have a major update to its battle mechanics. For every new major mechanic that's added to the game, they would have to go back and ensure that it works with EVERY Pokemon, their alternate forms, and whatever moves they all may learn. And all the other major mechanical features in the battles. Is it any wonder that it was only twice that an entirely new feature was added that drastically changed the way battles played out? Only twice! Once when Held Items were introduced in Gen 2 and again when Abilities were introduced in Gen 3. There's been other, comparatively tiny updates here and there (The physical/special split in Gen 4, The streamlining of the battle system and the Pokemon themselves finally being animated in Gen 5, etc.) Is it any wonder Mega Evolution only effected a select handful of Pokemon? Or that Z-moves were a feature that affected moves more than they did the Pokemon themselves?

If you chop down the number of Pokemon to say, 400 or so per game, it would be considerably more reasonable to experiment with each new title. It's disappointing that this couldn't be evident in SwSh itself (though I would attribute a lot of that game's problems to questionable mid-development decisions). I personally would just hope the backlash has them listening to the criticism but not take it so much to heart that they backpedal entirely. Otherwise we'll just wind up neck-deep in the first problem again. I really want them to commit to this because it feels like there's a golden opportunity to make a truly modernized Pokemon game.

(A bit of a side-note, but I’m also noticing that now that the Pokedex is down to a much more reasonable number, a lot of people, myself included, are actually attempting to complete Galar’s Pokedex.)

NOT TO MENTION that it'll free up opportunity to make more new Pokemon. A lot of the reason recent gens have slowed down in Pokemon numbers is simply because the the National Dex was getting too big. Now that there's no more National Dex, perhaps we can start having generations of 100+ Pokemon again? In fact, I think SwSh would've been all the better had they pulled another Gen 5 in conjunction with the natdex offing to say that Sword and Shield will ONLY have 200 or so ENTIRELY new Pokemon, and not a single returning one. Fans would've still gotten upset, but the prospect of a game with ONLY new ones in the form of a soft reboot would've gotten people excited to see a sizable generation again. It'd also have shown a bigger commitment to making up for the lack of a National Dex, even before large gameplay changes would be made. (Although again, who knows how plausible that would've been given the implications SwSh had a rocky development)

Could Gamefreak have handled this mess better? Absolutely. I love what y’all do but I’ll give brutal honesty when I feel it’s warranted; they have been ultra trash about communicating with the fans correctly. Between citing “to make high-quality animations” as a reason for the Dex cutting as if you wouldn’t have expected every single animation in the game to be under heavy scrutiny as soon as you said so. Plus rather tone-deaf responses to the backlash. Something that should’ve been communicated was a reaffirmation that this decision was made for the betterment of the series’ longevity, and that it’s a choice that would make the series better in the long run (Even then though, that sounds like admitting SwSh aren’t as good as they could’ve been. And I doubt PTC would ever let anyone at Gamefreak say anything like that.)

This next point is just a personal one more than anything, but it’s a lot better of a solution than the other thing I was fearful might happen at some point: a hard reboot on the National dex. As in, most if not ALL Pokemon get permanently booted from the series and they start over, only keeping a select few. At least with this, so long as they prioritize Pokemon that haven’t been featured in a regional dex in while, I’m all for it. Friggin CHARIZARD aside, the Galar Dex feels like it has a healthy balance of fan favorites and niche Pokemon as far as returning ones go, which is good.

And of course, the Nat Dex isn't the ONLY problems in the Pokemon franchise. For one thing, I'd love it if this annual release schedule just stopped right the hell now. It's hardly a secret that crunchtime because of Pokemon game development is a huge problem at Gamefreak, all because of decisions most likely made by Nintendo and The Pokemon Company, though I'm sure some blame can be shafted on GF upper management as well. It's literally as easy as making the supplemental media stop being so caught up in doing the exact same thing the main series is doing. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the recent anime arc being “Globetrotting with Ash” is a move to distance the anime away from the games so the two don't have to be so coincided at all times. Like, Pokemon can literally do anything and make money off it. Why arbitrarily chain down the main series to a tight one-generation-every-3-years deadline.

Also Gamefreak REALLY needs to expand its workforce. There's evidently only 150 or so employees who natively work for Gamefreak, in which they have to rely on a lot of freelance work. Even so, that's a tiny work force to be working on a game that should be, by all accounts, treated with Triple-A game quality.

And again, let me just say that as much as I genuinely believe that the removal of the National Dex will be better for the series in the long term, nobody is wrong for being upset about it, and nobody is wrong for deciding they don't see the games as worth buying anymore. It's not your fault that Gamefreak made a promise to all of its players that they wouldn't be able to keep forever. And it’s certainly understandable to be upset given the very marketing has trained us to get very emotionally invested in these fictional animals. Like, as much as I saw this day coming, my first gut reaction upon hearing the news was genuine shock. And a slight tinge of disgust that Zorua, my top favorite of all time, could very well not be in the first home console main Pokemon games. At least until I realized “oh wait, I limit myself to only using new Pokemon anyway.”

And obviously this is by no means a guarantee that Gen 9's games will feature massively sweeping changes that fix all the shortcomings of the battle mechanics and will feature the vast Breath of the Wild-esque open world experience that fans have been clamoring for and 250 new Pokemon (plus 75 regional variants!). Gamefreak has been conservative enough about Pokemon to have landed themselves in this problem in the first place. Just forgive me if I hold onto even just a little bit of cautious optimism for the next games.

[paul-tudor-owen]

The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen – reviews

My novel The Weighing of the Heart was nominated for the Guardian Not the Booker Prize. Here are some of the reviews from people who kindly voted for it.

You can buy the book here.

Beth Parry

Vote 1: Paul Tudor Owen, The Weighing of the Heart

Funny, moving and captivating all at once; a beautiful enactment of the unusual adventures that materialise from seemingly ordinary twists and turns in life. Owen is a brilliant observer of people and their deepest instincts.

Lualabear 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen

- This story of obsession, crime and mystery pulls you along with its fast-paced plot and unexpected twists and clever ending. The book has sparked an ongoing debate between me and my partner, which is a good sign of a successful book. Is the protagonist Nick a reliable narrator? Is it Nick who is leading Lydia or the other way round? Do people in the Big Apple really eat out so much?

Tudor Owen has a distinctive voice and throughout he conjours up a compelling vision of New York. He is clearly a writer who knows and loves the city and it shines through in this confident debut.

Plus it has characters called the Peacock sisters. What's not to like?

Christina456 

VOTE 1:

Paul Tudor Owen: The Weighing of the Heart

A love story with a twist, set in NYC, beautifully written. Wonderful debut novel, real page turner, that I thoroughly enjoyed. I learned a lot about ancient Egyptian mythology and loved the mood, the characters and the New York feeling the book conveys. 

davegat 

Vote 1 - Paul Tudor Owen - The Weighing of the Heart

I read TWOTH in a single sitting - I found the plot so intriguing and the central character so engaging that, clichéd as this sounds, I couldn't put it down. As this Auster-esque tale unfolded, I began to question a lot of what I’d initially taken for granted about Nick Braeburn, the aptly (and appley) named Englishman struggling for success in the Big Apple, and needed to read parts of it twice. This stunning debut novel has much to recommend it, but something I particularly liked was the research the author had done into ancient Egyptian art, which took me back to childhood visits to the museum in Manchester - the hometown that Nick, Paul and I all left behind.

ID9836338

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart, by Paul Tudor Owen

A great debut novel by an author who's managed to bring a lot of different threads in to one short but gripping story. New York comes to life in a way I've not experienced before and the readers relationship with the protagonist is as curious as the plot he leads. A wonderful read.

Carolinechatwin

VOTE 1: Paul Tudor Owen: the weighing of the heart.

Owen’s debut novel pushes all the right buttons. The characters are well drawn and the author makes effective use of anecdotes from the protagonist’s life to draw the reader in and keep them interested. What begins as a light hearted romance set against the backdrop of NYC, ends as something darker and more troubling. I stumbled across it my accident in an Islington local bookshop and read it in one sitting. Recommended!

Wutheredangel 

1. The weighing of the heart by Paul Tudor Owen is a haunting and unusual exploration of the psyche of a young man in New York. It’s a psychological love story with a dark side. But at the same time it’s funny, engagingly readable, and brimming with enthusiasm for the New York lifestyle.

MariCarmen89 

Vote 1 - The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen. The plot was so gripping that I read the whole book in 2 days. Bringing together the art world, ancient mythology, a deep love and admiration for New York City and all it represents, complex literary techniques and engaging dialogue, this debut novel is a must-read!

Metropolitan247 

Vote 2- Weighing of the Heart - Paul Tudor Owen - great insight into New York!

Ankahu 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen. Fabulous debut novel! Was immersed in the intriguing storyline. Loved the ancient Egyptian mythology which interweaves with the modern day New York the characters inhabit. You walk the streets of New York with the protagonist and really want things to work out for him. Excited to read more by this author.

Ahh6356 

VOTE 1 - The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen (Obliterati Press)

Review of the Weighing of the Heart

This book draws in the reader from the start and keeps the pace throughout. The author cleverly reveals more about his main character as the story progresses, while keeping you guessing until the end. Characters are very well drawn and the descriptions of New York make it easy to picture the surroundings. The story combines crime, mystery and humour and is a great read.

JenniferJuan 

Vote 1

The Weighing Of The Heart by Paul Tudor Owen

It's difficult to believe that this is the author's first novel sometimes. He does a great job of bringing New York to wherever the reader is, and helping them to fall in love with it, the way that he has. There is clearly a lot of passion that has gone into this book, and it is a fresh take on the clasdic New Yorker novel.

LyndseyR23 

My vote is for Paul Tudor Owen – The Weighing of the Heart (Obliterati Press) I was captivated by the authors rich descriptions of New York, the tenuous relationship between the two main characters and the Ancient Egyptian motifs that occur throughout. Owen does a brilliant job of, little by little, offering deeper glimpses into the mind of the protagonist - Nick Braeburn - and effortlessly distorts reality as Braeburn begins to unravel. Compelling and original writing from a truly promising author.

KevRichardson 

Vote 1. The Weighing Of The Heart by Paul Tudor Owen

A unique, New York set thriller-cum-romance-cum-art heist novel about a young Englishman who rents a room from elderly, wealthy New Yorker sisters ,and persuades a Portuguese woman who is renting another room to help him steal a priceless piece of art from them. Very much in the traditional of classic New Yorker novels and highly recommended.

Anna Helen Pickering 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart, Paul Tudor Owen

The Weighing of the Heart is a love story and a mystery. Lightly comical in parts its grip increases as the story progresses and the lives of the initially-aloof characters become more and more entwined. The descriptions of place and people are evocative and sweep you into the New York world of the characters, making us wonder if we would do the same thing if the opportunity presented itself.

NotJohnWayne 

VOTE #1: "The Weighing of the Heart."

A classy, stylish novel about love, crime, art and madness. Gripped me from the first sentence and I honestly couldn't put it down.

2raggedclaws 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen.

The story of deviant artist Nick Braeburn and his pursuit of his desires amidst the old money of New York's Upper East Side had me gripped instantly. This is a shockingly assured first novel; funny, thrilling and hallucinatory, with echoes of the most enjoyable elements of Highsmith and Dostoyevsky. I didn't come away trusting Nick, or wanting him anywhere near my life, but I deeply missed inhabiting his world. I couldn't ask for more in a book.

RachelELane 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart, by Paul Tudor Owen.

Review of The Weighing of the Heart: Set in New York, and told through the narration of main character Nick Braeburn, Paul Tudor Owen weaves an impressive tale of New York possibilities, Ancient Egyptian art, and a passionate but fragile love affair. Emboldened by a seemingly straightforward opportunity to improve their lot, Nick and artist, Lydia, commit a crime that all at once realises their desires and triggers the steady crumbling of everything, including their relationship and perception of what's real.

This book is written so authentically, and pulls you in so completely, that it becomes almost oppressive, and despite it being a compelling page-turner, I had to put it down and walk away at one point because I was too stressed with how things were unfolding. To elicit that response from a reader in a debut novel is talent indeed, and I eagerly await the next offering from Paul Tudor Owen. A fabulous read.

Ellelong1 

My first vote is for The Weighing of the Heart.

I loved being swept away to New York, its excitement and thrill and darker undercurrents. The narrator is a brilliant addition to the literary strand of outsiders who’ve told their tales of life in the City. As Nick Braeburn’s story unfolds, the author conjures that feeling of never quite being able to own New York, to make it yours and know it completely; and in a neat parallel the reader begins to wonder whether Nick is telling the truth, or whether he is as inscrutable as the city he loves.

I also really enjoyed the use of Ancient Egyptian imagery, which ushered in vague memories of primary school history and seems to tie in neatly with periods of New York’s architectural history, with so many key buildings built on classical and monumental lines. The painting at the heart of the book became so real to me that I sneakily searched for the artist on the internet – I love being convinced that a real-world element has found its way into a book.

The twists and turns of the plot make it a compelling and fast-paced read – highly recommended.

passionaria 

My first vote goes toThe Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen (Obliterati Press), the story of a young English man in New York, his first relationship and how it ends and the move to rent an apartment from two elderly ladies who seem to be a bit “Grey Gardens” and slightly sinister. He meets and falls in love with a beautiful fellow lodger who is an artist. He works in a gallery and we learn a lot about the NY art world, and about the Egyptology that has always been Nick’ passion, and which he finds his landladies share. They hatch a wicked plot that ultimately leads to their downfall and brushes with NY’s seamy underbelly. There are hints throughout the book, but the ending came as a complete shock to me and took my breath away. I don’t want to say anything that might be a spoiler, so please read it for yourself.

AMichaelKay 

Vote 1. The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen (Obliterati Press).

A beautifully written debut novel about a young Englishman, Nick, living in an Upper East Side apartment in New York. His mysterious landladies, the Peacock sisters and the other tenant, Lydia, have an increasing effect on his life as things take a sinister turn. I particularly liked the way Nick's state of mind took on a dream like quality as things started to unravel for him. The intrigue and suspense continue right to the end. I also liked the Egyptology references throughout the book. Highly recommended.

GGID2080179 

First vote - Paul Tudor Owen – The Weighing of the Heart (Obliterati Press)

I loved reading this fantastically paced novel. The main character begins to unravel as the novel develops and the stakes continually increase. The plot is beautifully linked with Egyptology that adds a fascinating dimension and I loved the portrayal of the New York that Nick and Lydia inhabit. I was totally gripped and loved every minute of reading this. I particularly enjoyed the final third of the book as things really start to unravel for Nick and his grip loosens on his world. I’m really looking forward to reading more from the author in the future.

allen twyning 

Vote 1 - Paul Tudor Owen - the weighing of the heart. A heartfelt tribute to the Big Apple. Owen in his debut novel gives us a touching almost palpable account of his times in New York. Emotions are raw as we explore the city through his eyes. The relationships explored throughout the book feel genuine and any reader can tell this is a true labour of love for the author. It’s an incredible piece of work and leaves the reader eager to see what this promising young author does next. Truly incredible.

jjsmclaughlin 

VOTE 1: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen (Obliterati Press)

The Weighing of the Heart is so compulsively readable that everyone I lent it to, like me, read it in no more than a day and a half. The story rattles along at a feverish pace, which sort of mirrors the narrator's thoughtless way of living. It's also very funny. It's supposed to be a mystery, but the reader is duped as much as the characters. Kinda reminded me of Bret Easton Ellis; Funny, absurd and mischievous.

Susi51 

Vote 1, Paul Tudor Owen, The Weighing of the Heart.

Wow a fabulous debut novel, I loved it. It is definitely a page turner, I read it in two days! It is an intriguing and tense mystery with characters that really draw you in. Set in modern day New York with ancient Egyptian mythology, there are twists and turns and some humour. The main character is a young English man, Nick, who soon becomes obsessed with a The Weighing of the Heart piece of art work and wants it at any cost!!!! I can't say anymore without giving the whole story away. After the introduction of the art work in the book I checked to see if it was really ancient Egyptian mythology. Oh my, it is, obsession is not good!!!

Isobellong 

Vote 1: Paul Tudor Owen - The Weighing of the Heart.

A pleasure to read from cover to cover - at once thrilling and thought-provoking. What appears to be an already intriguing love story becomes a cinematic journey through New York, the representation of which perfectly describes its timelessness.

A must read.

MrHandsomeBWonderful 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen (Obliterati)

Really enjoyed this book - very accomplished for a first-time novelist. Difficult to review without giving too much away, but the central character, Nick, is very well drawn and convincing as a narrator, with just enough glimpses beyond what he's saying to give you pause, and lead you on in the story. I think it would merit a re-read just to pick up on the clues once you've finished the book. I enjoyed the author's ear for dialogue, and particularly, given Nick's 'Englishman in New York' remove from a stable set of peers, overheard phrases that he chooses to write down - I've not seen this done before and it's very effective. There's a wry sense of humour that permeates the book, which makes the change in tone as the book goes on more jarringly effective. There's also a slightly dreamy, ethereal quality that's reminiscent of Jeffrey Eugenides or Emma Cline, and the pacing is very Patricia Highsmith in terms of propelling the reader to the end.

alexbuxton 

Vote 1 - The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen

A tour de force of a book. Paul Tudor Owen not only has an excellent middle name, but also a gift for storytelling that makes this a real joy to read. As he's the writer, not me, I won't make this too long, but would simply urge you to read this now. Your summer will thank you for it. Evoking a stylish, at times menacing, New York, and bringing to mind all sorts of crime noir books but with an oh so original take, this gripped me from start to finish. As sexy and otherworldly as a book rooted in the very real world can be. No mean feat.

ArabellaFT 

VOTE 1 - 'The Weighing of the Heart' by Paul Tudor Owen

I very much enjoyed this excellent debut novel. It's not a standard crime story, and it develops into an engrossing mystery as the reader begins to question the motivations of the characters and whether all is really as it seems. It has a slightly dreamlike quality, which works well with the references to Ancient Egyptian mythology. This is a book that can be read and re-read, there's so much attention to detail and the characters are each fascinating in their own way.

Tudor Owen 

(1) The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen.

An exciting read this, as we ponder the reliability of the narrator, the tension of the crime and whether we (the parents of the author) appear in any thinly disguised form in the narrative. We don't and so we VOTE for this book. David and Sue Owen

simplicitydrifter 

Tudor Owen 

Have a recommend for your refreshing honesty.

MrKelly2u 

VOTE 1: THE WEIGHING OF THE HEART by PAUL TUDOR OWEN

Original plot, perfectly pitched atmosphere and a great premise. Excellent read.

gpwigglesworth 

Vote 1: Paul Tudor Owen – The Weighing of the Heart (Obliterati Press) I loved this book. A young man moves to New York and fortuitously takes up residence in a stylish apartment with 2 elderly sisters. What follows is a tale of art, love and theft with a touch of madness - all set withing the brilliantly realised bustle of New York City. This is an excellent debut from a very talented writer. There are echoes of Donna Tartt (no bad thing of course) though this is very much it's own book. I like a book that keeps you guessing keeps you enthralled and this certainly does that. I look forward to Mr Tudor Owen's next tome!

kkumaria 

My vote goes to Paul Tudor Owen’s The Weighing of the Heart (by Obliterati), which - in addition to being wonderfully evocative of the energy of New York for the twenty-something - brilliantly builds a thrilling tale of obsession and recklessness.

pauldhull 

I would like to vote for The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen. I rattled through this debut novel in a few days. A well paced plot and a page-turner in the best sense of the term. The ending also left me satisfied and avoided sentimentalism. Covering modern life in New York and Ancient Egypt there is something for everyone here.

stevetamburello 

Vote:

1 The Weighing of the Heart - Paul Tudor Owen

Review:

I've never been to New York but within a few pages I was fully immersed in the city through the eyes of Nick Braeburn, as he finds his place in the New World in the spirit of the great American novels like Catcher in the Rye or On the Road. But before you realise, it all takes a less than ideal turn. The constant presence of the Egyptian gods added an interesting layer to the story and there's plenty to mull over when the book is done. A writer to watch..

Richard Luscombe 

Vote 1: The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen

Review of The Weighing of the Heart: This is a brisk-paced modern New York tale spun around an art "heist" with a difference. Two young expat artists trying to find their way in the Big Apple meet and fall in love and chance upon an opportunity to cheat their wealthy landladies... but at least one of the young lovers may not be exactly who they seem and their ingenious scam stands on the edge of discovery. In his debut novel Paul Tudor Owen paints a vivid picture of NYC's art scene blended with a colorful dive into Egyptian mythology.

anna88 

Vote: The Weighing of the Heart, Paul Owen

The debut novel from Paul Owen is illustrative and captivating. Set in New York, the reader is immersed in the life of Englishman Nicholas Braeburn. Much of the city is left behind as the novel is largely set in the mysterious setting of the grand yet dilapidated house of the Peacock sisters. Nick's existence appears somewhat simple and romantic on the surface. However, this simplicity is gradually eroded throughout the novel. One action turns Nick's life around, changing the pace and feel of the second half of the book. With echos of Donna Tartt, this page turner is a must read. Really looking forward to seeing more from Paul Owen!

patmayne 

Vote 1 - 'The Weighing of the Heart by Paul Tudor Owen (Obliterati Press)' I can't believe this is the Author's first novel. Set in New York, it captures the style and feel of the City as majestically as anything I've read by such literary luminaries as Auster, Tartt and Salinger. Beautifully written, accessible language and a slightly phantasmagorical story line (that taught me more about ancient Egyptian mythology than any school trip to a museum did!) this book deals with love, betrayal, identity and the age old question of the American Dream. I'd certainly recommend that you give it a go and I personally cannot wait to read more!

Bookphace

2nd VOTE for Paul Tudor Owen's The Weighing of the Heart. An impressive debut novel, it's economic prose but the overall sense is one of richness and substance with a finely woven plot and some balanced and contrasting characterisations.

[douxreviews]

Gravity (2013) Review

"Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence." – Leonard 'Bones' McCoy

In space no one can hear you cry out in terror. They can't hear you scream in pain, or weep at the loss of a friend or loved one. Space is quiet and cold and empty, and to be honest I've never really grasped those truths about space except in an abstract way. Until watching this movie.

That's probably because in Hollywood, space rumbles. You can hear the rockets engage and burn with brilliant jets of blue or red flame. It gives you a sense of movement and weight. Because sound is something we need to use to reconcile what we see versus what we understand. For example; you see a crowd of people start to react to something, and a moment later you hear the sound and react with them. It's a part of our nature.

What happens when you can't hear what's coming? What if you are doing everything in your power, with the chips stacked against you, to simply open a door? (Or in this case, a hatch?) How can something like that be so harrowing, that you are literally on the edge of your seat?

Well, that's exactly what Gravity accomplished. It took simple actions, and things we take for granted, and turned them on their ear.

To elaborate; the only sounds in this movie are done through radio, and muffled through Ryan Stone's (Sandra Bullock) space suit. You can hear impacts, and breathing, and static and that's it. Except for the score, which never distracts from the experience. It is a remarkable thing to watch something get destroyed and not hear it happen. It's disconcerting and totally feeds into the tension. This film doesn't rely on tricks or jump scares. This is the kind of film that drops your stomach to your feet and makes you grip the arm rests for ninety minutes.

I believe this is Sandra Bullock's best work. She gives a nuanced and powerful portrayal of a woman in totally over her head, and who fights with everything she has to survive. George Clooney is also kind of perfect in his role as the seasoned astronaut whose calm, gravelly voice evens out the chaotic events happening around him. He's the hero archetype, and yet his character is so true that you believe he's real from nearly his first line. However, the real hero of this movie is the director, Alfonso Cuarón. He has crafted a masterpiece of tension and character that totally blew me away.

This is an utterly gorgeous movie, and I don't say that lightly. Every shot is perfectly framed, and the scope is stunning. The visual effects are incredibly realistic, to the point where it's difficult to tell where the real sets end and the effects begin. It's also a remarkably simple movie. There's no complex plot to figure out, nor are there monsters or laser guns. It is a very different kind of science fiction. The kind based on what could really happen, where reality and fiction merge in a way that is truly frightening.

I don't know if this is the best movie of the year, but it comes close. It also may not be for everyone. This film is stark and real, and occasionally difficult to watch. But it's excellent on every level. Oh, and I usually don't advocate 3D, but in this case it was totally worth the extra price of admission.

4 out of 4 Space Suits

J.D. Balthazar is a confirmed nerd who loves most things sci-fi or fantasy-related.

[fuyonggu]

Book of Jin 109: Biography of Murong Huang

You should really read these entries as embedded in the relevent Zizhi Tongjian entries for the best context. This post is more to have everything included in one place. I didn’t include the Chinese text this time because of the length, especially for some of the petitions.

Murong Huang, styled Yuanzhen, was the third son of Murong Hui. He had a regal countenance with broad and even teeth, and he was seven chi eight cun tall. He was bold and resolute, as well as very crafty and cunning. He esteemed learning and the Classics, and he was skilled at reading the heavens. When Murong Hui became Duke of Liaodong, he selected Murong Huang as his heir.

At the beginning of the Jianwu reign era (~317), the Jin court appointed Murong Huang as Champion General, Worthy Prince of the Left, and Marquis of Wangping. He often led troops on campaign, and was invariably successful. At the end of the Taining reign era (~325), Murong Huang was further promoted to General Who Pacifies The North and Duke of Chaoxian.

When Murong Hui died (in 333), Murong Huang inherited his position. The Jin court appointed him as General Who Pacifies The North and provisional Inspector of Pingzhou, and he was granted authority over the domain.

Not long afterwards, Yuwen Qidegui was driven out of his domain by his subordinate Yuwen Yidougui, and he fled and died away from his land. Murong Huang led troops to attack Yuwen Yidougui. Yuwen Yidougui feared him and asked for peace, and so Murong Huang merely constructed the cities of Yuyin and Anjin on the border of their territory before returning.

Earlier, the General Who Establishes Might, Murong Huang's elder brother by his father's concubine, Murong Han, had proved himself to be a heroic and talented general, and so Murong Huang had long been jealous of him. His younger brothers by his own mother, the General Who Conquers The Caitiffs, Murong Ren, and the General of Broad Valor, Murong Zhao, had also greatly received his father's favor, and Murong Huang was also uneasy about them. Following Murong Hui's death, these brothers were all afraid that Murong Huang would not be able to put up with them. At this time, Murong Han fled to seek refuge with Duan Liao.

Murong Ren urged Murong Zhao to raise troops and depose Murong Huang. Murong Huang killed Murong Zhao, and sent envoys to discover the truth about Murong Ren's intentions. The envoys encountered Murong Ren as he was attempting to cross a river. Murong Ren then knew that his plot had been discovered, so he killed his brother's envoys and returned east to his base at Pingguo. Murong Huang sent the General Who Establishes Valor, his younger brother Murong You, his Marshal, Tong Shou, and others to campaign against Murong Ren. Murong Ren led all his forces to oppose them; Murong You and the others were defeated, and they were all lost to Murong Ren. The Prefect of Xiangping, Wang Bing, and the general Sun Ji rebelled against Murong Huang in Liaodong, while the Colonel of Eastern Yi Tribes, Feng Chou, the Army Protector, Yi Yi, the Chancellor of Liaodong, Han Jiao, the Administrator of Xuantu, Gao Xu, and others all abandoned their cities and fled back to Murong Huang’s base. Murong Ren thus controlled all territory beyond the Liao river. He proclaimed himself General of Chariots and Cavalry, Inspector of Pingzhou, and Duke of Liaodong. The Yuwen clan, Duan Liao, and other Xianbei clans all sought to aid him.

In the ninth year of Xianhe (334 AD), Murong Huang sent his Marshal, Feng Yi, to attack the Xianbei leader Mudi at Bailang, and sent his General Who Displays Might, Shu Yu, to attack the Wuhuan leader Xiluohou at Pinggang; both of these foes were killed.

Murong Huang's 材官, Liu Pei, attacked Duan Liao’s territory at Yilian, but he could not take it. Duan Liao thus attacked Tuhe, but Murong Huang sent Zhang Meng to attack him, and he defeated Duan Liao.

Duan Liao's younger brother Duan Lan and Murong Han attacked Liucheng. Murong Huang's Commandant, Shi Cong, attacked and defeated them. More than ten days later, Duan Lan and Murong Han again besieged Liucheng. Murong Huang sent his General Who Calms Distant Places, his younger brother Murong Hann, Feng Yi, and others as reinforcements. Murong Huang warned his brother, "The enemy army’s morale is high, and it will be difficult to engage their vanguard. You should be careful to keep your forces intact; do not lightly rush into battle. You must keep your soldiers together while you prepare your defensive arrangements, and only afterwards attack the enemy." But Murong Hann had a headstrong temperament, and he sent more than a thousand cavalry on ahead as the vanguard. Although Feng Yi ordered a halt, Murong Hann would not listen. They were defeated by Duan Lan, and more than half of his men were killed. Duan Lan then attacked Liucheng again, employing flying ladders and tunnels. He besieged the city for twenty days. Shi Cong then personally led his soldiers to march out and attack him, and he defeated Duan Lan, taking fifteen hundred heads. Duan Lan then retreated.

During this year (334), Emperor Cheng sent his envoys, Xu Meng, Lü Qiuxing, and others bearing staffs of authority to appoint Murong Huang as Grand General Who Guards The Army, Inspector of Pingzhou, Grand Chanyu, Duke of Liaodong, Credential Bearer, and Commander. He was granted the authority to wield authority over his domain and confer his own appointments on subordinates, just as Murong Hui had done before him.

Murong Huang campaigned in Liaodong, and he captured Xiangping. Murong Ren’s appointee as Prefect of Jujiu, Liu Cheng, surrendered that city to Murong Huang. A native of Xinchang, Zhang Heng, arrested the Xinchang county officials and also surrendered. The other officials appointed by Murong Ren were all executed, and the major families of Liaodong were divided up and relocated to the capital Jicheng. Murong Huang established the counties of Heyang, Wuci, and Xile before returning.

In the seventh year (335), the seventh month, Murong Huang made his son Murong Jun his heir.

At the beginning of the Xiankang reign era (~335), Murong Huang sent Feng Yi to surprise attack the Yuwen leader Yuwen Sheyi; Feng Yi captured many of the enemy before returning. Yuwen Sheyi led light cavalry to pursue Feng Yi and fought him at the Hun River, but was again defeated.

Murong Huang planned to campaign against Murong Ren using the water route (that is, across the Sea of Bohai). His ministers all remonstrated with him, believing that the water route was too perilous, and that he should take the land route instead. But Murong Huang said, "Up until now, the sea could never be traversed, but ever since Murong Ren's rebellion, it has frozen over three times. In former times, Emperor Guangwu of Han was able to achieve the grand design by crossing the frozen Hutuo River. When Heaven may be offering me such an opportunity, how can I refuse it? Thus have I decided, and let anyone who argues otherwise part with his head!"

(When Emperor Guangwu of Han was fleeing from his enemies, he once sent a subordinate ahead to the Hutuo River to see if it was frozen enough to cross over. Upon inspection, it was not frozen enough to support the army. But when the official returned, he lied and told Liu Xiu that it was. Miraculously, when Liu Xiu’s army reached the river, it had indeed frozen enough for his army to cross. It broke apart as the last of the cavalry crossed it, so his enemies could not pursue him.)

Murong Huang led the three armies from Changli out to march across the ice. Murong Ren had not been concerned about Murong Huang coming at him from such a direction, and so his scouts did not report the enemy’s arrival to him until Murong Huang was already within seven li of Pingguo. Murong Ren then rushed out to offer battle, but Murong Huang captured him. He killed Murong Ren and then returned.

Duan Liao sent his general Li Yong to surprise attack Wuxing at night. However, Li Yong encountered rain, and when he tried to retreat, Murong Huang's Commandant, Zhang Meng, pursued and attacked him, capturing him.

Duan Lan led tens of thousands of soldiers to camp at Qushuiting, preparing to attack Liucheng, while Yuwen Yidougui marched to attack Anjin, to support Duan Lan’s invasion. Murong Huang sent fifty thousand horse and foot to attack Yuwen Yidougui while leading another army to Liucheng, and Duan Lan and Yuwen Yidougui both retreated. Murong Huang sent Feng Yi with light cavalry to pursue, and Feng Yi attacked and defeated them, taking much of their equipment and twenty days’ worth of grain before returning. Murong Huang said to his generals, "These two villains must be ashamed that they retreated without any success, so they will certainly return to try again. We should lay an ambush in wait near Liucheng." He sent Feng Yi with cavalry to prepare ambushes on the roads through Mount Ma'er. When Duan Lan’s cavalry indeed arrived, Feng Yi attacked them from both sides, greatly defeating them, and killing the general Rong Bao.

Murong Huang sent his combined Chief Clerk, Liu Bin, and his Prefect of the Household Gentlemen, Yang Jing, to escort Xu Meng and the other Jin envoys back to Jiankang.

Murong Huang sent his heir Murong Jun to campaign against Duan Liao's cities, while Feng Yi attacked the Yuwen tribes; both achieved great victories and returned.

Murong Huang established the Woodblock of Accepting Remonstrations, as a means to receive candid criticism.

After shifting Changli commandary, Murong Huang built Haocheng east of Duan Liao’s territory at Yilian, and sent his general Lan Bo to guard it, in order to keep pressure on Yilian. He also built a fortress at Qushui, in order to support Lan Bo. When Yilian suffered from great famine, Duan Liao sent grain transports, but Lan Bo attacked and captured them.

Duan Liao sent his general Qu Yun to attack Xingguo, and Qu Yun fought a great battle against Murong Huang's general Murong Zun at the Wuguan River. But Qu Yun was defeated and killed, and Murong Zun captured his entire army.

Feng Yi and others argued that since Murong Huang performed such important duties on behalf of the realm but held so meager a title, he ought to assume greater title, and they urged him to proclaim himself Prince of Yan. Therefore, in the third year of Xiankang (337), Murong Huang assumed the title Prince of Yan, and proclaimed a general amnesty within his domain. He appointed Feng Yi as Chancellor of State and Han Shou as Marshal. Pei Kai, Yang Wu, Wang Yu, Li Hong, Du Qun, Song Gai, Liu Zhan, Shi Cong, Huangfu Zhen, Yang Xie, Song Huang, Ping Xi, Zhang Hong, and others were all granted their own various appointments. Murong Huang raised Wenchang Palace, and he rode in the Root of Gold chariot pulled by six horses, with orders shouted to make way whenever it was coming or going, just as had been done by Emperor Wu of Wei and Emperor Wen of Jin (Cao Cao and Sima Zhao) when they had overseen Han and Wei. He honored his wife Lady Duan as Princess, and his son Murong Jun as Crown Prince.

From de Crespigny's notes in To Establish Peace:

The Root of Gold chariot (jingen che) with six horses to pull it, together with the escort of chariots of the five seasons (wushi che: being five pairs of carriages, each painted and decorated in a colour, green/azure, red, yellow, white and black, to match the seasons of spring, summer, mid-year, autumn and winter according to the theories of the Five Powers wu xing), were likewise imperial prerogatives. See HHS 119/29, 3644, the Treatise of Carriages and Robes.

The Root of Gold is discussed by Mansvelt Beck, Treatises, 244-248. As he remarks at 247, there are only two occasions during Later Han that this "somewhat elusive" chariot is recorded as actually being used: for the capping ceremony of Emperor He in 91, and for Cao Cao at this time. ZZTJ commentary here quotes from a Treatise of Carriages and Robes compiled by Dong Ba, a scholar of that time who may, as Mansvelt Beck suggests, have been involved with the design, and the treatise of Sima Biao follows his description.

According to Dong Ba, the Root of Gold carriage had vermilion wheels, side-bars and hand-bar decorated with dragons and tigers, and a golden crow adorning the yoke. The canopy was covered with feathers, and the ribs ended in flowers. Above the carriage was a great banner of twelve streamers painted with images of the sun, the moon and flying dragons.

As Mansvelt Beck points out, the iconography, design and status of the carriage varied from one period to another: Cai Yong, writing a few years earlier, gives it golden wheels, different animals on the side-bars and no banners, another account refers to tinkling bells, reminiscent of the Phoenix Carriage (note 57 to Chuping 1), and JS 25, 754 and 759, where the Root of Gold and its ten associate chariots of five colours are described, says that the Root of Gold had again no banners.

Because of Duan Liao's constant threat on his border, Murong Huang sent his general Song Hui to Shi Hu to claim vassalage to Zhao, and to ask him to launch a campaign against Duan Liao. So Shi Hu gathered soldiers and advanced. Murong Huang led his forces to attack Duan Liao's cities north of Lingzhi. Duan Liao sent his general Duan Lan to come oppose Murong Huang, and they fought a great battle; Duan Lan was defeated, and thousands of his soldiers were killed. Murong Huang's forces captured more than five thousand households and returned to their territory. When Shi Hu arrived at Xuwu, Duan Liao fled to Mount Miyun.

Emperor Cheng again sent envoys to promote Murong Huang to Grand General Who Conquers The North, Governor of Youzhou, acting Inspector of Pingzhou, and Cavalier In Regular Attendance. His fief was increased to ten thousand households. He maintained his prior authority as Credential Bearer, Commander, Chanyu, and Duke.

After Shi Hu advanced and entered Lingzhi, he was angry that Murong Huang had not led his own army to meet him there. Shi Hu advanced to attack Murong Huang as well. When Shi Hu's army reached Jicheng, it had hundreds of thousands of soldiers, and it attacked the city on all sides. Thirty-six cities among the counties, commandaries, and garrisons betrayed Murong Huang and surrendered to Shi Hu. A stalemate lasted for more than ten days outside the city, and all those with Murong Huang urged him to surrender as well. But Murong Huang replied, "I aim to obtain the whole realm; why speak of surrendering?" Murong Huang sent his son Murong Ke and others to lead two thousand riders, and they marched out at dawn to attack. Shi Hu's soldiers were caught unawares, and they cast aside their armor and fled. Murong Ke then led his victorious riders in pursuit, and they killed or captured more than thirty thousand soldiers, and established several defensive works and camps before returning.

Duan Liao then sent a messenger falsely offering to surrender to Shi Hu, and asking him to send troops for aid. Shi Hu sent his general Ma Qiu with an army to receive Duan Liao. Murong Ke was waiting in ambush at Mount Miyun with seven thousand cavalry, and he greatly defeated Ma Qiu, capturing his Marshal, Yang Yu, and his general Xianyu Liang. Murong Ke combined his forces with Duan Liao's soldiers and returned.

Emperor Cheng again sent envoys to promote Murong Huang to Grand General Who Conquers The North, Governor of Youzhou, acting Inspector of Pingzhou, and Cavalier In Regular Attendance. His fief was increased to ten thousand households. He maintained his prior authority as Credential Bearer, Commander, Chanyu, and Duke.

Murong Huang's Directing General of the Front, Murong Ping, defeated Shi Hu's general Shi Cheng and others at Liaoxi; he killed the generals Huyan Huang and Zhang Zhi, and captured more than a thousand households before returning.

Duan Liao plotted rebellion, so Murong Huang executed him.

Shi Hu again sent Shi Cheng to attack Fancheng, but without success, so he advanced and took Guangcheng.

In the sixth year of Xiankang (340), in the second month, Murong Huang fought Shi Hu's general Shi Cheng at Liaoxi and defeated him. He sent word of his triumph to the capital.

Earlier, when Duan Liao had been defeated, his General Who Establishes Might, Murong Han, had fled to Yuwen Gui. However, because his military reputation was so widespread, he was still not safe there. So he pretended to be mad and drank to excess, let down his hair and chanted songs. Yuwen Gui believed in his acting and did not restrict his movements, and so he was able to travel about as he pleased. When he came to mountains or rivers, he would note their forms and think about the roads and strategic places that would be involved during any attack there; there was nothing that he failed to memorize. Murong Huang sent the merchant Wang Che to secretly observe Murong Han. When Murong Han saw Wang Che, he said nothing, only beat his breast. Wang Che came back and reported on this. Murong Huang mused, "Murong Han wishes to return." So he sent Wang Che to give Murong Han a bow and arrows. Murong Han then stole Yuwen Gui's prized horse, and returned along with his two sons.

Murong Huang planned to attack the Shi clan. He gathered his generals and told them, "Shi Hu has is concentrating his defenses at Anle and the other cities, so he must not have prepared any defenses north and south of them. So if we advance along side roads and appear where they will not expect us, we can completely rout northern Jizhou." So he led twenty thousand cavalry from Yeweng Pass, and charged straight for Ji. They crossed the Yellow River at Wusui Crossing, and entered into Gaoyang, where they burned all the gathered grain, and they forcibly relocated more than thirty thousand households from Youzhou and Jizhou.

Murong Huang sent Yang Yu, Tang Zhu, and others to build the city of Longcheng, and to construct a palace and an ancestral temple there, and he changed Liucheng into Longcheng County.

Although Murong Huang had proclaimed himself Prince of Yan, he still bowed to Jin authority, so he sent his Chief Clerk, Liu Xiang, to visit the Jin capital and proclaim an account of his triumphs, explain his intentions in taking the provisional titles, and advocate for a grand joint campaign to pacify the Central Plains. When Murong Huang heard that Yu Liang had died, and that his younger brothers Yu Bing and Yu Yi had inherited his authority and command, he composed a petition to the court stating:

"Based on my studies of the wise and the deluded sovereigns of past ages, those that were able to associate themselves with worthy people and establish them were the ones who achieved so much that they brought peace to their states, while those who surrounded themselves with mere partisans and the relatives of their empresses were the ones who always inflicted the disasters of ruin and shame upon their states. It was for that reason that, even though the King of Zhou considered the Earl of Shen to be his "worthy uncle", the Earl himself held a border command and did not wield control over court affairs.

"We might ponder several perilous examples to the contrary. If we consider King Zhaoxiang of Qin, although he was a worthy ruler himself, he entrusted affairs to his two uncles, and that brought his state to the brink of ruin. Coming to Emperor Wu of Han, he assigned great importance to his uncle Tian Fen, so that there was no important decision which Tian Fen did not have a hand in. But after Tian Fen's death, Emperor Wu gnashed his teeth in hatred at his memory. When Emperor Cheng of Han was still young and tender and unable to rule himself, court affairs were all led astray by his captivating wives, while the country was left in the unrestrained hands of his five uncles, and in the end these things led to Wang Mang usurping the imperial seat of power. Who does not feel bitter pain and anguish whenever they reflect upon these unhappy reigns?

"Even if a sovereign places affairs in the hands of one of their uncles who is indeed a worthy fellow, such as Marquis Rang (Wei Ran) or Wang Feng were, it still leads to an unacceptable situation; I have heard of there being two ministers, but never of there being two sovereigns. And if these uncles do not even possess talent, then it leads to the disasters of Dou Xian's and Liang Ji's grips on power. The good or bad outcomes of these situations was only natural. So whoever is able to remain on the right path can avoid such downfalls.

"Now Your Majesty is a renowned and naturally gifted sovereign, so your reign ought to have resulted in the uplifting of Jin's fortunes. But instead, the state has experienced many difficulties, besieged by adversity for which it was ill-prepared, and all these things have led to the current pain and suffering. If we retrace the causes for these events, we find that they were all because of the great honor shown to the late Minister Over The Masses, Yu Liang. When Yu Liang held the reins of power, he interfered in the government and purged his inferiors in the court, while he slighted and injured the generals on the border. This caused Su Jun and Zu Yue to let their resentments boil over, and they inflicted a terrible defeat against the state. That also led to Empress Dowager Yu becoming so agitated that she passed away in an instant. If it had not been for the protection of the state's altars and the assistance of the people and the spirits, then those rebels of wolfish hearts would have claimed the final victory!

"Past events must not be forgotten; they serve as examples to we the living. Yet even now, the Chief of the Palace Secretariat and General of the Left, Yu Bing, and his brothers still occupy the central offices of the court and hold the highest commands on the borders. These brothers are all arrayed such that there is no man or minister they do not influence. Your Majesty is deeply earnest, like the Weiyang poem, and Yu Bing and the others should be willingly heeding your wishes. I have often said that if a sovereign wishes to honor and exalt the family of his uncles, he would do best to grant them fiefs on the borders, and shower them with salaries and rewards while limiting their power and influence. By doing so, he shows them unparalleled honor above, while preventing any suggestion of partiality below. In such situations, will not they produce honor or disgrace on their own, and will good things not be said about them without needing to speak on their behalf?

"Consider that Yu Liang, only a single person, was yet able to bring about such terrible incidents despite the fame and reputation that he held. How much more is this the case now, when those who hold the same position are a bunch of no-names? Besides, the feelings of the people are easily led astray, and it is difficult to make your true intentions known to every household. Although Your Majesty might not mean to be partial to your uncles, who in all the realm will not accuse you of it?

"I myself enjoy nearly the same reputation and position that Yu Bing and his brothers do. Yet I serve in a distant outpost, and my own relatives in my fief enjoy favor or not purely as is suitable, in accordance with the circumstances of the times. Those who would still argue against and craft lies about my words may claim to be acting on behalf of Your Majesty, but really they are serving Yu Bing's designs. They criticize those who would accept my words, lest their own faults should cause them to lose favor. What use are they, who do not support one who is about to fall?

"In former times, Emperor Xuan of Han did not listen to Xu Fu's careful admonishments against the Huo clan, until he was eventually driven to the extent of having to purge the entire clan; the loyal were lumped in alongside the traitors, the investigation against them was not meticulous, and the provisions against them were not gradual. I might therefore say that all my words to you regarding the Yu clan are gradual provisions against them. But I fear that Your Majesty will not perceive my loyalty and will not follow my advice, so that when the day of disaster comes, it will be merely another case of 'burning yourself through your anger'.

"During the reign of Emperor Cheng of Han, in all the petitions that Wang Zhang and Liu Xiang submitted commenting on the affairs of the realm, they never once pointed the finger at the Wang clan of Wang Feng or reprimanded them for their behavior. It was because of these omissions that some of their own sons suffered death, and others suffered punishments. Gu Yong and Zhang Yu likewise followed the trend and did not speak out against them, and although Gu Yong saved his own life, he earned the ridicule of posterity. If I let down my hair and defy convention, it is because I hold such a high role as general. Day and night, my sole concern is for the state, and I seek ways to repay it, whether that be by smiting its foes without or acting fully loyal and proper within. I present a strong argument in order to convey my sincerity, and to respond to the grace which the state has shown me. If even I do not say such things, who ought to?"

He also wrote to Yu Bing, stating:

"Sir, being the maternal uncle of the Emperor, you might be said to be occupying the 'Jiaofang wing of the Weiyang Palace' as a relative of the Empress Dowager. You occupy the highest offices of the state, and both internally and externally you execute the royal mandate. Furthermore, your brothers hold countless positions both as generals and as administrators of the provinces. The glory of your family's name spreads across the whole capital region. In all the reigns since the Qin and Han dynasties, whose family can compare with the great honor with which your own clan has been bestowed? From what I have seen, if through your achievements you ventured some great undertaking, you would certainly gain the same reputation as the Marquis of Shen. And if you perhaps hesitated from that step, it would only be to avoid following the same paths as Liang Ji or Dou Xian.

"Whenever I review the old histories and biographies of the sovereigns of old, I find examples of rulers who initially favored the families of their mothers and let them do as they pleased, even letting them wield authority over the government and cause turmoil in the court. In every such instance, such rulers granted these relatives exceptional honor at first, and yet in the end blamed them of a whole host of faults. So one might say that by initially favoring these relatives, such rulers led them to their doom. I have often faulted the sovereigns of these past ages for not having practiced the art of guarding against such undue budding favoritism. Why did they never endeavor to grant these relatives a plot of land somewhere, and charge them to serve in fiefs along the borders, so that they might support the state and one another together, like the Dukes of Qi and Chen once did for the Zhou dynasty? Had they done so, they would have been able to face south and be honored as rulers forever, and how could they have ever have had cause to worry about suffering demotion or disgrace?

"At the end of the Han dynasty, the imperial uncles Dou Wu and He Jin favored good people while being humble themselves. Worthy gentlemen supported them, and though they were endangered by the eunuchs, the whole realm sympathized with them. It was only because they were not prompt in carrying out their plans that they lost their lives and the state fell.

"At the moment, all the lands within the Four Seas are suffering from the most extreme adversity, and Zhongxia is overrun with presumptuous traitors. Families have their blood boil over in rage, and people are determined to avenge this disaster. Is this any time to lay comfortably on one's pillow in perfect comfort and while away the years in refined conversation?

"I myself may possess scant virtue, but I have been blessed to receive titles of office by His Late Majesty. Though I only command the people of a few commandaries, by their aid I have annexed and conquered strong enemies. I have devoted myself to constant warfare up until now, locked in battle with blades crossed; I have only one season of the year to attend to farming, for the other three are spent in military endeavors. Yet though I must lead my armies in constant campaigns without rest, my warehouses are overflowing with grain, my enemies fear for me grows by the day, and my territory expands ever larger. If even I am able to accomplish this much, how much could one accomplish if they possessed the might of the royal armies and the power of the imperial domain? Why then have you spent the same years in idle chatter?"

When Yu Bing saw the petition and the letter, he was very afraid. Worried that Murong Huang was too far away and isolated to be controlled, he sent in a memorial with He Chong and others asking that Murong Huang's proclaimed title of Prince of Yan be confirmed. Emperor Cheng sent his combined Grand Herald, Guo Xi, bearing a staff of authority to appoint Murong Huang as Palace Attendant, Grand Commander of military affairs north of the Yellow river, Grand General, and Prince of Yan, while still keeping his original titles as before. More than a hundred of Murong Huang's subordinates were also granted offices in recognition of their achievements.

The same year as Murong Huang wrote his letter to Yu Bing, he campaigned against Goguryeo. The King of Goguryeo, Go Soe, sued for peace, so Murong Huang returned. The following year, Go Soe sent his eldest son Go Jo to Murong Huang.

In the seventh year of Xiankang (341), Murong Huang moved his capital to Longcheng.

Murong Huang assembled an army of forty thousand strong soldiers, and marched through the southern narrows, campaigning against the Yuwen and Goguryeo. He also sent Murong Han and his own son Murong Chui to be vanguard commanders, and sent his Chief Clerk, Wang Yu, and others to lead another army of fifteen thousand, to advance along the northern route. The King of Goguryeo, Go Soe, believed that Murong Huang's army would come by the northern route, and so he sent his younger brother Go Mu with fifty thousand elite troops to guard the northern route, while he led his weaker troops defended the southern narrows. Murong Han and Go Soe fought a battle at Mudi, where Go Soe was greatly defeated. The victorious Yan troops advanced and entered Hwando, while Go Soe fled alone on horseback. Murong Huang dug up the tomb of Go Soe's father and took the body, along with Go Soe's mother, wife, and his treasures. The Yan troops rounded up more than fifty thousand men and women to bring back, and set fire to the palaces, before demolishing Hwando and returning home. The following year, Go Soe sent envoys to declare himself Murong Huang's subject, and they offered tribute. So Murong Huang returned the body of his father.

Yuwen Gui sent his Chancellor of State, Moqian Hun, to attack Murong Huang. The Yan generals asked that Murong Huang march out to fight him, but he refused. Moqian Hun believed that Murong Huang feared him, so he amused himself in drinking and hunting, and did not prepare defenses. Murong Huang said, "Moqian Hun's decadence has sealed his fate; now we can defeat him in one battle." He sent Murong Han to lead the cavalry to attack, and Moqian Hun was greatly defeated; he barely escaped with his life, while all of his soldiers were captured.

Murong Huang then personally led twenty thousand cavalry to campaign against Yuwen Gui, with Murong Han and Murong Chui leading the vanguard. Yuwen Gui sent his cavalry general Sheyigan to lead all his forces to oppose Murong Han. Murong Huang sent a rider to tell Murong Han, "Sheyi is bold and majestic; you should somewhat avoid him for now, and after he has grown arrogant, then you may get him."

But Murong Han replied, "Yuwen Gui's elite troops have all gathered here. If we can defeat them today, then Yuwen Gui will fall without any further effort from our soldiers. Sheyigan's reputation is only a mirage; we can easily defeat him. We should not restrain the zeal of our soldiers just for the sake of stroking the enemy’s ego."

So he launched a frontal assault and killed Sheyigan, and captured his whole army. Yuwen Gui fled far away, hiding in the northern deserts. Murong Huang reclaimed more than a thousand li of land, and relocated more than fifty thousand tribes of the Yuwen people to Changli. He renamed the name of Sheyigan's city to Weide. Those of good conduct were received with ceremony, and rewards and merits were distributed each accordingly.

Murong Huang distributed oxen among the poor families, and out of their produce, eighty percent was for the state, and twenty percent for themselves. For those that had oxen but no land, out of their produce, seventy percent was for the state, and thirty percent for themselves. Murong Huang's Recordskeeping Army Advisor, Feng Yu, remonstrated with him, saying:

"I have heard that the great ministers of the sage kings of old imposed only slight taxes and spread them out among the common people; they divided them into three sorts of farmland, and they taxed them only at a rate of one-tenth of their production. When people were cold, they clothed them; when people were hungry, they fed them. They provided families with the means to sustain themselves. Even when floods or droughts occurred, such things did not lead to disaster. Why was that? Because they were astute in selecting officials to oversee farming affairs, and they carried out their duties of encouraging and instructing the people in farming with full diligence. People were able to farm a full hundred 畝 of farmland without needing to harness the power of beasts of burden. Those people who applied themselves in farming were granted conspicuous rewards, while those who were negligent in farming still did not suffer any punishments. Offices were created as suited to the circumstances, and people were appointed as suited to their offices; those who held office were certain to fulfill their duties, and no one held an empty sinecure. Functions were adjusted based on the yearly need, and salaries were set accordingly. Even after providing for the salaries of the government officials, the Grand Storehouse was so full that three years' worth of farming produced a year's worth of surplus grain. With such stores in place, how could the public good have lacked for sufficient grain? What cause did the common people have for worry when floods or drought occured? But even as the ordinances of agricultural duties increased, none of the Prefects, Chiefs, and Two Thousand 石 salary officials had the desire to work towards the public good or harness the full bounty of their territories. This was why, when Emperor Guangwu of Han recognized this fact and saw how fallow and underutilized the fields were, he summoned such officials and killed them by the dozens, so that during the subsequent reigns of Emperors Ming and Zhang, the realm knew peace.

"Now ever since the Disaster of Yongjia, the common people have scattered as refugees; the Central Plains have been so barren and bare that there is no smoke from residences for a thousand li. Hunger and cold have chased after the people, flowing one after the other as though through ditches and channels. But His Late Highness (Murong Hui) was a man of divine martial talent and sage political calculation. Fully guarding his corner of the realm, he smashed the evil through his might and attracted the hopes of distant people through his virtue. This was why countless people of all kinds came from the Nine Provinces, traveling ten thousand li with their babes on their backs, to live under him, like little children coming to their loving father. So many refugees arrived that the population of his original territory swelled by more than ten times. With such an abundant population but such cramped land available, forty percent of them were left without any farmland.

"Your Highness is a man of heroic and sage character, and you have successfully expanded your late father's enterprise. In the south, you routed the mighty Zhao; in the east, you vanquished Goguryeo. You expanded our territory by three thousand li, and you increased our population by a hundred thousand households. Through your continued military successes in expanding and broadening the territory of the state, your deeds exceed those of the Western Earl (King Wen of Zhou). You would now do well to abolish and open up the various enclosures, in order to provide livelihoods for the refugees. Those people who are so destitute that they have no funds or property whatsoever should be granted cattle for tilling their fields. Since these people are Your Highness's own people, how could you view giving them cattle as losing the cattle? And those who have amassed great stores should have their stores distributed among the common people; no more than this would be needed. Then you will greatly fulfill the hopes of those living close to you, and the people of the Middle Kingdom will all 'turn out with baskets of rice and vessels of congee to welcome your host'; which of them would stand with Shi Hu?

"Even during the decadent ages of the Wei and Jin dynasties, the common people were still not taxed at such rates of seventy or eighty percent. Those who used both public land and government-provided cattle were only taxed at sixty percent, while keeping forty percent for themselves, and those who used public land but their own private cattle were only taxed at fifty percent. The common people were satisfied with this, and everyone was pleased and happy. Even so, I would not call their policies the methods followed by wise sovereigns. How then could I approve of even greater tax rates than theirs?

"Even sovereigns as wise as Yao and Tang of Shang were not spared from the threats of flooding or droughts. That is why every sovereign ought to dredge and tend to ditches and canals, and follow the irrigation principles of Zheng Bai, Xi Menbao, and Shi Qi. Then even during drought, one can provide water from canals, and even during floods, one can divert water through ditches. Those above will have no fear of the worries of the Yunhan poems, and those below will face no threat of affliction from floods.

"It was by force of arms that you defeated the people of Goguryeo, Baekje, and the Yuwen and Duan clans; it was not like the people of the Middle Kingdom, who respected your virtue and came to you. All of these conquered people cherish hopes of returning home again. There are nearly a hundred thousand households of them, yet they are all cramped together around the capital city. I fear that they might soon pose a serious threat to the state. You ought to divide them up, brothers from brothers and clans from dependents, and relocate them to the cities on our western border. Then nurture them with grace, restrain them with law, and prevent them from scattering among the residents, so that they may be of worth to the state.

"Since the Central Plains have not been pacified yet, suitable resources should be gathered and set in store. Yet there are now far too many offices and positions, and a great many indolent people. If even a single person does not plow, the state must address that much more hunger each year. Those who do plow are required to feed them, so that one person's effort is consumed by another. So when there are tens of thousands of such indolent people, the loss is that much greater. How could the common people provide for so many, and how could the state know peace? Your Highness may reflect upon all the many affairs of past and present and know that no matter of government poses so great a threat as this one. Those people who indeed have knowledge of the Classics and other texts, and those whose talents are suited to and needed for our cirumstances, should be placed in suitable positions which may be established for them. As for the others, let them plow for their own food and tend silkworms for their own clothing. This, too, is the natural order.

"Your Highness has sage virtue and broad insight, and your thirst for knowledge is so great that you 'seek learning from all, even those who merely cut grass and chop wood', so that none of your offenses are kept hidden from you. Formerly, your Army Advisor, Wang Xian, and your Councilor, Liu Ming, were both fully loyal and totally sincere in offering such words of remonstration to you. Although they may have touched some of your sore spots, this was never their intention. There were those who slandered them, petitioning that they had committed great offense and should be subjected to the law. Though Your Highness was forgiving and merciful enough to spare them from capital punishment, you still demoted them and barred them from further employment, banning them from the court. Their words were just the sort that Your Majesty most ought to accept; if you punished them so, you ought to have made clear for what arrogance or presumption on their part required it. If you seek honest advice but punish those who speak their mind, you would be like one who, wishing to go to Yue (in the south), heads north—you would never get what you wanted! Meanwhile, the Chief Clerk of the Right, Song Gai, and others of his sort are sycophants who would do anything to preserve themselves. They recriminate those who offer admonishments, at the slightest pretext; never delivering 'fishbone' remonstrations to you, they are jealous of those who do. Thus they seek to hide things from your ears and eyes, and are the epitome of treachery.

"Those who engage in the four livelihoods provide the resources of the state, and those who instruct and teach the people allow the state to flourish. More than anything else, those who are practiced in warfare or diligent in farming are the roots of the state; artisans and merchants are merely its branches. So only those people whose duties are critical to the army and the state should be retained in their offices, while the rest are sent back to farming. And those who, though studying the arts of war, have studied for three years without anything to show for it should also be sent back to farming, so that they do not fill up the great offices and thus block the way for intelligent and talented people.

"If the advice that I have offered here is good, I hope that you will carry it out as soon as possible; if it is not good, then may you execute me for my crimes. Thus may you demonstrate to the realm that the court heeds what is good like a flowing stream, while punishing evil rather than mingle with it. As for Wang Xian and Liu Ming, they are loyal ministers, and I hope that you will forgive their faults for their excessive remarks, and accept the bitter medicine of their devotion."

Murong Huang issued a command in response, in which he stated, 

"I have reflected upon Feng Yu’s remonstrations, and I fear that what he has said is the truth. A ruler requires the people for their state, and the people require grain for their survival. Yet although the farmers are the foundation of the state, the Prefects, Chiefs, and Two Thousand 石 salary officials do not honor the ordinances of the beginning of spring; they are negligent in attending to agriculture and they fail to encourage the people in their farming. Those who are especially lax in tending to their duties should be held accountable by law, in order to instill respect and discipline in their cities. Let the overseers look carefully into the local conditions and uncover the details, in order to report the full situation.

"The private enclosures shall all be abolished, and the land shall be given to those who have no farmlands or livelihoods. Those who are so destitute that they have no funds or resources at all and cannot provide for themselves shall each be granted one head of cattle. Those who have extra means and would like to obtain oxen from the state in order to tend fallow government farmland shall be taxed according to the old laws in Wei and Jin.

"The irrigation channels are beneficial to both the government and to private interests. Let the overseers maintain them as necessary, heeding the contours of the rivers and the landscape.

"The Central Plains have not yet been pacified, and there has been no end of military difficulties. Many people have thus been earnest and diligent in military service, so we cannot reduce the number of offices yet. Once we have overcome and pacified our wild and wicked foes, then more on that subject may be discussed.

"There are indeed numerous artisans and merchants. Let those who occupy assistant or subordinate offices or generalships be quickly sorted into the most critical offices, and those remaining be returned to farming. Students not engaged in teaching and instruction shall also be stripped of their positions and salaries.

"It is very difficult for a minister to admonish their ruler. Although some of what is said may be presumptuous, I should still put aside such things and only pick out what is good and follow it. As for Wang Xian and Liu Ming, although their crimes merited their expulsions, my pettiness is also to blame. I will restore them to their original posts, so that they may continue to reproach my mistakes. “Feng Yu has 'struggled with difficulty on difficulty', and proved that he truly understands the proper way to serve a ruler. Does the poem not say, 'no word goes unrewarded'? I reward him with fifty thousand gold. Let it be known both near and far: if anyone wishes to reproach me for my transgressions, let him not restrain himself, regardless of his status. Let nothing be held back."

Murong Huang personally conducted patrols through the commandaries and counties of his domain, and he encouraged and instructed the people in farming and silkworm cultivation. He also raised a palace at Longcheng.

At that time, a black dragon and a white dragon were seen at Mount Long. Murong Huang led a group of his officials to observe them, offering a grand sacrifice to them from more than a hundred paces away. The two dragons locked heads as they pranced and circled about, before untwining their horns and departing. Murong Huang was greatly overjoyed. When he returned to the palace, he declared a general amnesty within his domain, and named his newest palace Helong. He established the Longxiang (Dragon's Play) Buddhist shrine on the mountain.

Murong Huang appointed the sons and younger brothers of his great officials as High Students. He set up the Dongxiang School in the old palace, and he conducted the archery assemblies ceremonies. Every month he would go to observe the students, and test them to see who was superior and inferior. He himself was also refined and a good scholar, and would provide instruction; he took on his own apprentices, eventually reaching more than a thousand. He personally composed a work called the Grand Learning Sections, in the style of the Quick Mastery (by Han dynasty scholar Shi You, a compilation used to learn character writing and composition, similar to the later Three Character Classic), and he also compiled a work entitled Canon of Admonishments in fifteen chapters, which he used to teach his sons.

Murong Huang personally attended the Dongxiang School to test and examine the students there. He selected those who were most excellent and exceptional in interpreting the Classics and kept them as his close attendants.

During a long period of drought, Murong Huang exempted the common people from their land taxes.

Murong Huang abolished Chengzhou, Jiyang, Yingqiu, and other commandaries. He organized natives of Bohai commandary into Xingji county, natives of Hejian commandary into Ningji county, natives of Guanping and Wei commandaries into Xingping county, natives of Donglai and Beihai commandaries into Yuli county, and natives of Wu commandary into Wu county. All of these new counties were incorporated into the Yan princely fief.

Murong Ke attacked Goguryeo's city of Namso (Nansu) and took it; he left a garrison there and returned.

In the third year (347?), Murong Huang sent his sons Murong Jun and Murong Ke with seventeen thousand riders east to attack the Buyeo people, and they were successful, taking prisoner the king and more than fifty thousand of his people before returning.

Murong Huang once went hunting along the western borders of his domain. He was about to cross over the Yellow River when he saw an old man, who wore a cinnabar robe and rode a white horse. The old man raised his hand and gestured at Murong Huang, warning him, "This is no hunting ground. Prince, you should go back." But without telling anyone of what he had seen, Murong Huang crossed over the river, and spent several days hunting there. Eventually, he saw a white rabbit. He tried to shoot it from horseback, but his horse collapsed and injured him. Only then did he tell others what he had seen, about the old man and his warning. His attendants carried him back to the palace in a cart, and there he instructed Murong Jun on what should be done after his death.

In the fourth year of Yonghe (348 AD), Murong Huang passed away. He had reigned for fifteen years, and was fifty-one years old. When Murong Jun later became Emperor, he posthumously honored his father as Emperor Wenming.

[wildflower8281]

15 Things They Don’t Tell You About Leaving the Servidoras

After my grand letter to all of the sisters and superiors of the order back in 2015 (http://www.iveinfo.org/2016/03/letter-from-ex-ssvm-superior.html ,) I never really thought I would be writing to any group or former group of the institute again. However, due to the considerable amount of what I call “post-convent deprogramming” I've done over the years with former servidoras, (literally to this week!) I've felt moved to write again because it's just so noteworthy how so many women have experienced similar types of situations, both inside the convent and once they have left. The number of women I have helped in this province (about 15) is very small compared to the actual number who have left the convent in this province (50+ easy.) As you'll read below, it's often very difficult to reconnect or find former sisters once you have left. That number does not include the dozens of parents & friends of sisters or seminarians who have also reached out with questions and concerns from my original letter. What I wrote in that letter hits such a cord because it’s all true. It’s pretty simple. And folks find solace and relief when their concerns are stated aloud and their questions answered by an insider.

I've been home from the convent now for over 5 years and in that short time I have personally connected with at least 15 other women who have left the Servants of the Lord in this province and helped them to transition and de-program. All but one of these women were younger than me in religious life & were there fewer years than myself. (I was in almost 8 years, longer than most!) In some way, I feel a responsibility to help confirm their concerns and shake out the programming, and I actually enjoy re-connecting and holding that space for them. So many have expressed huge relief at being able to share stuff they've never told anyone or get confirmation on things they had a hunch were not ok, that happened inside. I'm speaking mostly about cult-like programming, behavior & manipulation, although sexual scandal is not foreign to the institute either (male and female branches, founder, all of it.) 

For those of you who don't know or have never read anything else I've written about convent life, my general opinion is that while we learned a lot of transferable skills & traveled to interesting places during our time with the ssvm, I do believe it functions as a religious cult. The order exhibits behaviors and mental programming that you will find across the board and any other type of cults (I don’t say this lightly. They check out - https://culteducation.com/warningsigns.html) Thus, the transition out of the order can be arduous, especially when it comes to learning how to de-program mentally. In the order, the programming is deceivingly wrapped up in sparkling divine concepts and holy ideals, so deprogramming often means rejecting even what once were tightly held spiritual beliefs, close to our hearts & identities. They play a tight game and they play to win.

So here goes: 15 Things They Don’t Tell You About Leaving the Servidoras

It’s long. All my posts are long. Each theme could easily be it’s own separate blog post. So, don’t think of it as a blog. Think of it as chapters in a book & enjoy! As always, thank you for reading & I’m happy to engage about any of these topics!

About You:

What’s the Schedule for This? There is no right way to do this – it’s messy and that is one of the best lessons! While most things in the convent and in the church were black & white, this journey is not! It’s not linear and it looks different for each person. There is no life timeline you need to be on & you’re not “behind” everyone else. You are on your life path that is exquisitely perfect for you. Enjoy it. Take your time. Breathe. Observe. Be grateful that you lived a few years in a really unique, really rare way. There is no rush to get anywhere – you don’t have to hop into a huge career, you don’t have to get a degree, you don’t have to date or get married (ever,) buy a car or a house or get credit cards.  What you label as a “transition period” in your life is actually just your life and as rich, important and meaningful as any other time, so take it in. Enjoy. Relax. Allow the new energy to settle into your cells. It’s all good, new and rejuvenating for you. It’s your life’s journey, just like everyone else’s. It winds, has hills and valleys, moments of clarity and joy, and moments of confusion. All of this is ok, healthy and normal. Embrace your unique journey. You are exactly where you are meant to be.

Rest!  In the convent, we never stopped. The schedule was full from morning till bedtime and having open, unstructured time was looked upon suspiciously. It will take some time to adjust to a slower, more open pace of life. It will feel uncomfortable! Rest includes sleep and leisure. Know that it's okay to get a full 8 hours of sleep or more, it's okay to sleep in and it's okay to go to bed early. Our bodies recover mentally and physically while we sleep, so getting plenty and quality sleep is crucial to feeling bright and ready for the next day. (Applicable to any human, not just former nuns!) Leisure is the second part of rest and it's going to feel really uncomfortable to have unstructured free time. Know that it's okay to lounge, take walks, doodle, read, people watch and even watch TV or listen to music! None of it is a sin, you won’t be wasting time. You have not had real mental or physical rest in a long time and your nervous system is probably still in stress mode – cortisol all over the fucking place! It takes a few months of settling into a slower pace of life for your body to breathe and relax. My best teacher in this area was nature. The pace and vibration of the forest, the flowers and the ocean helped my nervous system to adjust. So, bottom line is slow the fuck down and enjoy it! Your body will thank you, I promise!

Clothes? This may not be true for everyone, but my first experiences with shopping for clothes it was really difficult & triggering. After so many years of ignoring our bodies and our figures,and generally relating them to sin or negative programming, it was hard for me to feel comfortable in clothes that were more fitted or generally to give positive attention to my female figure. It was hard for me to look in the mirror and see my curves. It was very uncomfortable. I got a teaching job quickly, so I had to find work appropriate clothing. For the first few months I definitely wore turtlenecks and khakis! I have photos to prove! It's okay to feel like a fish out of water while clothes shopping (among other socially normal activities!) Learning to love and be comfortable with your body is a deeply personal journey. What ended up helping me eventually was discovering yoga and, again, being in nature. I've written about both on my blog, as well as my body journey in various posts there (http://wildflower8281.tumblr.com/archive.) Just know it's okay to cry and feel uncomfortable. The best thing you can do in those moments is feel your feelings, be with yourself and go shopping another day if you need to. The struggle and process is very, very real and there is no timeline.

Your True Fam. Find your friends from the convent who also have left, reconnect with girls in your class and share. There are things that only former ssvm will understand. Let’s be honest – we were in a cult together. While friends and family may listen and be empathetic, they have not actually lived the life with you. Only your former sisters have and there are things only they will understand. So, if you are itching to question or share something, and you wonder if others have also experienced this – find your girls and talk with them. Many former ssvm have shared with me that the fb group has been so helpful to reconnect with girls in their class. Also, the international FB group has also allowed girls to find friends they missioned with across the world or studied in Italy with. Re-connect and share. This is healing and often times fun! Granted some former ssvm are still die-hard fans of the order, so those people have left the group or have no intention of sharing. That’s ok. It’s their journey. The groups are here for those who want to use them.

Job/Career. I know at first it seems like you are behind or you don't have a lot of what the world sees as a ‘work experience,’ but in reality, the arduous, missionary life that we lived for those years was chock full of tons of skill-learning and adapting to different circumstances all the time. You have a zillion transferable skills!!! So, while you may not have a certain degree or career label, in most cases you can take what you've learned in the convent and make it apply to a job you are after. You have experience teaching, working with youth, cooking for large groups, event planning, musical experience, admin  & organizational skills, planning trips, retreats & camps, customer service, camping skills, sports, communication, editing and blogging and in many of these cases you can also do these things in Spanish! You learn to be a jack-of-all-trades, the longer you are there, so your years there are definitely not wasted by any means. So get those negative ideas out of your head and know that you actually have a very rich, varied experience, in many cases more so than most others who may be have been in one job for the past 2-3 years or who spent those years in classrooms.

My advice would be to tailor your resumes and cover letters to the specific job you are after. This may mean making it very obvious that you spent time in the convent as a Catholic missionary. Sometimes it really helps to drop #nunlife for a specific job, and sometimes it may be wiser to just say you were a missionary.  Use your judgement (new concept, I know!) It may mean making it less obvious that you spent those years in a catholic institution.

When I have applied for more secular jobs, I have listed the institute by the male branch name and just labeled it as missionary or youth minister. Learn to be savvy with the skills you list under that time as well: when I applied for the bookstore, I listed my years working with the IVE press, writing book reviews, translating and editing. I omitted that when I applied for the juice bar, and instead listed the event planning that I had experienced in. Learn to be savvy & a master of wielding words!

Take a Breather from the Church. It’s ok to take a breather from all things catholic & all things church. This of course is up to each person but if you feel the need to lay down some Catholic habits, rituals, anything we did in the convent or church life for a while, just to step back and breathe a little, know that that is totally okay! Many of us came from super catholic cultures, whether that was university or family culture and then we spent various years in an even more extreme version of orthodox, traditional catholic culture. The religious family is truly a catholic cult and lives on the extreme end of all things catholic. So, if you find yourself wanting to let go of a lot of the daily or weekly prayer habits, rituals, rules, etc., know that it's fine to do that and your spirit is probably asking for it. Living in the convent is like a sponge being totally saturated with the color blue. At first we love blue and we want to soak up all and everything of that color! But, when the novelty wears off, some of us never want to see blue again. So give yourself time to rinse off all of the blue, squeeze it out, dry off and breathe a little. You were saturated and soaked in one dense color for many years. It’s ok if you don’t want to see, think or breathe blue for awhile!

When I first came home, 

I literally stopped praying the office from day one, but I continued to go to daily mass and pray the rosary, as they were at first comforting rituals for me. But little by little I began to drop even those things and found my own way of relating to God and found a lot of comfort in being in nature. I know that I am an anomaly in this, but I actually have completely left the church and christianity at this point. Not in any formal way, except that I don’t buy into it anymore and have no desire to be a part of any organized religion ever really. Nature and my body/spirit are enough for me. Most girls who leave actually remain practicing catholics, which I always find fascinating! 

Bottom line, just know that if you miss mass for a months, or you stop praying the rosary, or you stop going to confession, that everything is going to be okay! Those things are all simply rituals and structures that the church has created for people to feel a part of their Institution. If you still consider yourself christian or catholic, that's fine and great, but know that you can still take a breather or a break to really examine your heart and your own spirituality, and relationship to God. It’s very much like going through a breakup. You were in a relationship for various years, one that consumed your life. It proved to be pretty toxic, so you ended it. A healthy person in this case would take space, time to heal, reset, explore life and self. Same idea, friend, same idea.

And, for the record, even though I gradually left the church and christianity, I have never once felt abandoned by ‘god’ or that my link to the Creator has ever been severed. I still consider myself a beloved daughter of the Creator, I still feel divinely linked to all of nature and very much cared for by the Universe. This also comes with developing a sense of love for self and a deep trust knowing that the universe, or God, or the Creator, will take care of you. That’s some deep inner shit that needs to be worked out in order to get there, but it’s well worth it! So, I'm here to give you permission to take a leave of absence from All Things Catholic, if your spirit is asking for it.

Dating! This definitely deserves it’s own blog post. (Disclaimer: I only have the experience of dating men, so this post is specifically regarding that. However, I know of women who have left who prefer women. I can’t speak to that process myself, but I applaud it!)  Learning to mingle and get to know men is definitely a sensitive and very personal topic for each. It also depends on how much dating experience you had prior to the convent. But, if you do anything in this post, do this: Get to know yourself first before jumping into dating. For the past few years, your identity has been wrapped up in ‘sister’ and in ssvm culture. Who are you outside of that label and that name? Who are you outside of that lifestyle? If you can't confidently answer those questions, it's not really time to merge yourself with another in a romantic relationship. Do the work of finding & creating the new version of yourself out here before getting lost in someone else. (Again, applicable to all humans. Mature, healthy people do not ‘get lost’ in someone else. They have their own identities and lives, and just share life together.)

If, however, you have found yourself, love yourself and feel ready to engage with guys, then I say go for it! Mingle, have coffee, do online dating, whatever is your pace. Just be completely yourself and know your boundaries. They will be different for everyone. They do not have to be what the church says. They only have to be what your heart and your body say. It's a great realm to learn how to listen to your gut and follow your intuition. 

I have learned that I really thrive in relationships and am grateful for each experience of them. They are amazing portals of self-growth and heart expansion. I would also say to keep your standards high and be very picky! You are worth a guys full attention and total respect. Anything less, drop it like it’s hot. lol.

Lastly and of extreme importance, educate yourself on STD’s and be fierce about honoring your body. It’s actually an awesome litmus test to decipher the men vs. the boys, te vas a ver.

Sharing Your Past. It’s up to you when you share your convent life with new friends. A lot of girls ask this question and my answer is really that it’s up to you. No one needs to know your past, but at the same time anyone who is a true friend will want to know and be able to hold that space for you. And, depending on how long you were in, it’s probably something you refer to often, so eventually it’s convenient if your close friends know, so you can be free to reference convent life as you need to. It’s good practice for learning to listen to your intuition – you tell people when and if it feels right for you. The further away I have gotten from my time in the convent, the earlier I’ve told people about it. But that’s just me. In the beginning, I still had in my head that it was kinda scandalous or bad, so I wouldn’t share it right away. I was a teacher for 4 years and only boss knew. (I didn’t want all the questions from other teachers and definitely not from all 300+ children!) I worked in a juice bar for 6 months and only told 1 co-worker. For me, it just depended on the level of closeness I would have with people. Here in AZ, it took me only 1 month of working at the Art Center to tell my co-workers, and only a few months to tell my yoga friends. More recently, the man I dated for a few months earlier this year knew before we even met in person! And he was utterly intrigued and fascinated by it! I have found the most people find it curious and interesting that we even entered the convent, but more than that – they find it brave and inspiring that we left. You will see! Just wait for it. Now, I’ll drop it whenever and I drop it much quicker than before. It takes time. But, definitely be discerning and be ready for the questions – or tell people that you’d rather not answer questions at this point. You make the rules now, Lady!

Books & Culture! One of the best things I can encourage you to do is get a library card and go wander your library for a few hours! Enjoy the freedom of looking and reading any books you want to and learn to do this frequently. In the convent, as you know, the books were only ever about catholic stuff. There was nothing else to read and we were not exposed to any other types of thought. Even if all you do is pick up some fiction stories or poetry or biographies of interesting people, go to your library, follow your curiosity and read a shit-ton! I still do this today and it is one of my foremost means of learning and leisure!

Secondly just go and do cultural things in your town or city! Whether that means wandering downtown, visiting cafes or museums, going to art installations or dance festivals, take in culture other than catholic culture! You have been saturated in only one culture from morning to night for the past however many years. You have lived and breathed only Kool-Aide (if I may) for all those years. There are other things to see and other ways to live, and it's fascinating to witness and learn about them.

About Them:

They won’t connect you to other former sisters. I have heard this from girls who have left who have asked about me specifically. I also have personally asked the superiors who I knew and lived with to share my information with girls who are leaving. It just doesn’t happen. One girl wrote me, “I asked Mother Mercy about you and I was brushed off.” This was just a few months ago! Mother Mercy was my provincial superior for most of my 8 years, and my direct superior for 3 when I was in Harlem. I was only ever transparent and helpful to her and the entire province. Now, they think because I wrote a letter that exposes some brokenness, that I am the Anti-Christ or something. Which to me is just awesome and hilarious. Anyway, they will not in any way share contacts of former sisters with you on your way out. You will only have their religious names, maybe their civil names if you knew them that well and you will have to navigate social media on your own to find them. Some girls don’t want to be found & that’s ok. So, if you know girls who are thinking of leaving, send them your info so they have it before they leave! Tell them about the FB group, send them my email address or name on FB. Despite my real efforts to build such a bridge – conversations & letters – the ssvm superiors will not support this in a public or private way. I’ve asked Sacred Heart in person and I’ve written to the superiors about this – why not create this bridge, share info, make the transition easier for those who leave? There is no response. So, until then: can’t stop, won’t stop. I just keep doing this work, one soul, one post at a time.

They will continue to ask for donations and financial support. The Institute has an embarrassing culture around begging and asking for donations. If you or your contacts gave donations in the past, know that the sisters will continue to reach out and ask, in some cases to the point of being really rude or insanely persistent. One former sister had to change her phone number because the sisters would not stop calling her or her family in order to obtain what used to be a regular donation to her mission. Money and gifts are a powerful energetic cord, so if you want to detach from the Institute in all ways, it is wise to cut off donations and gifts to them. They do not have a healthy culture surrounding that and, let's be honest, neither does the church at large.

Your money is better used to invest in yourself at this point - take some art classes, find a yoga studio, learn to salsa dance! You are worth that money. Later down the road, find an awesome non-profit to donate to and make sure you know how they spend your money.

They will cut you off. Again, typical cult behaviors. The Institute does not have the bandwidth to allow anyone, including former members, to be in their circles unless they continue drinking the Kool-Aid. Once you diverge from them or if you challenge the way they live, ultimately you are likely to be shunned or cut off. I would vouch to say that most former sisters who are still in good standing with the order, are also still super catholic and supporters of the institute.  For the majority who have left, however, usually that's it - unless we initiate contact and try to remain engaged with any of them, there is very little initiation of engagement from their end. Even though the constitutions say that those of us who have left are ‘still family and third order members,’ the actions do not echo these words and are quite contrary. If you ask the majority of sisters in this province, you will hear similar stories. So don't really expect friendships with sister's to continue for very long. Your lives will take very different directions - your mind and life experiences will expand and grow, you will evolve into new versions of yourself as time passes. Their life is basically on repeat eternally, maybe just in different settings. Your former sister-friends will be less and less interested in your new life, and you will be bored by her life that rarely ever grows or changes.

They will make you feel guilty or crazy. This is normal & is not about you. This definitely occurs in all of the cases. It seems to be part of the cult-like behavior. They go legit mental trying to keep their members and numbers up and any departure is like a grand failure and subsequent scandal – they make you feel guilty or crazy for wanting and requesting to leave. This is why they will suggest first that you go to the monastery, or to California, or to Italy to ‘rest and recover and pray.’ If, like myself and some others, you keep this decision to yourself until very near to the end (which I highly recommend,) your superiors will think you're having some kind of breakdown or making a rash and emotional decision. In many cases, including mine, they will drag it out and also make you jump through hoops in order to get the final okay to leave and actual date when you are able to walk out. My best advice in these moments is simply to listen to that little voice inside and continue to follow her. She is your true heart and will guide you with bravery and fortitude out of that place. I remember feeling like my conversations and steps leading out of the convent were some of my bravest moments, when I really learned to use my voice and speak for myself for the first time in many, many years. It was something very foreign to me, but it also felt like I was being true to myself for the first time in a long time.

Know that you are not crazy, you are not going to lose God's favor, go to hell or anything like that. All of that is cult and brainwash talk that the church and the institute use to convince people to stay. It's emotional abuse and manipulation. It is cult work at it’s best. There are various ways to shut this down mentally, but might I suggest simply repeating, "Fuck you, I'm leaving” and continue returning to that mantra in your mind, until you actually are out the door!

Your spiritual director will never suggest actually leaving religious life. This one is so tricky! He will aid you and discuss it with you, but you have to be the initiator of that conversation.  We are programmed to basically do whatever they tell us and to utterly mis-trust our own inner guidance system.  They are programmed (it seems) to never suggest leaving and so sisters (like myself) can go on for various years with "miserable" being our daily set point and the SD will still not suggest leaving.

For what it's worth - I had an amazing SD! I was lucky to have him throughout my entire religious life, from start to finish (almost 8 years.) This is very rare. He knew me up and down, I was utterly transparent with him about everything. And yet, even he did not suggest that I consider leaving, ever. When I finally came to the decision, I called him and said, "Padre, I think my time here is up. I think it's time for me to go home." From there, he did help facilitate and guide me, but the initiative had to come from me. I mean, I understand this somewhat - they don't want someone who left to say "Father suggested I leave" - that also sounds like it could get someone in trouble, but hell - if we are basically following their suggestions for everything else, why is it so wrong to suggest at least considering leaving?! It's not! It should be done more often and made a more mainstream thing! Dozens of men and women leave the order every year! (More probably should!) But, just know it has to come from you.

They have programmed you. Best for Last! Woot! Just learn not to fucking listen anymore! This is one of the longest lasting effects and struggles post-convent. Their mental & emotional game is terrifyingly strong. They play hard and they play to win. You have been programmed to think, believe, speak and feel like them. Realize this and sit with it for a good long while. The more docile your temperament and the longer you were in, the more deeply that programming was laid inside of you. I was the perfect specimen, so I speak from experience.

You will hear the voices in your head saying you can't spend that money, or you shouldn’t eat that snack, or you need to ask to take a break. Learning to ignore those voices and give yourself all the permissions is one of the best tactics for overcoming a lot of the mental game. You will feel that you can't do anything during your free time without asking, you will feel you need to ask in order to make plans with new friends, in order to talk to guys, in order to purchase items or to sleep in as long as you want. You will hear those voices a lot in all aspects of your life, so prepare yourself to get really good at ignoring them! Like really fucking good.

I’ve been out for over 5 years and still ask permission for things at work. Literally this week!  My supervisor knows my past and is constantly empowering me to make my own judgement calls for things that fall within my scope. I’m 36, 5 years out, done the work & this shit still haunts me sometimes.

I consciously stopped using words like providence, providential, generous, blessed, god and all the lingo years ago. I just stopped cold and never looked back. We all know if you sat down to a bunch of servidoras not in habit, you would know immediately by the way they spoke that they were ssvm. You can’t deny it. #cultlife

So, get really comfy with just giving yourself all the permissions for a good long time! Do whatever the fuck you want, whenever you want and with whomever you want! Shake it all out of your system and know that now, you are now the guiding force in your life!

[miss-noo-na]

The Boy King (Chapter 8)

Prologue / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Title: The Boy King

Genre: Royal AU

Rating PG-13

Your determination to prove to Jooheon that the princess was up to no good became your entire reason for waking up in the morning. Every second not eavesdropping and making mental notes was spent mulling over how exactly you were going to solidify this proof into something you could take to Jooheon, something tangible that he could not question. You almost felt smug, day-dreaming of the day he’d realize what an idiot he was being.

When you thought too hard about it, it stung, and that hurt seeped deep into your bones as you wondered why on earth he was so vitriolic toward you.  How could he go from being so sweet and loving to staring you down with disgust and refusing to look at you?

Granted, you had not left things on good terms, but your anger was completely justified, in your own mind. He had clearly been toying with your emotions, letting himself be so frivolous with your heart, not considering at all the eventual outcome.

Yet, you did have to take some responsibility for how it played out. You hadn’t exactly stopped him.  If he ever spoke to you again, you’d make sure to tell him that.

For now, you were looking out for his and the kingdom’s best interest by exposing this princess and her family for the rats they really were.

The princess had gotten more brazen in her requests, some of that absurd kindness slipping away as she got more and more comfortable on the castle grounds. She demanded more of you, and of course you had to go along, if only for what it could reveal to you.

Another lady of the court was visiting with her this afternoon, a Duchess she was on good terms with. The princess insisted, though in the middle of their high tea, that you file her nails. 

She handed the rough metal file to you and warned you not to make a single crack in her long, white nails. Her hands were bony, pale, and unusually soft, very much the opposite of your work-hardened ones.

You knelt at her side and concentrated on your task as the ladies chatted, and you tried not to make it obvious you were listening.

“Are you enjoying your time here, dear?” The Duchess asked as she picked up her porcelain cup and dish, sipping daintily.

“Yes, very much. The castle is simply divine, and the company is even better.” The princess said, and there was a slight smirk on her face.

“Oh? Have you and the king been getting along?” The Duchess said with her own sly smile.

“More than. He is absolutely a gentleman and the picture of true royalty, yet there is also something very earthen about him.” The princess mused, and you tried to concentrate on your task even more intently

“Earthen?” The Duchess let out a haughty laugh. “Praytell, how is a child of crowned heads ever so?”

“He is a traditionalist, yet at the same time undaunted to go against convention.  He courts me, properly, but he is not afraid of my feminine charms.”

You scrapped the file against her nails harder.

The Duchess cooed and giggled even more, sounding like a heated dove.

“Please, do not tell me you’ve lived in sin with this man.”

“Never.” The princess fluttered her free hand in a show of drama. “But I can say I’ve had a taste.”

The file slipped, and nicked across her finger. She yelped as a small, red slit opened up on her cuticle.

“You foolish girl!” She cried, pulling her hand out of your grasp and examining the cut. It was minuscule, but she acted as if she’d been maimed, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, my lady.” You bowed your head, standing up to fetch her something to bandage it with. You could hear she and the Duchess tsk’ing you. You’d like to think it was an accident, but you couldn’t be too sure. 

You brought her back the cloth to bandage it, and she snatched it out of your hands before you could touch her.

“Just go.” She huffed, and you bowed and left the room.

As much as you tried, you couldn’t get the images out of your head, the ones that sprang up there when you thought about her words.  It made you want to march over to the king’s quarters and give him another talking-to, but that wouldn’t help anything.

After dinner, a courier came just as he did every night, bringing documents to your guests during their stay. This was not unusual to you as castle business still went on even when they were gone, and it was not strange for guests to get correspondence sent between their home and their visitation spot.  Tonight, as you gathered up the tea cups on a tray, you watched the courier cross the room to the other man you’d heard engaging in conversation late at night, who you came to learn was the king’s constable. 

The constable sat at a writing desk, finishing a piece of parchment, and the courier waited patiently, a young gangly lad no older than sixteen. Once he finished, he  rolled the parchment, tied it, and handed it to the boy. He held onto it for a moment, and stared into his eyes.

“You know your duty.”

“Aye, sir.”

You quickly looked away before they noticed you’d stopped to watch, something about the interaction, which you’d never witnessed before, piqued your interest.

 Maybe these documents weren’t just the usual bore? Maybe they held something of importance, something you could use.

You took a few more nights to observe, making sure you were in the room when the courier came, and finding a reason to rush out when he left to see exactly where he went. On the 5th night, you hatched a plan.

You sneaked into Jooheon’s room when he wasn’t around, which wasn’t difficult, because he was never around much anymore.

You plucked a piece of parchment and string from his desk, taking it to your own room and desk. You weren’t well versed in word, chambermaids weren’t exactly expected to be literate, but you managed to make a fairly convincing dupe.

You cleaned up early that night, and then waited in the shadows for the courier, your parchment tucked into the pocket of your skirt. 

When you saw him coming, you rushed out from around the corner.

“Sir! Please wait!” You called after him, jogging as you did so. He recognized you from the times you’d crossed paths in the princess’ quarters.

“What is it?” He asked as he stopped in place.

“There’s been a mistake; the constable has sent you away with the wrong document.” You said, producing your faked parchment. 

“Here, this is the one you need.” You presented your hand with a friendly smile. The boy looked down at it for a moment, hesitant, but seemed to relax when he connected with your happy face.

“It would be most embarrassing for the king if this were to go to the wrong place, could you imagine?” You said with a put-upon laugh. Fear flashed in the boy’s eyes, knowing a punishment would be swift, even if it were not really his fault.

“Aye.” He said, handing you the parchment and taking yours. 

“Much obliged, dear sir.” You curtsied to him, and the young one was flustered for a moment, nodding as he turned to leave

You quickly tucked the parchment away and scurried off to your room.

Unrolling the parchment, you lit a candle at your desk and poured over the long piece of work for over an hour. It was difficult at first, but slowly pieces came to make sense to you, even if you couldn’t read every word.  Your mind could fill in the gaps.

It was dressed up in fancy language and business speaks, but it seemed to you to be the plans for the princess to make a return once her father and Jooheon had spoken further. It was being sent to another adjoining kingdom, one near the princess that shared land. It talked of sharing all of the riches, ports, and military they would stand to gain with this kingdom if all was to go to plan, and at the very end, thanked them kindly for supplying the assassin that had poisoned the former king.

You stared in shock for endless minutes, reading and re-reading as much as you could, trying to force your mind around the words you couldn’t read. Even without some of the pieces, the message was quite clear.

You rolled up the parchment and placed it into a drawer, and thought the rest of the night about how you were going to present this to a person who wanted nothing to do with you, nor believed a word you said.

The next morning you set about your chores, sick with nerves all the while. You kept peering at the princess, her father, and the constable from the corner of your eyes, your heart jumping into your throat whenever you heard them speak, as if any minute they were going to figure out what you’d done.

But all was at peace, and they were none the wiser.

You had to wait for the perfect moment, when you could truly have Jooheon alone. Maybe you shouldn’t make a big show of it?  The part of you that wanted to rub his face in it slowly faded when you considered what that document truly held; undeniable proof that his father had been murdered.

It was after dinner, and your last chores. You had stayed to watch the courier, wondering if he would make a comment to the constable about the night before, but as you stood to the side and observed, he was silent, just as he always was. You felt a wave of relief.

After you were relieved of your duties, you went back to your room. You looked over the parchment one last time before rolling it up and taking it with you as you crept out of your room and toward Jooheon’s.

You knocked lightly, and there was a long moment of silence. You were beginning to wonder if he’d heard you when the door cracked open. He looked surprised to see you, and not spiteful for once.

“May I come in, its urgent.”

He hesitated, but without words he opened the door and invited you inside.  Despite how he acted, he’d yet to ever completely shut you out.

“I have your proof,” You said as soon as the door shut, and extended your arm out toward him with the parchment. He narrowed his eyes and took it from your hand, examining it before walking over to his desk with it. The fact he was being so quiet was making you feel ill-at-ease.

He unraveled the parchment,  a nearby candle providing just enough light to view it. He could read much faster than you, and probably knew every word. After a few minutes you heard him pull in a chestful of air.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, but he didn’t sound angry this time.

“The courier, they’ve been exchanging messages every day that they’ve been here.”

You saw over his shoulder how his fingers grazed over the seal at the bottom, marking its authenticity.  You also saw how his hands began to shake and his breathing became ragged.

“Please leave.”

His voice was frail, trembling, like he was on the verge of falling apart. Though you didn’t want to, you bowed your head and left the room without wavering. You could not imagine the magnitude of what he was feeling, and you felt bad for all the awful things you’d thought about him.

It was difficult to sleep that night, you stared at the ceiling and wondered how Jooheon was, if he was okay, and what he was going to do now. Would he hate you even more for bringing him this news? For proving him wrong? Maybe he had actually wanted to marry this princess; maybe he had started to fall in love with her, and would resent you for taking that all way. Your heart hurt.

There was a faint knocking sound, and you thought it was the castle creaking in the wind or the sound of rats in the floorboards and ignored it. But, it came again a few moments later, a little louder.

You swallowed hard as you swung your legs off the bed and pressed your bare feet into the wood floor and made your way toward your bedroom door. Your mind raced, thinking that the constable and the king had found out, and they were here to put you in the stocks, or worse. Your mouth went dry as you gripped the handle and pulled the door open, just barely.

“Can I come in?”

It was Jooheon, sounding feeble. When you looked through the crack, his eyes gleamed in the moonlight that spilled through your window. They were glassy from tears, and his mouth pouted open.

“Please?”

[therebelwrites]

The Fight for Mixed People’s Right to Define Themselves

Despite what you have been programmed to believe, the most overlooked group in the U.S. is NOT trans, nor Black nor people with disabilities nor gay nor Muslim nor elderly nor immigrants nor Native American....

Despite all the hardships faced by the above groups as a collective, the one group that has not even a single commission crusading on its behalf is the community of individuals born of the union of BLACK and WHITE.

Essentially, they have been rendered voiceless; forced to always speak on behalf of Blacks but never the entirety of their ancestry.

(If you are wondering why I’ve specifically targeted only mixed individuals of Black and white origins, rather than Hispanic, Asian, etc., read my post, “Answer time with TheRebelWrites.”)

I have yet to hear anyone speak on the fact that mixed people haven’t even been able to declare their own identity. While Blacks may be at the bottom of the Western social hierarchy (despite being the most MIMICKED group on Earth SMH), we have assumed control over our own identity. (The simplest example of this is our re-branding and re-claiming of the word nigger, which was STOLEN from us to begin with.) Mixed people haven’t been afforded this luxury.

Why is that?? The simple reason is because they would essentially be shunned by one group and ridiculed by the other. They have been FORCED to accept the identity that has been declared for them, not by Blacks, but by the very creators of the system of racial hierarchy: whites. Historically, this was done via the infamous “One drop rule”. (What about the secret societies of mixed race elites that formed post slavery, you ask? Ridiculed by Blacks and largely weakened by whites, who had become threatened by their rising power. Just ask yourself: Where is this group today??)

By creating this rule, whites have psychologically removed their genetic footprint from the physical existence of mixed race individuals, literally forcing them to be BLACK--whether the affected individuals wish to be so or not. Today, mixed people are put in a position to where they are technically prohibited from identifying as white.

(Though people from Northern Africa can immigrate to U.S. soil and adopt the label effortlessly??)

Aside from this, most mixed-race individuals don’t openly declare their whiteness because they don’t want to risk rejection from Blacks--the only group that has accepted them and to which they have been assigned by the white architects of Western social structure.

Moreover, being considered Black gives them an identity that U.S. society refuses to acknowledge otherwise. Imagine the internet uproar that would occur if a Black person, who referred to a mixed person as Black, was countered with “I’m not Black; I’m also half white”. In most cases, the Black person would interpret the statement as a form of rejection of the mixed person’s Blackness; a way of diluting their painful history and aligning themselves with the group of higher social-economic status (white). The Black person may even assume traces of self-hatred being at play within the mental space of the mixed person. Said Black person would not necessarily be wrong in their assessment, as this psychological response is (and has always been) the basis of “passing” as white. Yet the mixed person, even if they were not ashamed of their Blackness, but simply exercising their ability to claim BOTH sides of their genetic identity, would still be eyed with suspicion by both Blacks AND whites, simply because neither would be able to understand their (the mixed person’s) perspective. Not to mention the white person’s inherent judgement of the fact that mixed people are NOT white--which is just a way of concealing the message that they really wish to convey: “you do not get the same PRIVILEGES as I do”. (This is why whites chose to categorize mixed race individuals as “Black” in the first place--to ensure that mixed people aren’t privy to the same world of privilege as they are.)

As I’ve stated before, Blacks often assume that mixed kids have it easier, but nothing could be further from the truth. While Black kids may be OVERLOOKED or intentionally NEGLECTED, in many cases, mixed kids are completely INVISIBLE. This is even more extreme for girls.

While teaching multiple subjects throughout multiple districts to kids of all ages, I’ve watched in sadness as the mixed kids were routinely ignored--by the Black kids, the white kids, the Hispanic kids, even the Asian kids. While teaching a fun (but difficult) subject in an after-school elementary program for a very diverse district, I noticed that the mixed students--who seemed to be eager to learn and who were learning very quickly-- would routinely miss class. I didn’t think anything of it until I casually asked one of the girls why she had missed so many classes, despite her skill level and the fact that her father had made a point to attend the first few classes with her. Did she need me to alter my teaching style? Had she been too busy with other activities to attend? (Educators don’t take lightly to losing their best students! lol) She shook her head and gave a faint, wistful smile. Minutes--and even days-- later, I noticed the source of her discomfort. When I would allow the students to choose their partners for the activities, NOBODY ever chose her. Ever. (This is painful to even recall :-( The white kids and Black kids and Hispanic kids either chose among themselves OR freely intermingled among groups, yet nobody ever wanted to do the activities with her. I once overheard her say to a white girl who had been completing an activity with a Black girl, and who I had assumed to be her closest friend in the class, “You always say next time. When are WE going to sit together??” Even oddly-numbered groups would wait for another student, rather than simply engage with her... Were these kids malevolent in their intentions?? Of course not. They were normal kids raised in a “diverse” neighborhood and attending a “diverse” school. The white kids and Black kids played together without incident. Yet the little mixed girl was put in a position where she simply could not win either way; she was not Black enough for the Black kids and not white enough for the white kids. It was heartbreaking to witness.

This is a ground-breaking assessment for multiple reasons. I’m willing to bet that most (non-mixed) people reading this post have never even considered this fact. I’m also willing to be that the mixed people reading this post have also either: 1) never considered the fact that they have never really been “permitted” to classify their own identity in the U.S.--chances are they were raised with even their white parent referring to them as “Black”, essentially negating their own physical connection to their mixed child --or 2) they have always contemplated this riddle only to make themselves push aside their own unease, for risk of angering either of the affected groups by choosing not to identify as simply “Black”! 

Imagine how activists such as Colin Kaepernick or Jesse Williams would feel if they were suddenly granted by the powers that be the status of “white” or “mixed race,” as opposed to always being forced to default to the “Black” box? After having wrestled with for many years and subsequently claimed their role as a Black citizen of the U.S.--to suddenly be told that they aren’t actually “Black” after all?? That they must, henceforward, always claim their white ancestry in addition to their Black, as per the new census statutes??

**As this is one of the few posts where I’m writing from a completely observational standpoint, I am willing to LISTEN to the words of affected individuals. (I do not mean white or Black parents of mixed kids, as neither group can completely understand the plight of their child, no matter how much empathy they dispatch. Even the fact that I SEE this does not mean that I, myself, could ever truly UNDERSTAND their struggle.) Teaching classes containing large groups of mixed kids over the past couple years has drawn my attention to their unique struggle (a struggle which even I had not truly realized before), which means that, like all hidden struggles, I must give VOICE to it.**

[vernon-luv]

Different - Vernon Series

admin k: my own work, new series I’m working on. tell me if you like it so i can continue it :)) 

genre: fluff, angst (in future parts) 

word count: 1.5k

paring: vernon x reader x other members

“Hey, I’m on my way.” You said on the phone, breathing a bit heavy as you rushed to get yourself to the stadium where the Seventeen concert was being held. “Okay, I have to go right now but I better see you in the crowd.” You could practically imagine Hoshi wink at you through the phone with a click sound of his tongue.


You laughed. “Hopefully.” You both say goodbye before hanging up. Surrounded my Seventeen fans, you did your best to stay calm and processed to make your way to your seat, in wait ofr the boys to come out.

Hoshi was a good friend of yours and you haven’t seen him for a while. You had different lives, he was a big kpop idol while you were an average college student in Seoul. Not that it was a bad thing that you were average, you did enjoy your life and nothing was horrible but…the one thing you wished you could have was Hoshi by your side.

You knew it was difficult for him to keep in contact with anyone, even his parents. You were luckily enough to talk to him at least a few times a month. You were thankful and never took Hoshi for granted and he had the same respect for you.

You were happy to be here and see him along with his members. Even though you didn’t enough concerts, you were still here for him.

To your surprise, he was much more excited to see you again than you had expected. After the concert, you met up with him at a cafe. His members came to say hi to you as well.

You had made sure to dress well as you knew, you would be meeting his friends. You wanted to make a good impression in front of them.

“Hoshi! The concert was great! You guys were amazing.” You said after giving Hoshi a tight hug that he had returned.

“It’s been so long Y/N! Wow, you’ve gotten prettier over the years.” He complimented and you laughed, slapping his arm playfully but thanked him and complimented him back.

It was just so different being in front of each other now instead of talking through text and calls.

You politely bowed to his members who did the same. They were all so nice to you and talked about how Hoshi has talked about you many times which made you blush a little.

Sitting down after the greetings, all of you had ordered your drinks and waited for them to come.

While waiting, you talked and at first there was a small awkward tension but after while, it felt as if you’ve known the guys for a while. You’ve seen them on social media many times but it wasn’t until know that you realized you knew quite a lot about them.

Even then, they still shared some things you’ve never known about them. Their personalities differ greatly from each member and in that way, you can easily tell the difference between everyone.

“Oh! So you’re around Vernon and Dino’s age!” Seungcheol said, pointing to the two youngest members, directing your attention to them.

Vernon sat beside you while Dino was on the other end of the table. You gave a small smile to Dino and head bow to Vernon. It was still a bit awkward with Vernon since he hasn’t spoken much since you’ve arrived.

There’d be times in the conversation where he would laugh along with his members which you found quite cute. His laugh was different, unique in a nice way.

You could tell he was at ease when he laughed but whenever you slightly glanced at him, it seemed like he’d tense up at the sudden attention you gave him. It left you feeling curious and distant from him.

It was different the other way around though. When you were engaging in a conversation or drinking your coffee, he’d be looking at you at the side and you could see him in the corner of your eye, you just wouldn’t say anything about it because you thought it would just make him feel embarrassed.

Why was it that he looked at you that way? What was it that he was curious about you? Was it because you were different from his members? The fact that you’re an average person? You had no idea why he looked at you the way he did but it wasn’t all that bad.

“Vernon…” Seungkwan called, snapping his fingers at Vernon to snap him out of daze. It immediately snapped him back to reality, turning his head to his members, he blinks blankly, unsure of what was happening.

You bit your bottom lip, putting you drink down and turning your head slightly to him, just to focus on what he has to say in the conversation but you also didn’t want him to feel pressured by you.

That didn’t work since he gulped and had no words to say. Wonwoo chuckled lowly before repeating the question to Vernon who then fumbled with his words when answering the question.

This continued for a while until you finally decided to end his misery by attempting to start a conversation with him instead with the others. You had a side conversation just with him. “So..tell me about yourself. I don’t know much about Hoshi’s friends. Even though he’s talk tons about you guys, it’s hard to remember everything with so many members.” You shot him a nice, warm smile.

Somehow, that just made him freeze up even more. “Um, c-could you excuse me for a minute?” He asked and you were confused as to why he needed to leave but you allowed him anyway.

Vernon left the table for a good few minutes which made things really confusing to you and you didn’t know what to do while he was gone.

When he came back, he apologized for leaving. “It’s fine.” You didn’t want him to feel burdened, you could tell he was feeling pressured. You were just trying to find the best way to keep him at ease.

“What were you asking me before?” He asked you to repeat your question and you did.

“Oh…well..I’m in the Hip Hop Unit and I’m the lead rapper. I’m from New York but I moved when I was really young so I don’t remember much.” He started to finally talk and you enjoyed hearing his voice.

“Do you speak English?” You asked out of excitement since you were a foreigner yourself.

Vernon furrowed his brows at you. “Are you…not from Seoul?” He questioned.

You explained that you had a similar past. You had moved to Korea when you were young as well but continued to speak English when you could.

“That’s cool. And yeah, I speak English. My mom doesn’t know Korean so I speak English when I’m home with my family.”

From there, your conversation just got better. The tension between you quickly faded and Vernon was much more comfortable around you.

Time past too fast once the two of you got along. Seventeen’s manager came, telling them they needed to leave.

It seemed like the time you spent with the guys was just too short. They felt the same.

“We should meet up again.” Vernon said in a very small whisper, shaking your hand. Maybe he would’ve done more, like hug you or something if there weren’t  fans and cameras taking photos of their every move.

They were all outside, watching but that was normal, for them at least. He kept a low voice, to wanting for any fans outside to start rumours or such.

You gave him a small smile before bowing again to everyone. “If you even have time.” You laughed lightly, reminding him of his different lifestyle.

I guess, for a second, he forgot that you two were different.

His smile faded a little and the sparkle in his eyes grew somewhat dull. What wa he suppose to say now?

“Vernon, we have to go. It was nice meeting you Y/N.” Mingyu said, waving to me and you said the same back to him.

You kept up a smile, waiting for Vernon to leave. He still stared blankly at you, as if what you had said earlier was a huge shock to him.

“I’ll text you Y/N.” Hoshi gave patted your shoulder with a huge smile and you smiled back.

“I guess..this is goodbye.” You tried to keep up your smile and bowed at Vernon. You didn’t want to show that you were upset and sad that you were leaving, so you kept up this fake smile.

Truly, you did like Vernon a lot, even in the short time you met him. The way you two connected was something special if you can even say that.

You wouldn’t say that you were falling for him but…he was something else.

How easily could you let go of him? It’s best to leave now before you have any huge wishes or dreams of even dating someone way out of your league with a whole different lifestyle from yours.

Even if you had a chance with someone like Vernon, it wasn’t a given fact that he would ever like you back. He was a big celebrity who probably has higher standards.

You were just an average girl, a friend of one his members, nothing else.

[allofusandco]

Alongside

with @eswareinmaleingrimm

A future, domestic thread.

Sean:

Sean arrived home before Nick; not exactly a rare event, but he was surprised nonetheless, since Nick had left the precinct earlier. He stood a moment, taking in the changes in his condo in the last few weeks.

He liked them, he really did. But it was a lot to adjust to.

He took a long shower, scrubbing away ‘Captain’ to reveal ‘Sean’. A long, hot shower. He sort of wished Nick was there with him. He smelled the sandalwood soap Nick used, that Sean had started to use, oddly enjoying the matching scent that very few would notice.

He dried off, dressed simply in jeans and a white t-shirt, and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

The strange thing was that it felt more like a home now that Nick was sharing it with him. As surprising as it was. He’d never so much as touched a man before, and now he needed and craved in a way that was both shocking, and awesome. Awesome in the true sense of the word; deserving of awe. He pulled ingredients from the fridge. Fresh vegetables, the basic ingredients for a béchamel sauce so he could prepare lasagna. Beef mince of a very high quality, very lean. He stared at the ingredients on the table and smiled, quietly, privately, because he never bothered to cook properly on his own, and had nearly forgotten he possessed the skill. He was enjoying it. With the acute stress at work, with the scalper, with every damn thing a mess, including the imminent birth of his niece or nephew and the inevitable fallout, anything that allowed him to find his center was a welcome distraction.

When Nick’s key turned in the lock, and the door opened, he glanced up, with a small smile. He wanted to say something like ‘where were you?’ or ‘is everything alright?’. Instead, he nodded. “Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

–––––

Nick:

Nick’s head was spinning.

Not so much from the lucky punch Monroe’s father had been able to land on his jaw, no. It was the look on his friend’s face, the tears he had seen in his eyes and heard in his voice as he’d asked him to leave.

He should not have done it. He should not have gone to the Blutbad, he should not have assumed Monroe was waiting for him to show up with yet another Wesen-case that he needed help with. That was not what Monroe was good for, he was a friend and Nick liked spending time with him. Away from the cases, away from the Wesen-world (as rare as that ever was), away from anything that reminded him they were supposed to be natural enemies.

He had seen the horror on Monroe’s parents’ faces when they had realized he was a Grimm, had seen the switch from annoyance to ready-to-murder, the instant woging, the fist flying at his face—

If he had known they were visiting Monroe, if he had known anything about the dinner they’d had obviously planned he wouldn’t have thought about showing up unannounced. He would have called, maybe. Or waited until the next day.

Monroe’s accusation had hit him hard, mostly because, for a moment, he had found himself wondering if Monroe wasn’t right about it. Because, from Monroe’s point of view, it certainly had to look like he only showed up when he needed help. Nick couldn’t even blame him. Which made everything a lot worse.

It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing he could do about it. Not this night, tomorrow, maybe. He’d call Monroe and apologize. He’d find a way to make it up to him, to prove that a Grimm and a Blutbad could be friends outside of the Wesen-world, just as people.

Speaking of people…

Sean would probably be waiting for him. In his apartment. Where they were living together. Temporarily. Until Nick found a new place.

It was a nice thought, actually, going back there. Sean was… it was easy, living with him. Very quiet. But not as quiet as when he was alone at his old place. He wasn’t alone and since it helped with the whole Regnant-Grimm thing—

It was nice.

And just what he needed right now. A beer, an evening spent in front of the TV, watching sports, a pizza… it sounded like the perfect end to a lousy day. The longer he thought about it, the more he found himself looking forward to it, so much so he actually stopped short when he opened the door and became aware of the smell of food cooking.

Whatever was going on didn’t look like a casual evening.

“Hey,” he said slowly as he entered, pulling the door close behind him. “I… uhm… yeah, glass of wine. Sounds good.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and slowly walked into the kitchen, accepting the glass of wine with a slightly curious look.

“Are we having guests tonight?”

–––––

Sean:

Sean’s smile faltered, and he looked at the chopping board in front of him. Was it too much? It was too much. He should have done something simpler. He should have ordered pizza. He should have…

“No, no,” he said. “No guests. I mean, I wouldn’t ask without making sure you didn’t have plans. Or wanted to…”

He rested his hands on the kitchen table, and raised an eyebrow.

This happened over and over. These tiny misunderstandings. Missteps. Sean had never shared space with anyone before, not like this, and the etiquette confounded him constantly.

Still, Nick seemed to be feeling his way as well, and they never misstepped too far.

He stepped out from behind the counter, finally registering Nick’s mood. Sombre. He rested a hand high on his arm, and stooped his neck, tilting his head to kiss him lightly.

He wondered if it would ever not feel so strange, and perhaps he hoped not. It felt right, but somehow miraculous, something he shouldn’t take for granted. Generally a good plan anyway, but he was determined. He wanted to keep this. Keep Nick in his life.

Another kiss, and he returned to his place, letting out half a sigh, and picking up the knife again. “It’s too easy, living alone, not to bother cooking good meals. I suppose I’m seizing the opportunity,” he said, hoping his smile met his eyes. “You look worried. Or… upset? Something happen back at the precinct?”

If it had been big, he’d have heard. So, probably Grimm business. Which meant he might share, and he might not. Sean didn’t like to push it, unless he had reason to worry, or thought he should try to help. They had an unspoken agreement about that. He could help, but only so much. Nick had to do things in his own way.

“Can you tell me about it?” Sean glance up, turning to light the burner on the stove, to heat oil for onions. “Please. I think… that’s part of… doing what we’re doing.” He smiled fondly, throwing the onions, garlic into the pan to cook.

–––––

Nick:

There was something about Sean that made you calm down the minute you were the focus of his attention. Every thought about the meeting with Monroe fled Nick’s mind as he stepped closer and their lips met. Such a small move, short, others might say formal and yet, for them, it was about as intimate as they got. He resisted the urge to lean into Sean, just for a moment, he didn’t feel comfortable admitting that he wasn’t feeling well.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, because he did, more than he would ever thought possible. And yet it was still difficult for him to let go of the cop and become Nick. Just a regular guy with a private life. And once he had managed this, there was always that one step further he had to take, to allow himself to think of Sean as… Sean… instead of ‘the captain’. There was always that moment, that second, where he hesitated- and then relaxed into it. He wasn’t sure if Sean noticed, if he did, he never mentioned it.

“Dinner is fine,” he said with a smile and he meant it. He was already feeling better and this looked like it could become a very relaxing evening even without the TV.

“I stopped by at Monroe’s to ask for help for the case and it turns out I couldn’t have asked for a worse time to show up.” He took another sip of the wine and slowly followed him into the apartment, leaning against the counter.

“He wasn’t alone, his parents were there. Once they figured out I’m a Grimm things got… intense.” He skipped the part with the fight, didn’t want to repeat how he’d been greeted with a fist instead of a smile.

“They’re traditional Blutbaden and apparently not happy about the friends he’s made.”

Is he even a friend?

The thought is there before he can stop himself and he winces, brings up the glass for another sip to buy some time before he adds, with his voice miraculously sounding normal,

“Perfect example for worst time, wrong place.”

–––––

Sean:

It was a strange realization, that they shared similar struggles. He’d gotten a taste of it on the plane on the way to Vienna, but somehow here, back in their regular day-to-day he felt it more acutely.

Sean genuinely liked Monroe.

Sean had a belief that Wesen and humans could co-exist peacefully. And it was so rarely proven true. But for a Blutbad to forgo meat, do yoga, keep himself calm, fall in love with a Fuchsbau… if he was honest he’d never said a single word of approval, to Monroe, but he respected him – and yes, liked him.

He’d never given a single thought to what his parents might think of his unorthodox lifestyle, but he supposed with the engagement things were bound to come to a head.

Still, the thought of them dismissing Nick on sight angered him. He clenched his jaw, as he scraped the meat into the pan to brown. Only a few moments and he’d add the curry paste.

“I feel bad for Monroe,” he admitted. “breaking the mold isn’t easy and most people don’t thank you for it. I have a great deal of respect for the man.” He added the curry pasted, diced tomatoes from a tin, and started to stir. As the spices sizzled, and the scent filled the room, Sean wished he’d made a greater moment of that kiss.

“I don’t believe many of my relatives would approve of our match,” he admitted, glancing up with a smile. “If they didn’t believe all of that rubbish about mate bonds.”

Truth was, Sean was glad he didn’t believe.

He had chosen Nick. Nick had chosen him. He shook his head, and took a sip of his wine, leaning across the counter.

“When you make a bold choice, you don’t do it for popularity points. Rosalee and Monroe are… as bold as you and I,” he finished, closing his hand over Nick’s for a moment. “You’ll figure it out.”

–––––

Nick:

Sean mentioning the mate bond made him frown for a moment. He had never looked at it that way. Sean was right, this was possibly the first time that traditions and believes came in handy for him. The first time that being a Grimm was more of a blessing than a curse because it allowed him to do what he wanted.

He still remembered the awkward moment when Sean had first mentioned it, back in Vienna. The first time they had talked about some ancient magic the majority of the Wesen-world believed in. The mate bond between a Regnant and a Grimm, two people belonging together for no other reason because of what they were. The complete opposite of what Monroe was facing at the moment.

Nick looked down at Sean’s hand covering his and it made him smile.

Neither of them believed in the mate-bond, the very idea that something would somehow force him to feel a certain way about someone else- it had repelled him very strongly at first. Especially since it was, once again, about Sean, too similar to the magic that had driven him and Juliette apart. It was difficult to allow himself to realize that what he was feeling was more than just a tentative friendship to him, but in the end it had worked.

And even when they were still working out their differences, even when he was still sort of struggling with with what exactly he was feeling, it was something he didn’t want to miss anymore.

“You’re right,” he said and looked up to smile sadly at him.

“To be honest, it wasn’t so much the Grimm meets Blutbad parents thing that ruined the evening, it was… Monroe believes that I don’t value him as a friend. He seems to think that all he’s good for is helping me with cases and I agree that it might have seemed that way just then… But it’s not true.”

He put down his glass, ran a hand over his tired eyes. Wasn’t it true? When was the last time he had visited his friend because they wanted to spend time together? Granted, ever since Monroe and Rosalee had hooked up, those moments had been few. With Nick concentrating on his work to escape his private life he didn’t really have as much time left, but that had to change. He flashed back to something Sean had said only a moment ago and suddenly he smiled. Suddenly it was crystal clear what he had to do.

“Hey, why don’t we invite them for dinner? You just said you have a lot of respect for him and Monroe loves food. Or… is there something in the Wesen world that I don’t know about that would forbid a Regnant to have a Blutbad and a Fuchsbau over for dinner?”

–––––

Sean:

Sean nodded hesitantly. The truth was he didn’t have enough friends of his own to relate well; he had alliances, mostly. The moments spent with Nick’s friends, even if they were usually work-related, were strangely enjoyable. But it was true, Nick didn’t seem to spend nearly as much time with Monroe as he had before; and he supposed it was partially because he was getting by in his Grimm duties so well on his own, now, and probably partly because of Sean, as well.

“Heightened emotions,” Sean said, wisely. “You might not spend as much time together as you did, but… he has Rosalee, and a wedding to plan…”

(He allowed himself a moment to wonder what could be done about preventing the groom’s side of the family from eating the bride’s side. And to vow he’d attend in uniform and full woge, if he was invited.)

“I’d give him some time, if I were you,” Sean finished. “Give him time to calm down, and for the parent issue to die down. Go back, apologize if you think you need to.” He sipped the wine. It was very, very good. Just a little spicy. “I imagine Rosalee is having an interesting time of it.” He shook his head.

The suggestion of dinner gave Sean pause.

One the one hand, he was quite sure he’d enjoy it. Rosalee was good company, now that she’d forgiven him for… well, Juliette. She had a look about her that suggested she would find a way to hurt him badly if he ever hurt Nick in that, or any other way.

And Monroe. It amused him to think he could count a vegetarian, yoga-practicing Blutbad amongst his friends at all. And they were friends. Right? Or close enough so it didn’t matter.

But…

It would be the first time they entertained as a couple. Each of these first carried with it a moment of sheer heart-stopping terror which probably never so much as reached Sean’s eyes. But they were there. Their quiet agreement that Nick should live in Sean’s condo for a while. The first time they arrived at work together. Every one of these things was enormous, for Sean. And he didn’t quite know how to express it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like it. Deciding to share his life with Nick was probably the first thing he’d done completely selfishly, for himself only. Not to improve his standing with anyone or to gain political clout. Nick was here with him now because they wanted to be together. But it was as if sea level kept resetting itself.

Sean smiled.

“Yes, let’s do that. On the weekend, assuming Monroe’s parents have gone. I’ve never cooked vegetarian food before, but that’s what the Internet’s for. I’m looking forward to it already.”

In a sweaty-palms way.

He stirred the curry in the pan. A few more minutes. He turned back to Nick, pulled him close, on impulse, enjoying the way their bodies fit together.

–––––

Nick:

“I know. It was a bad time to show up, but I had no idea his parents would be there. I hit his father, Sean. It was self-defense, but that’s not how you introduce yourself to your friend’s family. I guess I was lucky his mother wasn’t fast enough to attack me or it could have been worse…”

What was he even saying, he’d ruined the moment, one hit more wouldn’t have made a difference. Sean was right, he’d just stay away until Monroe’s parents left town and then go and apologize. Maybe call Rosalee and talk to her about it, maybe she’d know how to handle this.

“You’re right. I can’t change what’s happened. I’ll apologize. Over the phone, probably, if he’ll listen to me. It’ll be okay once it’s died down.”

He took a sip of his wine, then put the glass down, closing his eyes as he reached up to massage his neck for a moment. He was tense, more tense than usual after a week like this, yearning for a day or two off to rest.

“Sounds great,” he said softly, then allowed himself to lean into the embrace.

Sometimes he wondered when he would stop feeling surprised whenever something like this happened. He couldn’t seem to get used to it, it was always a weird moment when Sean reached out to him, pulled him close or started to kiss him. Nick always went with it, never hesitated to lean close or kiss him back, but there was this moment of wonder, of is this really happening?

It was the captain, he supposed. They’d been working together for years and even when the Grimm thing had started and they’d become sort of friends, they’d always remained Detective Burkhardt and Captain Renard. It was difficult, probably for both of them, to just leave all the distance behind and accept the other as a person.

Or maybe it was just him since, most of the time, it was actually Sean who reached out and Nick who let it happen. It was confusing, but it was also new and exciting and everything he had forgotten a new relationship could be.

Even when he wasn’t sure that this, the reluctance, the holding back, was really him. With Juliette it had been so different, he’d walked up to her, pulled her into his arms, kissed her without ever thinking about it, but, for some reason, it just rarely occurred to him to do it now.

Maybe it was time to change that.

Before he could change his mind, Nick pulled back slightly and looked up at Sean who was keeping an eye on the pan and seemed to be lost in thoughts. Nick smiled, then leaned closer to press his lips against his jaw, enjoying the smooth skin.

–––––

Sean:

“I think when a Blutbad comes at you, you really should fight back, no matter who it is. I doubt Monroe will hold it against you. Really.” There was a trace of mocking in the tone; they were, after all, natural enemies – did Nick think he should duck and weave while trying to explain that he was a good guy Grimm? He doubted sincerely that old-fashioned Wesen like Monroe’s parents no doubt were would be sceptical at best, and the evidence had borne that out. “You really will work it out.”

He smiled, as Nick kissed his jaw. These unguarded moments where what got him through the harder parts of this very unconventional relationship. Most of which were completely in his head. He felt Nick’s stubble against his own smooth cheek, and gave a half smile.

He didn’t comment. He just took it all in. Sometimes, commenting seemed to chase these moments off, and he didn’t want that.

Later, perhaps, he’d offer to work the knots out of Nick’s neck, so he’d get a good night’s sleep. His hands seemed to find their way around Nick’s body so well, find the places that hurt and ease them, find the places that made him moan. Not to be thought about just then.

He caught Nick’s hand briefly, so much smaller than his own. He smiled warmly, and returned to the food.

I little while later, they were side by side at the dining table, knees bumping, elbows touching, talking about more pleasant topics. It occurred to Sean that with Nick in his life he felt calmer, and wondered if he’d ever find a way to convey that. Perhaps not; he’d never known him any other way, not really. The calm, controlled police captain, the fierce Wesen; who knew what anyone saw?

It was hours later, curled around Nick’s body in the dark, listening to Nick’s deep, even breaths, the rhythm that told Sean Nick was deeply asleep, that he found a way to comment. And even then, he nosed against Nick’s ear, and murmured ‘thank you’. That was all.

~complete thread~