#and the worst thing is..... we cleaned one rug yesterday and one today

[running-in-the-dark]

I got rug burn while cleaning a rug today. at least it's funny, I guess 🤷

[backscar-archive]

whats astarion’s rs with his siblings….like i mean specifically does he have a favorite. a least favorite.…that sort of stuff

You know this is such a good question because I've been thinking about it since like yesterday and all day today. From what we know and from what we understand, Astarion doesn't really talk about them all that much, it's prompted but he doesn't go into explicit details about each six individual spawn. What he says is his general go-to guilt, his sincere worry and wanting nothing for the best. It's a little thing he sweeps under the rug unless asked about. His main focus is just Cazador and the revenge he so desperately wants and needs as we learn more about Astarion and his "family". Though I'm sure after your little visitation within Cazador's castle, you'll understand that it's not as great as you might expect. I highly believe that the spawn are often challenging each other on who the best one is; it's why Leon and Violet are the most favored. They take what they do serious and the more we realize... the more we understand that they do their chores very well. In short, they get the job done without a mess to clean. Violet and Leon do not trust the other spawns, Violet seems to be more on the lookout for herself rather then the others. Leon, you realize he's only ever doing his best because of a daughter that he doesn't know is dead. He even explains that he doesn't like the way Violet looks at Victoria (which is his daughter laksfjaskf). It wouldn't surprise me if Cazador had put each spawn up against one another to form some sort of conflict which I believe often happens when one is getting too friendly or trusting. There is, however, a couple of spawns that I really do believe had looked up to Astarion and cared for him in a way in their own twisted narrative.

Pale Petras and Dalyria. A lot of people believe the two to be the eldest or youngest but I do see the two of them being the youngest out of the seven. Petras being relatively younger and Dalyria being just above him. It's clear that Astarion had more of a softer spot for Dalyria as he often called her "Dal" and Petras, well... the poor fool was held down in the sun by Astarion. The more I do think about it the more Petras seems like that of a little brother who often tattled on Astarion for every little thing though instead of not doing the dishes it was if Petras didn't do his job correctly or if he forgot something. Dalyria only tended to Astarion's wounds for a short period of time before she was forced to stop altogether. Forcing to watch the next time Astarion was sent to be tortured. Despite it all, however, Astarion did care for the two then he did with the other four. Only because they were merely, as you called it, the runt of the litter.

Petras seems like that of a little brother who often tattled on Astarion for every little thing though instead of not doing the dishes it was if Petras didn't do his job correctly or if he forgot something.

Piggy-backing off of what I said earlier, we also know of the most favored ones; Leon and Violet. No other spawn had gotten the worst out of it than Astarion and the six knew. It would not surprise me in the slightest if the others had thrown down their own excuse and finger-pointing directly at Astarion because they knew he was on Cazador's shitlist. Astarion, in no way, was ever the favored. He was favored in getting tortured. Every little thing he did was criticized and beaten into. Oh, we already know of his least favorite; Leon and Violet. Violet was the worst to often rub it into the face of Astarion and the others that she gets to sleep somewhere comforting. Leon hardly spoke to the others, often told Cazador of plans that were being made against him in conspiracy. If I were to say anything and you've already said it, the most familial out of the six were that of Pale Petras and Dalyria. And Astarion, no matter what the problem may have been or if Petras had blamed Astarion; I do believe Astarion would take the mistreatment if it was to be on him.

[chinahatbeach]

Thoughts for Today

Friday. Aloha Friday…… I am looking forward to the weekend. Big plans….. nope. Taking a nap, maybe. I just have today to get through and then, the couch calls my name. A hot cup of tea, snuggly blanket, and my doggos.

Yesterday was a tiring day. By the time I got home, had something to eat, and watched a bit of tv, I was done. Somedays wear you out more than others.

I find that the one company I work for grates on me. They are so unorganized. I asked for Comet cleaner in December and finally got it last night. My new boss called me to tell me that a fellow from the company would make a delivery to the jobsite. I was across the street working at a different company and cleaning there. The fellow showed up with two bottles of Comet liquid cleanser. I shall use it sparingly as I have no clue if I’ll get any in the near future.

Today’s adventure is cleaning for a new customer. She had broken her hip and can’t do things. She has 5 or 6 cats and can’t clean the cat litter. Think about that…….and use your nose for those thoughts. Hazmat suit comes to my mind. I’ve cleaned cat litter that was more like cement. Take that litter pan outside and put the whole mess in the garbage can. The garbage man would have a hard time lifting it. Cement I tell you. Urine odor. Tootsie Rolls of epic proportion.

Over the years, I remember the jobs that would make most people gag. I have a top ten of putrid homes. Most of those came along when I cleaned apartments for a living. Oh, the sights I have seen.

Number one worst was Alice’s townhome. She was a neighbor of ours when we lived off of Mahama Way. She had mental issues but was the sweetest lady. She had cats and a dog. The cats peed up against the kitchen cabinets, the walls, and most everywhere. The rug stuck to the molding along the wall due to the amount of pee. The washer leaked and ruined the floor. The stench was overwhelming. No one else would work for us to help us remove the carpeting and do needed repairs. And we also had another person who lived in another townhome who lived with two dogs who urinated and pooped all over the downstairs carpeting. Her downstairs toilet leaked and was sinking into the floor. Her refrigerator had an ungodly amount of black mold. And these folks never notified management of any issues.

I’ve dealt with poopy diapers left behind when people moved out. I’ve seen maggot ridden food left behind. Plugged toilets…. apples do not flush. Tooth brushes and toys do not flush.

After typing up about those horrid jobs, I should write a book on the horrible things I have seen. It would be titled, “Why Clean Your House?”

At least I haven’t found dead bodies at homes but then again, anything is possible. One apartment manager told me his horrible story of having a tenant who was a great tenant…… she always paid her rent before it was due, never was loud, but……….. one day she just moved and didn’t say a thing. He didn’t get her rent and wondered why. After the necessary time and paperwork filed, he went into the apartment. Dead cats and a dead dog. Knee deep worth of poop all over the entire apartment. The oven was left open and a dead cat was in it. He told me it took him a week of working eight hours a day to remove the filth. He had to change his coveralls nightly due to the stench he picked up.

After you have just read some of the horrendous things I have seen, you know why I like things neat and tidy. I watch YouTube videos on how to clean more efficiently. There are great videos on how to make your own cleaning products. I love using lemons to clean along with lavender. Baking soda is a great cleanser and it doesn’t have a scent. Scrubs up stuff very well. Dawn dishwashing liquid is a favorite. A drop of it along with vinegar and water does a great job. And no, I don’t use newspaper to wash windows……. I don’t read newspapers and I find it to be more mess than it’s worth it. I do dilute Windex as it’s too strong and you don’t need it that strong. My favorite products are Dr. Bonner’s Soaps and cleaner. They have one called “Sal Suds Biodegradable Cleaners”. One tablespoon per one quart of water to clean with and it does make a lot from one container. One half of a teaspoon per gallon of water to mop the floor. Why spend money on fancy stuff that wastes money.

Well, I better go and get ready to hit the trenches of dirt and grime. If you have questions on how to clean something, send it. I like saving other folks money and help them do the dirty work. But then again, I like getting paid to do the dirty work. Nothing feels better than to revive a dirty shower and see it sparkle.

And that’s the way it is………….

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 17

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 18

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader)

Chapter: You finally make contact with the Avengers again but everything is not as it seems. Or rather everyone.

Word Count: 1928

A/N: the next 2 chapters are more “Move the damn plot, Mee!” than “yes, brain! Deliver some flowing, symbolic prose!” I’m not thrilled about it either, but here we are.

The village was small. Hearty in the way towns are that have crawled out of the wilderness, just barely keeping the wild at bay. It was rugged and worn, and if you’d been there by yourself, you’d have passed right through without marking it.

Bucky pulled the creaking truck beside one of the larger single-story buildings. You’d have guessed the shutters hadn’t been painted since they were installed sometime in the late 1960s. The windows were probably last cleaned around the same time. The concrete wouldn’t need painting. No, eventually it would crumble into the dust whence it came.

For now, the entire side of the building had taken on a soft brown patina; decades of road dust streaked grey with the steady drip of melting snow and ice. Most couldn’t have picked it out of a line-up from the other buildings. Nothing distinguished this one as a government building except the sign in the filthy window of the door advertising its hours of operation. You doubted very much if their adherence was strictly enforced.

“Only library with wifi for the next hundred miles,” Bucky had told you as he gassed up the truck for the drive. You’d yawned and handed him a coffee in a white styrofoam cup. The liquid was black and cloudy as the sky overhead. Even the 3 creams you’d dumped into yours had done little to brighten the stale, hefty brew.

The library door groaned when Bucky drew it open for you. Not the gentle squeak of a place welcoming a new guest. No, this was the deep angry howl of a door stubborn and calloused in its disuse. The woman scowling at you from behind the counter stood as the physical embodiment of the very sound. Grey wisps of hair tumbled out of a hastily tied knot, a worn and grease-stained flannel hung on heavy shoulders over top of a fading wool knit. The collar had begun to fray long ago, as had this woman’s patience.

“Hi.” You offered as pleasant a smile as you could find, a customer service smile, though you were the customer.

The frown didn’t budge one millimeter. Her eyes though, turned to Bucky when he stomped heavy boots on the rug at the door. Muddy slush from the day-old snow dropped off his boots in clumps.

“Please wipe your boots outside,” she scolded.

“The snow’s right up to the door—“

Her head snapped and her eyes burned with the sort of anger only a stern teacher could conjure.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded before cracking the door just enough to knock his boots on the brick wall.

“Do you need somethin’?” she asked you. Not, ‘Can I help you?’ Not, ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’ Not even a, ‘Are you lost?’ This was a terse, ‘Honey, I know you’re lost and I know trouble. I want nothin’ to do with either.’

“Yes,” you jumped forward, matching her eagerness to rush you out. “I’m um… I’m not from here and—“

“Well I can see that.”

Bucky stepped in then, a scowl as deep as her own. He turned it down on you though. If you could kick yourself, you would. One of his rules of being on the run – don’t give away unnecessary information. Not who you are, where you’re going, who’s coming for you, not even what you need. Be nondescript. This was a difficult rule to follow when you were a nervous talker, when your sympathy scale was off the charts and the best way you knew to communicate was to connect in a personal way.

“We need to use your computer,” Bucky said simply. “You have internet here?”

She pointed to a back corner of the building. “Yeah. We even have indoor plumbing,” she grumbled.

“Well, she hates us,” you fidgeted, leaning close to whisper at Bucky’s shoulder as he led the way toward the computers. “You remember people you hate. She’s going to report us or something.”

Bucky chuckled as he looked back at you. “To who?”

“I don’t know… a Mountie? Loki could be anywhere right? Anyone?”

“Loki is from another planet. He’s not Interpol. There’s no hotline running for us. Far as she knows we’re a couple on a fishing trip.”

“Really? You don’t think she’ll remember us?”

He shrugged, pulling a chair over beside the one he took in front of the computer. “She wouldn’t have remembered some idiot who forgot to wipe his boots. Probably gonna remember ‘I’m not from here, please like me,’” he teased, donning a high squeak of a voice.

You smacked his arm with the back of your hand. “That’s not what I sound like.” A glance over your shoulder at the woman unfurling a cough drop at the desk. “She just looks so unhappy. How many  people smile at her in a day, you think?”

“Not enough,” Bucky agreed. Grim places made for grim people. Harsh living and meager needs made even the softest people harden at the edges. Necessity, he called it. Survival.

“See. I might be the weirdo that cowered at the library door, but she’ll have a story to tell her partner when she gets home. Bet she’ll laugh about it.”

Bucky chuckled, sparing a glance over to you as he booted up the software. The computer was ancient and it made a dissatisfied grinding noise at the request.

“You laughed at least,” she nudged his shoulder with her own.

“That wasn’t a laugh,” he argued, failing to stifle a grin. “That was a… a snort at best.”

“Oh come on. There was at least a chortle.”

“A what?”

“A chortle! Look it up, we’re in a library. Ma’am!” you hollered, turning over your shoulder and waving.

“Knock it off!” Bucky laughed, reaching for your arm and pinning it to your side.

“Ma’am, could you point my friend here toward the dictionaries, he needs to look up a word—Umpfh!”

He’d clapped a hand over your mouth, the other still firmly wrapped around your arm, enveloping you thoroughly.

“No, we’re fine with the computer. Internet, so helpful,” he hollered, over your muffled chuckle.

The soft tickle of breath on his hand, the gentle shake of your laughing shoulders set off that warm, brightness in his chest. He was smiling down at you as he let go.

“Well I definitely got a smile, at least,” you nudged when he did lift his hand away. “You don’t smile enough either.”

“I smile.” His brow crinkled, like he wanted to scowl, but then… he would be proving your point. So he kept a half a smirk on his lips.

“Well, yeah, everybody smiles sometimes. But you rarely,  and you never laugh—“

“I do too. I laughed yesterday when you fell on the stairs.”

“That was rude. You didn’t warn me they ice up like that.”

“It was funny,” he shrugged. “You looked like a cartoon. You should’ve seen your face.”

“You should see your face, Sir Scowls-A-Lot.”

“Scowl?” His eyes went wide and the smile threatened to erupt into an astonished laugh.

“Yes. You have the worst case of RBF I’ve ever seen.”

“What the hell is RBF…?” he wondered. But by now you were talking over each other, arguing and laughing all at once.

“People say, ‘If looks could kill…’ but, really. When you’re grumpy it’s like… if looks could kill, gimme Captain America’s shield because, nothing could stop those silver bullets.”

“It’s not that bad,” he rolled his eyes, typing away on the keyboard.

“It is. I mean, it’s fine, it’s a good looking face, so it works. But it’s a definite scowl.”

“A good looking face?” His entire visage lit into a grin now. His grey eyes were sharp and glittering like the cat that got the canary.

You were suddenly, glaringly aware that you’d been carrying on about all the little looks you’d noticed about your indefinite bodyguard all while you were still pressed tight against him from shoulder to hip. Heat flooded your cheeks and nose and throat at a record pace as you scrambled for a proverbial ripcord.

“Oh, you know you’re handsome.” When had denial ever worked for anyone? Misdirection, was clearly the way out. “Don’t act like I’m the first person to tell you that.”

He was still as marble for a long moment while you picked at your nails. The grin had dimmed a little, no longer a beaming mischievous thing, it had settled to a gentle warmth. He was Bucky again, the one who carefully assuaged your fears, who listened, who made eggs when hot pockets wouldn’t do.

“No,” he agreed finally and you looked up at the sweet softness of his tone. “First time in a long time it’s mattered to me, though. For some damn reason… I care what you think.”

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony’s voice thrummed angrily through the computer’s speakers. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Bucky took a sharp breath, deep into his lungs, breathing in the last of the stillness between you and taking it with him when he turned to the monitor. “Yeah,” he said and then he was talking to Tony. Something about a Doctor and the big bang and some powerful stones. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky.

Tony was irritable. Fuming, actually. The “doot-doot blub-blub-ting doot-doot” of the videocall ringtone repeated again, fueling the inferno. Waiting on technology was not something he was accustomed to. Waiting for inelegant, vulnerable technology that was too old to exist to project an image of the inside of his offices out into the world, well that would have been an a resolute No before today. But his teammates are nothing if not stubborn. Barnes most of all.

“Finally!” he sighed, leaning forward and peering at the image. “Why is it so grainy. I can’t… That’s a terrible picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Dr. Strange deadpanned beside him.

“No that can’t be it. Connection’s bad or something. They can’t even hear us talking!” He began waving haphazardly at the screen, hoping to catch the eye of the soldier or the stone-keeper.

That’s when he noticed what was actually on the screen. Bucky’s arm around you, tightly. A laugh. The goddamn Winter Soldier, your guardian for this mission, looking down at you as though he…

“Holy shit,” Tony mumbled, leaning closer. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, you have to allow the app to access your microphone,” Strange rolled his eyes, entirely missing the point.

“Hey, Rogers?” Tony called just as Steve strode into the room, slightly out of breath. “I think your bestie has compromised the mission.”

His eyes were glued to the screen as Steve leaned his shoulder with a hand on the desk to get a closer look.

“Indeed,” he hummed through a grin as he watched the screen.

“What?” Tony frowned up at him.

Steve shook his head minutely. “Bucky’s fine. He’s only ever failed one mission. And I’m not this mission.”

Tony’s frown never lifted as his eyes darted over Steve. Doubt clouded them for but a moment. He hammered a quick line of code into the digital projection of a keyboard and swiped the screen away.

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony asked after patching the room’s audio systems through to the rudimentary video conferencing software. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Not a second later, Steve – or rather Loki projecting himself as Steve – noticed a slight shift in the cameras in the room. One after another, they made slow sweeping turns until he stood squarely within each and every frame.

Part 18 >>

[borhap-au]

Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

A blue day. 

It took a lot from you to actually get up from the bed and check your phone after you heard several messages coming in. For you, it was one of the blue days. You were strong, trying to deal with everything, but it kept piling up and finally it was too much. It just overwhelmed you. You spent the entire day in bed, under your blanket, without caring to change your clothes from yesterday or wash your hair. You just physically couldn’t make yourself do it. So when you saw a few messages from Joe, saying he’s going to come to your house in the evening, you immediately panicked. You didn’t want him to see the mess that was your room, or the mess you were that day. You didn’t expect anyone who didn’t struggle with depression to understand what you’ve been going through. You knew a lot of them would never do anyway. For some of them, you had everything they wished they had. But it was just the surface. Sure, among other things, you had a handsome, caring boyfriend, who was just a dream come true. But in all honestly, despite the fact you loved him very much, you couldn’t really gave all of yourself to that relationship. You were full of fear caused by the depression – you were scared that you weren’t good enough for him, that he was just wasting his time with you, that he was a source of jokes because he had such an “awful” (in your mind) girlfriend. You thought that either he’s going to realize how unfortunate he is to end up with you and leave, or he’s going to get stuck with you forever and be unhappy. Either of those broke your heart. So what you couldn’t admit to Joe, but what you had considered in the past, was deleting yourself from his life. You thought that’s the only way for him to let go of the burden and finally be happy. You never said that out loud, but Joe was suspecting it might’ve crossed your mind. So when you sent him an emoji of a blue heart (a code you had, for telling him you’re having one of the blue days, but you love him and don’t want him to be worried, that you just need some time alone) he wasn’t planning to leave you to your own devices. Especially since was scared you would choose a razor blade.

Joe understood your struggle, at least from a perspective of a person who wasn’t dealing with similar problems himself. He was the second person you were the most open and honest with, right after your therapist. He knew you, the real you, and he loved you for who you were, which was almost completely unbelievable and impossible to you. It took you a long time to open up to him, but when you finally did, you felt a bit better – especially after he didn’t leave you, he kept coming back, talking to you, trying to help you. He was good at finding “small” solutions – things you usually did for a few hours, but they had a lasting effect, with you going even as long as a week without having bad, overwhelming thoughts. He bought you an aquarium with several different species of fish, since you loved animals. Observing them made you feel peaceful. He also took you on a road trip, where you could cut yourself from everyday life and have some vitamins from the shining sun. He made you laugh by having various funny and sometimes weird ideas. He let you put make up on him to practice, you both used colorful foam to make your hair have crazy colors for a few days. You sometimes pranked people together. He overall could just make you laugh, which at times was almost impossible. You usually didn’t fake anything around him, and that was really important and refreshing for you. But as it is with depression, after the good days come the bad days, and today was unfortunately one of the latter. You sighed quietly when you saw his text back.  

“I’ll come anyway. I just missed my girl too much,” you put your phone away and almost cried as you began to clean up your room. It was just too much for you. You felt helpless and unable to do the simplest tasks, the emotional pain was taking over the control of your body. You sat on the floor, trying to come up with any excuse that would persuade Joe not to come. You didn’t feel that bad in ages. You knew you will have to fake your happiness not to concern him, but today it felt like too much to ask from you. You just didn’t want to pretend.

Before you came up with anything that could make Joe stay at home tonight, he was already at your door. He knocked on it, and you jumped surprised and scared. After a second of bringing yourself together, you told him to come in.

“Hey… Your mom let me in,” you nodded hearing that. You looked down. Didn’t want him to see the make-up you had on from the previous day, or that your eyeliner was all over your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess. You were wearing just a simple tracksuit. You had no energy to get up, so he sat next to you.

“Please, don’t. I stink,” you muttered quietly, moving away from him. Only then you saw that little teddy bear he was holding in hand.

“It doesn’t bother me. Here, I brought you a present,” he gave you the teddy bear and you took it, looking at it carefully. It had a little sweater on, with your and his initials in a heart. You had to admit, it was cute.

“Thank you, it’s lovely. But please, don’t come closer. It may not bother you, but it does bother me,” you muttered quietly again, softly cuddling the toy to your chest. He nodded his head.

“So we’ll start with a bath, how about that?” he smiled and you looked at him with a visible exhaustion in your eyes. He knew you wanted him to go, but he just couldn’t let you be all alone when you were in such a state. He wanted you to feel his presence, his support. You knew he wasn’t going anywhere, so you slowly nodded your head, without saying a word. He got up and went to the bathroom that was attached to your room. He started preparing the bath.

You looked at the teddy bear again. His fur was really soft, and he was all white. You were planning to call him Joey, as it was your favorite nickname for your boyfriend, and you wanted to always have a Joey to hug at night. Soon after that, Joe came back to you.

“May I?” he asked, and when you didn’t object, he picked you up. You left the toy behind, on the floor. Joe took you to the bathroom and make you stand on a rug, while he began to help you undress. There was nothing sexual about it, on the contrary, it was almost as if he was a parent helping his child out after a long, exhausting day. He looked after you with care and protection. It gave you a sense of security.

After your clothes were already in the laundry basket, he helped you to get in the bath. He himself sat on a small stool next to the bathtub. The first thing he did was taking care of your yesterday’s make up, by washing it off. You didn’t like your bare face, but he actually loved it. He gently pet your cheek, but when you didn’t look at him, he took his hand away, not to do something you may not like. Then he took a sponge and began to wash your body with a shower gel. You were hardly feeling it. You felt like you were drifting away, like you were somewhere else, under the water, while your body stayed there with Joe. He felt you disconnecting.

“Hey, beautiful,” he kissed your temple. “Where are you now?” he asked, smiling slightly. You looked at him and tried to smile back.

“Right here, with you,” you put your hand on his and began to softly pet it.

“If you want to get anything off your chest, I’m here to listen,” he reassured you.

“Thank you, honey. But not today. Today I don’t have the strength to talk,” you explained to him, and you knew you’d understand without questioning it.

“Darling… I don’t want you to be mad at me for asking this question, but I have to make sure. Were you taking your pills?” he looked at you with concern, trying to find any way he could help you.

“Yes,” you nodded your head. “They just made my dose a little smaller… Apparently it’s a bit too early for that,” you answered him honestly.

“We will make sure they bring back the right dose. I’m glad you’ve been taking your pills, honey. I’m really proud of you,” he pet your head. “Always remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you looked at him and gave him a little smile.

“Thank you, Joey. I don’t know where I would be without you,” you muttered and held his hand, because you needed to feel his presence. He got the message.

“Do you need a hug?” you nodded your head and he cuddled you, petting your back. You liked everything about hugging Joe. His warmth, the smell of his perfume, his closeness. He held you for as long as you needed, he wouldn’t dare to break out of a hug first, knowing how much you needed it. So after some time you broke out of it, because otherwise you would stay in his arms forever. Not that you minded that.

“I love you,” you whispered so he could barely hear it. But he knew you meant it.

“I love you too. So, so much. You’re like my own personal piece of sunshine. I want to be with you forever,” there was an actual honesty in his words. There was something about him that just made you want to believe him, even on the days you didn’t believe yourself. “Did you sleep well tonight?” he asked with care.

“I barely slept at all, I kept on waking up,” you sighed quietly. Bags under your eyes were a proof of that.

“Are you having nightmares?” he held your hand now, petting it with this thumb.

“All kinds, the worst kinds,” you answered.

“What about meals, did you eat?” you shook your head.

“Mom brought me something earlier, but I couldn’t take a smallest bite without feeling like puking,” you explained to him and he kissed your shoulder.

“So how about I’ll make you something? Remember when we made pizza together? It was nice, wasn’t it?” he smiled, trying to make you remember the better days, and make you feel better. It really was a nice day, the pizza day he mentioned. It was when your mom had a girls night out and he stayed with you. You cooked a pizza together, making a huge mess, but it was fun. And the pizza was delicious, despite the fact it looked absolutely awful.

“After the bath?” you asked, looking at him. He nodded with a big smile.

“Yes, after the bath. I’ll make you anything you want. And then we’ll watch your favorite Disney movie. Would you like that?” you nodded your head slowly. “So we will. Now come on, tilt your head back. We need to make your hair wet.”

When he was washing your hair, you calmed down a little bit. His touch, his fingers running through your hair, his gentle massage, all made you feel a bit better. Later he helped you get out of the bath and dried your body up with a towel.

When you came back to your bedroom, you began to brush your hair, while he was drying it with a hair dryer. The warm air filled up the room and made you feel better. After that, you put some actual clothes on instead of a pajama in case your mother was in the kitchen. Yes, you were an adult, but still, it would be quiet uncomfortable to expose the fact you were just naked around your boyfriend like that. Even though your mom actually liked Joe. She saw the good impact he had on you.

While in the kitchen, Joe started off on his own, trying to make some traditional Italian pasta from a recipe he found on the internet. But when you saw him struggle, you soon joined his effort, so now you struggled together. You chuckled as you were trying to make something out of the things that you had, instead of those that were actually in the recipe. Joe was cracking jokes all the time, and it actually helped you forget for a little while. You focused entirely on him.

When you finished, you went and had a dinner on the balcony, talking about stars, cosmos, and people passing by on the street. Joe wrapped a blanket around you to make sure you won’t get cold. He asked you about how you felt and kept on reminding you that you’re valid and important for him and if you ever needed him, he’s there. Then you came back to his room and watched the Disney movie he suggested earlier. Before the ending, you were already yawning.

After all of that, late at night, he suggested he should come back home, but at this point you didn’t want him to go, so you persuaded him to stay. You felt better falling asleep in his arms, and he held you tightly, petting your back. The Joey bear was lying next to you on the pillow.

The last words you heard from your Joe before falling asleep was always “I love you,” whether it was through a text, call or in person. Tonight was no different.

“Sleep well, honey. I love you,” was the words you heard from him while you already were half-asleep from all the day’s exhaustions. You had a feeling that this night will be better than the previous one. And you sure hoped that if you had a nightmare, Joe would appear in your dream to save you, just like he protected you in real life.

[zi-i-think]

15 | Wedding Crashers

Zuko x Ama (OC)

Word Count: 10,100+

.☽☼☾.

~ Ama ☾ ~

         Marriage. Probably one of the most exciting and terrifying things in a person's life. It might take couple's years to finally come to the conclusion that they were ready for it. For some others it might take less time. It was a life changing decision. And then once you make that decision the planning starts.

         It would be a stressful few months. The two main participants may be met with hesitation during the time or just the opposite. Their trust for their partner could get stronger. In the end, if the couple chooses to go through with the union, they'd spend the rest of their lives together.

         They'd share incredible moments that they just couldn't do with family or friends. It was the married couple that would share that moment if or when they have a child. They'd share the joy of having a family. They'd live and grow old together.

         Growing up in the patriarchal society of the Water Tribe, many of us women longed for marriage since we were little girls. We'd dream of falling in love and then having as many kids as we could. Mom used to tell Katara and I the story of how she met dad on repeat. She described her marriage ceremony as one of the most incredible moments of her life and that having us was the most fulfilling part of her life.

         So as kids, my sister and I would plan our weddings. Talk about our dream guy and then describe what our dress would look like in detail. I'd even go as far and plan how I'd want the reception to go. We couldn't wait to find romance.

         Years ago, when I was with Mulan, I gave up on the plan for marriage. Not because I wanted to, I just didn't think it would have been possible. It wasn't like the Earth Kingdom allowed same-sex couples to marry each other. So that huge ceremony and reception was going to be traded by buying our house. And having kids was to be traded with housing the rejected ones.

         During those years with the gorgeous warrior bastard, I had an epiphany that younger me didn't understand. Marriage wasn't about the decorations or the dress. Not even about the people that were attending. It was about two people wedding each other. About declaring to each other and themselves that they were wholeheartedly given themselves to the other.

         And that was what today meant for Katara and Aang.

         With the wedding just a few short hours away, there wasn't a single person who wasn't tasked with something to do. Servants were running around with last minute touches and the chefs were already busy preparing the appetizers and dishes.

         But the worst, most heartbreaking part of the morning of the wedding day, is that the bride and groom have to be separated; according to Aang and Katara. Those two were attached at the hip. I didn't know if it was just because I'd been gone for so long, but those two somehow became even clingier. In my mind it shouldn't have to be such a big deal. I mean, it was only a couple hours then they'd be together as a married couple. They've been apart for longer than that.

         But they were in love. It was their day. Their moment. They had every right to feel however they wanted. And if I was being honest, I could use some of Aang's magic touch right about now. Because Katara was beyond jittery.

         "Sis, you made sure that the dress was cleaned and everything?" She hustled across the bridal prep room with a brush in her hand. The room was extravagant. It was one of the very few things that Katara let Malina take care of. And my step-mother truly outdid herself.

         The soft blue themed prep room was set in one of the guest bedrooms of the palace. Along one wall, a long table was set and multiple mirrors were placed across each of the six plush chair. The bridesmaids dresses were hung on a silver dress rack, whereas the bride's dress was hung in a separate rack more delicately.

         Most of us bridesmaids were already prepared with our makeup and hair, since Katara's paranoid ass kept needing to check something, she ended up being the last one to get seated for her makeup.

         I let out a soft sigh, letting my head fall into my hand. "For the tenth time today. Yes, Katara. You just need to relax."

         My sister let out a peeved scoff, sitting in her chair for Ty Lee to style her hair. "Relax." She grumbled like that was an impossible task. "I'm very relaxed. Totally not like this is one of the most important days of my life and there's a large possibility that we might get attached by some psycho." Her nervous, forced laugh worried me.

         "Katara, your aura is very, uh, dark blue. Are you sure you don't just need a breather before I start your hair?" Ty Lee gave my sister a concerned look through the mirror as she ran her hand through Katara's chocolate hair.

         Katara tensed up and she already started to stand up. "Well if we're going to have a break then I'm going to go over the-"

        "Nevermind." Ty Lee firmly seated Katara back down.

         "Hey, Katara," Toph started to question as she nibbled on a cookie. "The kale cookies are great and all, but why couldn't we get some of that seal jerky as a pre-ceremony snack."

         "Because they make your breath smell bad." Katara stated matter-of-factly.

"Aren't mints a thing?" Mai wondered. She sat at one of the makeup stations, fixing her eyeliner for the fifth time. Which made me realize that everyone was feeling some nerves for today. Because if Mai was putting so much detail into something so small, she was worrying about something.

         Suki pointed at Mai in agreement. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

         "Oh, well I'm sorry if I decided that kale cookies were a better choice than seal jerky. It's not like I had a million other things on my mind." Katara snapped. Everyone's jaws dropped and Ty Lee paused with the hair.

         "Okay." I mumbled softly to just myself. I set down my tiny glass of champagne and went over to my sister. "I think we need to have a quick chat." I grabbed my sister's hand and led her off the seat. Luckily Ty Lee had only been brushing her hair and didn't start on the actual hairstyle. I dragged Katara to the bathroom, which was conveniently attached to the room. "Need to vent?"

         Katara closed her eyes, breathing in deeply and then letting it out. "I don't think I can do this." She said suddenly, leaning her body on the sink. She let her head hang slightly, making her hair hide her face.

         My eyes widened in shock. "What?"

         "I just." She groaned in frustration and balled her hands into fists. "There's other things to worry about, like Azula. And everyone else is pushing it under the rug like it isn't a big deal. Is it even right to be having a celebration when we're almost positive that she's planning something for tonight."

         I grabbed my sister's straining fists and forced them open to hold her hands. "Katara, listen to me. If you call off the wedding, you're giving Azula the satisfaction." My sister turned her head to look at me. "She wants people to be scared. By going on with the wedding you're showing her that no matter what she throws, she can't shake you."

         Katara kissed her teeth. "Well, I don't want her to think that she scares me." A light chuckled left our lips.

         With a comforting smile, I continued to speak. "But it's also your day. If you want to have it without worrying about Azula, that is okay. But it's your choice."

         Katara looked away in thought for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Aang and I decided together to go through with this. Azula or not. We love each other. And... I don't want to wait another day."

         "Alright then." I nodded, pulling her off the sink counter by the hand. "Shall we finish getting ready?" I motioned back into the room.

         Katara nodded with a thin smile and led the way back out. She went straight to the seat in front of Ty Lee. "Okay, ladies. Let's get a move on." Ty Lee grinned happily and immediately went back to work.

         "And we," I pointed to the other three girls, cocking up an elated eyebrow. "Should get into our dresses."

         Toph groaned loudly and threw her head back. "Already?" She asked, shuffling unenthusiastically to the dress rack.

         "Yes, already." I responded in a mocking tone as I took my dress off the rack.

         None of us girls felt uncomfortable getting undress and slipping on our formal apparel in the same room. But I still faced away from them. Despite knowing the group for so many years and fighting by their side, the last thing I wanted was to make any of them feel uncomfortable now that I was out.

         My outfit was more proper than it was yesterday to greet our royal and close guests. My medium purple dress floated just barely above the floor with dainty, silver spiral stitchings on the skirt. The formal dress would eventually be paired with a traditional deep blue parka, just not to be worn inside do obvious reasons.

         I gently smoothened the skirt, to busy myself for a moment. "Is it safe to turn around?" I wondered out loud, fixing my eyes on the wall.

         "We're all dressed, if that's what you want to know." Suki responded. I nodded and finally turned around in a casual manner. My jaw almost dropped at how elegant and gorgeous they all looked.

         Everyone wore respectable attire from their own nation. Katara didn't like the idea of having all of us in the same gowns. In fact, she despised it entirely. Instead, my sister found it more appealing to have everyone wear clothing from their own cultures to represent the harmony of all nations during this occasion.

         "You know you didn't have to turn around, Ama." Suki claimed while she hustled to the makeup table where she had previously set her things down.

         I shrugged and followed her halfway till I took a seat beside my sister. "I know, I just don't want anyone to feel awkward about it."

         "I wouldn't mind if you checked me out, though." Toph smirked in all her self confidence. "I don't know what I look like, but I do know that I look good."

         The room echoed our giggles and laughs. I shook my head at her with an amused grin. "I will say Toph, you are very good-looking." I told her. The earthbender shook her fist in the air proudly.

         "Hey, Ama. Can you hold Katara's hair while I pin it?" Ty Lee asked me. The girl's attention was almost completely focused on Katara's hair as she finished the last touches on the bun. I nodded immediately and got up from my seat to assist her. "Right here." She instructed, and I held the braid that was wrapped around the tight bun.

Only the top half of Katara's hair was put up while the rest of it fell down freely in it's flowy curls. And in front of each of her shoulders rested segments of her hair with Water Tribe medallions tied near the bottom.

         "Alright, done." Ty Lee grinned in satisfaction and took a gentle leap backwards.

         Katara took a minute to stare at her hair in awe. "Ty Lee, this is beautiful." She expressed her appreciation quietly and her hand went up to cover her mouth. Her face already started to scrunch up as she was about to cry.

         "Nuh uh, honey." I shook my head and pulled her out of her seat, deliberately ruining her touchy moment. "The waterworks are going to have to wait till later tonight." Katara nodded in response and looked up to keep the building tears from ruining her makeup.

         "You haven't even put your dress on yet." Mai commented dryly.

         "Which you should probably put on right now because we have a wedding ceremony to be at soon." I pointed out. My sister leveled her head back to laugh nervously.

         In a hasty walk, I grabbed the bride's gown from the rack and brought it back to my sister, who'd stripped to her undergarments. We were quick but cautious when slipping on the white shirt and the silk blue accented top layer. The dressed hugged Katara around the waist and flared lightly at the skirt. Suki passed me the white, blue stitched parka and I helped Katara into it. I then went around back, laying out the short dress train on the floor behind her before standing to the side.

         Katara smoothened out the few creases and then looked up to see herself in the full length mirror. This wasn't the first time she's seen herself in the dress, obviously. But given that it was the first time seeing herself being completely glammed up, she was likely to feel a bit emotional. Not to mention, she looked exactly like she was going to when she'd walk down the aisle to her soon-to-be-husband.

         Katara let out a dreamy sigh and smiled in the mirror. I lightly bit my lip and stepped next to her, viewing the two grown sisters that stood in the reflection. "You look just like mom." I noted softly. Katara turned to look at me with her bright, but doleful smile. "She would have loved to be here."

         With one swift movement, my sister pulled in into a hug. "But you're here." She whispered. I was left speechless for a second. Katara was always the one who was the most motherly. The caretaker. I regrettably, would spend less of my time helping around the village and more time getting into trouble. But it never occurred to me that even then, I was the older sister that Katara looked up to. I was the one who'd tell her not to let others push her around and to stand her ground no matter what. I had a different 'motherly' style that only Katara could understand.

         I hugged her back even tighter. And when we let go, Katara leaned her head up, dabbing her fingers along the bottom of her eyes. I laughed at her loudly at her and shook my head.

         "Hate to break up the very touchy sister moment, but we have a wedding to get to." Toph's assertive voice reminded us while she crossed her arms over her chest.

         Katara exhaled shakily but smiled cheerfully. "Let's get me married." The room erupted in cheers before we all grabbed our fluffy coats and headed down to the carriage.

         The entire ride there, Katara couldn't shake off her cheeky grin. Or her blush when we teased her about how she couldn't stop smiling. And for a moment, we forgot about Azula. We grinned and laughed while Katara probably felt a flood of nerves.

         The wedding ceremony was taking place on one of the cliff sides. It had the perfect view of the ocean from one side and of the Water Tribe city from another. The ceremony was attended by no one other than Aang and Katara's closest friends and family. Everyone agreed that they didn't want any rushed portraits or questions from reporters or the loud crying from some aunties.

         The carriage came to a stop a few feet from the entrance. The arched passageway was entirely made of ice with swirling carvings that made the sunlight reflect off of it divinely. There were guards on every corner, standing still and on high alert. The two groomsmen, Sokka and Haru, stood by the entrance eagerly along with dad and two of our little cousins, one held a tiny basket of rose petals and the other a small pillow with the rings, awaiting our arrival.

         "Right on time." Sokka smoothly came over offering his hand to escort Katara down.

         "Yeah, Ama didn't hold us up this time." Suki just had to bring that up as she slipped her hand into her boyfriend's to step down. Sokka pressed a gentle kiss on her hand before holding his hand out for me.

         I sighed loudly and let him escort me down. "You guys aren't going to let this go anytime soon are you?"

         "No, never." Sokka chirped. I kissed my teeth in annoyance and rolled my eyes.

        "Milady." A voice surprised me, making me jump away slightly. I looked to the voice, seeing Haru hold out a bridesmaid bouquet to me.

         I took it and gave him an awkward flat smile. "Thank you." As soon as I took it, I moved away. Haru was a nice person, it was just painfully awkward to be around him. We just never talked where we were younger, and now it was like there was no way we'd become close friends.

         I spotted my dad a few feet away, dressed in his best head chieftain coat. I headed over to him, letting him embrace me in a hug. "You and your sister look stunning." he complimented me.

         I huffed a laugh and pulled away. "Yes, well, despite it being Katara's day. I still outshine her with my beauty." I quipped with an overdone posh accent.

         My dad laughed with me and then glanced at the aisle entrance. "Hopefully, your own wedding day won't be too far from now." He had a hint of hope in his eye. "I will gladly welcome any man or woman you bring into the family." My lips tugged into an appreciative smile. But, like many moments that day, it had to be ruined.

         "Okay, people. Get into formation. It's a go on the wedding." Sokka directed with a grin. Katara came over to link her arm with dad while I took my maid of honor spot in front of her. My two little cousins skipped over to stand in front of me. And the rest of the group took their spots.

         I looked back at Katara. Her smile, reasonably held many emotions. Anxiousness, joy, hope. The sound of music was my cue to look back in front of me. My friends walked down in pairs, pacing themselves and giving each other a good distance. All eyes were on us. Well, more eyes were on the tiny children who were in awe with throwing the rose petals and walked a bit slower than the others.

         I giggled at them lightly while they unevenly scattered the red petals. When I looked up, I noticed Zuko standing beside Aang. The poor airbender was shifting anxiously, waiting for Katara to step into the aisle.

        Zuko, well, he stood there calmly in all his Fire Lord glory. His smile widened a bit more seeing that I met his gaze. My heart sped up just a touch and I wasn't sure whether I was blushing or not.

         Spirits, if I was blushing I hoped no one took notice.

         Not that I had to worry about that for much longer. Because the second Katara stepped out in her magnificent gown and with her glowing complexion, she was the center of attention. Aang froze in his spot and his face softened. I swear I saw a tear in his eye. It was beautiful.

         That was the story my mom would tell us. How all eyes were on her, but it felt like it was just her and dad. I wondered if that was how Katara was feeling. If that anxiety she was feeling vanished once seeing the love of her life standing at the altar.

.☽☼☾.

         There was a momentary pause in the joyous feeling as the guests from the ceremony transferred to the reception. The venue was packed with extended family, village friends, reporters. Some kids were even running around in their little games of tag.

         The place was absolutely gorgeous. The walls were decorated with traditional animal skins, the lanterns and tiny lights reflected off of the ice sculptures. The combination of the Water Tribe and Air Nomad culture into one place gave the room a unique feeling to it. It wasn't a bad feeling in the slightest. It was a more comforting and harmonious one.

          My aunties immediately pulled me to the side to compliment my dress and hair. And then, of course, asked when my wedding would be. Interesting how they didn't ask Sokka these questions, but I just let it go.

         "You are a beautiful, young lady Ama."

          "And well over the age of 16, when will you allow one of these fine men to sweep you off your feet."

         "Or that handsome Fire Lord. You two made such a good-looking couple."

         I'd just laugh nervously and tell them that I just wasn't ready for any of it quite yet. I was starting to feel overwhelmed with the constant nagging and questions. I mean, what were they expecting me to say? That I was desperate to get married and just waiting for the perfect man? I was half tempted to tell them that I never planned to get married just to get them to stop. Sure they'd gossip, but I didn't want the conversation to continue.

         I felt someone slide their hand on my upper back. The touch was so delicate that it was almost like a feather. Turning my head up to see who if was, I wasn't disappointed. Zuko stepped in, kindly smiling at all my aunts. "Pardon the interruption, ladies, but Ama and I are needed."

         I nodded in agreement, remembering that he was talking about the married couple's arrival. "Of course, take her for as long as you need." Auntie Ashuna swat her hand for us to shoo and the other women giggled.

         I sighed heavily as Zuko and I walked away from the table and towards the venue entrance. "Thank you." I chuckled.

         "Why, of course." He gently bumped his shoulder to mine. "What kind of friend would I be if I let you continue getting tortured by overbearing aunts."

         I smiled at him and leaned my back on the wall right beside the door, giving me a good view of the outside so that I'd be able to tell when Katara and Aang would be arriving. "Who's watching Suh?" I wondered, peering outside.

         "Suki and Ty Lee." He glanced over to where they were seated. "So far, she hasn't been showing any signs of Azula's arrival."

         "Right." My brows bounced in an unbelieving way. "The night of the bachelorette party she kept looking out the window. Has she not done anything like that?"

         Zuko took a moment to think back. "She's been avoiding the appetizers like the plague." He said with a straight face, being completely serious.

         "How helpful." I deadpanned and rolled my eyes. Zuko scrunched up his face when he looked at me. What an absolute buffoon. But an adorable buffoon. My brow cocked up and I crossed my arms. "Suh only eats meals, thought you'd notice that after 6 months. Keep thinking."

         The firebender scoffed and vexingly shook his head at me. "You know, I don't see you keeping an eye on Suh. Why don't you look after her if you're so good at finding red flags."

         "Don't know if you know this, Zuko. But my sister is got married tonight." My tone was expressionless and I kept my eyes on the outside. The sun was just starting to set, giving the sky an orange tint. "Besides, isn't she your girlfriend?"

         I didn't see Zuko's facial reactions, but I heard his chuckle and I felt his hot breath right by my ear. "You're jealous." He teased in a low whisper. It almost sent shivers down my spine. But I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me bothered.

         "Jealous?" I scoffed back and narrowed my eyes roughishy at him. "Please, the only thing I'm jealous about her are her lips. They're very full and pretty." That wasn't a lie, technically. Suh was a gorgeous woman, and her lips were definitely a beautiful feature.

         "Maybe. But I think I'd prefer having your lips on mine than hers." Zuko smirked proudly at his smooth remark. And if I wasn't blushing before, I definitely was now. "Already got you blushing, love?" He was far too confident. All those years away must have really helped him grow away from that awkward teenage mentality.

         I snapped my attention back on the outside, avoiding his gaze. "Let's just focus on Suh and Azula for now." Wow, I really was out of the loop on the whole flirting thing. Then I saw them. Katara and Aang flew down on Appa's saddle and settled into the snow. "They're here." My feet scurried to the drummer, signaling for him to declare the arrival.

         He in turn raised his arm high up in the air before letting it fall on his instrument once. The low vibrations of it resonated throughout the large celebratory room. Then he banged the drum again. And by the third time, everyone's eyes were anxiously on the door.

         When Katara and Aang walked with their arms linked, the room exploded in cheers and claps for the newlyweds. Katara blushed immediately and leaned into her husband. The two were glowing in jubilance.

         Zuko and I approached them, taking their parka's off. "How do you feel?" I had to ask my overjoyed sister.

         "Happy." She sighed dreamily in her confident response. Her eyes sparkled like a diamond.

         Aang held his arm out to Katara once his coat was off. "Shall we?"

         She in turn hooked her arm in his once again. "We shall." She giggled. They walked forward to the middle of the dance floor, where they'd have their first dance.

         The band started the song softly. Aang held Katara close while he slowly spun her and swayed to the sides. Their focus was only on each other for the romantic song. Of course, the guests stood around the dance floor, giving them their space, while they awed and whispered about how perfect they looked.

         My hand went over my heart as I smiled blissfully at the scene. Just this morning my sister was hustling from corner to corner, concerned about every tiny detail and was so close to canceling everything. And now here she was with a cheeky smile and looking into the eyes of the man she loves.

         The celebration went on beautifully and so far without problems. The traditional katajjaq was performed by my aunts. The impressive throat-singers imitated the sounds of water and air with low humming and heavy breaths. Young waterbenders performed beautifully with a flowing dance.

         During dinner, Zuko and I gave our toasts. Of course, the Fire Lord gave some emotional speech about how much he appreciated the airbender. How Aang was one of the first people to trust him to save the world together. Whereas Katara was the last person to trust him. The two balanced each other out and were perfect for one another.

         My speech was a bit less formal than that. I couldn't pass up the chance of telling a short story about Katara's first crush, who I completely forgot was attending the reception. My sister's face turned scarlet red in embarrassment the entire time. But even I could get a few tears in when I expressed how glad I was that she found someone who could make her so happy.

         Soon enough, the real party started. The music became more upbeat, more alcohol was being consumed, and the dance floor was packed. I stood off to the side, watching my friends dance in pairs. Toph jammed to the music with her just as rambunctious boyfriend, Kanto. Even Mai was having a good time being spun by Kei Lo.  

         I wasn’t really in the dancing mood. And it totally wasn’t because I didn't have anyone to dance with. Instead, I would occasionally do a perimeter check or quickly chat with one of the guards about anything suspicious. Anything to make myself feel useful.

         Suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist to pull me onto the dance floor. I was taken by complete surprise when they spun me into them. But once seeing who it was, I just scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Sokka, you could have just asked for a dance.”

         My brother just shrugged while he took my hand to lead me in a dance. “Yeah, but it’s funnier to see how your face scrunches up when caught off guard.” He laughed in amusement and I lightly punched his shoulder. “Have any of the guards seen anything?” His expression turned more serious, but he kept a smile on for the appearance.

         “Nothing out of the ordinary.” I answered and as Sokka turned me, I took a peek in Zuko and Suh’s direction. They were having a normal conversation as they swayed side to side. Nothing about it looked malicious.

         “It’s weird right?” Sokka asked me with a wry look.

         “Huh?” My brows pinched together lightly and my head tilted in a questioning way.

         My brother discreetly pointed his chin in the direction of Zuko and Suh. “Seeing Zuko act all in love with a girl he doesn’t even like. I mean, I’ve never even seen him dance before.”

         I huffed a laugh but nodded in agreement. “I think the only time he danced was that one time with the dragons.”

         “Not even with you?” Sokka was in shock, but I didn’t see how that was such a surprising thing. Zuko was a pretty awkward person as a teen. I mean, he wouldn’t even touch my boobs until months after we started dating. I just shook my head with a thin smile.

         “I’m back.” Suki announced herself right beside us. I smiled at her and stepped away from my brother to let his girlfriend go back to dancing.

         “I’m going to go look around again.” I pointed my thumb in a random direction away from the dance floor.

         Sokka threw his head back and groaned loudly. “Ama, just dance for a bit. There’s a reason we got a bunch of guards around.”

         “You’re brother is right, loosen up a bit.” Suki agreed with her boyfriend. Shaking my head, I started to back away from them, ignoring their judging looks.

         “Ama!” I heard a young voice call out to me as I was making my way out. Curiously, I scanned my surroundings for the voice. “Ama!” They called again just closer. Then I spotted the source. Kiyi was maneuvering herself through the sea of people.

         I grinned at her once she finally got to me. “Kiyi! What can I do for you?” I asked in a cheery tone.

         The twelve year old smiled cheekily and grabbed my hand, pulling me back into the crowd. “Dance with me!”

         I laughed and put my free hand over my heart. I adored Kiyi. And it made me glad that she still had that ecstatic personality with me, even though it's been years since seeing her. I even took notice of the woven bracelet she wore, which was the one I sent her and her mother years ago.

         I gave in, following her willingly into the dancefloor again. The tween had a more flamboyant style to her dancing. She’d jump and bounce her head, absolutely ruining her pinned up hair. I moved my hands in a wave motion, bobbing my head to the beat. Occasionally I’d give Kiyi a little twirl.

         I looked over at my friends closeby. Katara left Aang’s grip and danced over to us. Bopping her head and bouncing her shoulders. Kiyi let out a melody of a giggle, grabbing Katara’s hand and twirling herself.

         I grinned widely at the moment, enjoying every moment. Looking to the side, I spotted Zuko looking over. He smiled at me and pointed at Kiyi with a questioning, yet amused, look. Her arms were flying all over the place and she jumped up into the air, incredibly off beat. But she had the attitude, which was what mattered most.

         I turned my head, glancing through the crowd. My heart fell in moments. Just outside of the dancefloor, I saw him. His scar stuck out like a sore thumb. He was completely expressionless as he walked from one side to the other. But, the most chilling thing was that he was looking right at me. Our eyes locked for just one horrifying moment.

         But as quickly as I saw him, he disappeared behind the crowd.

         I stopped my dancing and was completely oblivious to the rest of my surroundings as I walked out into the sides of the crowded floor. The outside of the dance floor was pretty empty. There were the round tables where some of the guests were sitting and talking. So I should have been able to spot him quickly. But he was gone. My heartrate picked up and I started to breathe more heavily as I continued to walk further into the sea of tables.

         Katara emerged from the crowd, looking at me with wide eyes. My eyes stayed glued on the direction he disappeared in as I walked towards her at a fast pace and shaking my head.

         “Sis, what is it?” She demanded to know, gently placing her hand on my exposed shoulder.

         “I thought I saw Mulan’s killer.” My tone was exasperated and breathy. “But he’s gone now.”

         My sister immediately went on high alert and scanned the room. “Okay. I’m going to get Sokka and the others. You stay here and keep an eye out.” She promptly and hastily went back into the crowd to get the others.

         Stay here. Keep and eye out. Control your breathing.

         With a hard and dry gulp, I kept my eyes open and alert. I didn’t realize how dry my throat was until now. I knew that Katara told me to stay there, but if I walked around a bit then maybe I’d spot him again. Plus the bar wasn’t that far.

        In a quick walk, I made my way to the tall bar. There was only was person working there, which was odd because there should have been at least two people at the bar at all times. I kept a wary look and approached it carefully. The man working had his back turned to me, but once I was close enough he turned around. His pitch black hair and devilish smirk made me step back quickly.

         They weren't planning to just attack unannounced. They infiltrated the wedding. And now they weren’t even trying to hide anymore.

         With wide eyes, I grabbed the skirt of my dress, pulling it up a bit to sprint back to where Katara said to wait. I needed to warn her. That was when everything went to chaos. The ice sculptures collapsed into water, the fire in the lanterns progressively got bigger and more frightening and a bolt of lightning was shot into the center of the room. It didn’t hit anything or anyone, it was just for the fear factor.

         The venue erupted in screams and everyone immediately started to scatter to different directions. I kept my eyes peeled for any of my friends throughout the blur of people. The front doors shut loudly, preventing anyone from leaving.

         I didn’t know what to do. So I pressed on towards the dance floor, since that’s where everyone was running from. “Ama!” A hand grabbed me and pulled me towards them. Okay, how many times is someone doing to grab my wrist and almost pull my arm off tonight?

         Whoever grabbed me had armor under their clothing, because their chest was hard. I knew because I was pulled right into them. “Zuko!” I exclaimed in relief. “Where’s everyone else?”

         He opened his mouth to respond but a flash of lightning made us both flinch back and cover our faces. The high-pitched screaming in the background wasn’t helping the building anxiety I was having.

         I removed my hand from my face, and my jaw immediately clenched. Azula stode right to the opposite side of the now cleared dance floor. A vast majority of the guests quivered under the tables or were huddled together; the men typically stood on the outside to defend anyone.

         Azula no longer looked like royalty. Her matted dark clothing made her look like she was just another criminal. The only thing that stood out about her attire was the bold red lipstick. But the way she moved and smirked villainously, it commanded for people to respect and listen to her.

         Azula scanned the room with a scowl. “I must say I expected my entrance to be a bit more… dramatic.” She placed a hand on her hip and then her gold eyes locked onto mine. “Ama, you don’t look thrilled to see me.” She stated the obvious.

         I didn’t realize how much my hatred for the woman had grown since our last encounter. Just the sight of her made my blood boil. She was the one behind my friend's deaths. She was behind Mulan’s death. And then threatened the people close to me. I was prepared to deal with whatever she had to throw at me; and prepared tot throw it back harder.

         A malicious chuckled let her lips at my narrow glare. “Well, maybe you’re thrilled in a different way. In a more bloodthirsty way.” She was reading me like a book. But then again, she’s been manipulating me this entire time.

         “Azula, please.” A pleading voice called from the sides. It grabbed everyone’s attention. Ursa stood a few feet away from us, her hands up to show that she was nonviolent. “I’m sorry for how I treated you as a child. Please don’t hurt anyone.”

         The ex-princess rolled her eyes in irritation. “Well someone obviously thinks they’re the center of attention.” Azula motioned her hand like she was telling Ursa to shoo. “I have a goal in mind. And Ama, here,” She gave me an intentful smirk. “Is my ticket.”

         “Not happening, Azula.” Zuko snarled at his sister and stepped in front of me in a protective manner.

         “Must you make this harder, Zuzu?” Azula snapped her fingers and the two men, her henchmen perse, stepped forward to stand next to the villainous woman. The two were bending large chunks of rock beside then and their stances said that they had every intention to engage in a fight.

         “Here’s your flaw, Azula.” Sokka’s confident and threatening tone joined in as he and the rest of Team Avatar stepped up next to Zuko and I. “It’s four of you against,” He paused his boast to start counting how many people were going to stand against Azula. But eventually he just shook his head. “Anyways, it’s four of you against a lot of us.”

         “Where did you get the number four from?” Azula asked, but her eyes said that she already knew what we were talking about. Myself and the rest of the group stole unknowing glances. “Oh, you mean Suh?” Azula brought up.

         I didn’t know where the spyful woman was, but I really don’t think she would have appreciated Azula ratting her out. She might be angry just at the fact that we’ve already known about her.

         “And, it’s not just us. I have a team of my own.” Just when Azula revealed the information, people in dark clothing started to emerge from every corner of the room. And the guards were nowhere to be seen. “They have their reasons for being here and I have mine. Ama-”

         I couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure on my chest was getting too much. The only thing that I was getting at the moment was that Azula murdered the people close to me before, and she’d do it again. Mulan died in my arms because of her! I didn’t want to have another person die in my arms tonight. Azula needed to go!

         The moment she addressed my name to try and speak, I snapped. My arms beside my flew up, the fallen water from the ice sculptures following my lead to make a water jet. It was a forceful shot. Enough to throw Azula into the air and push her through the glass window.

         My friends beside me flinched at my lack of patience and the lack or restraint I had. “Ama!” Katara exclaimed with her hand over her mouth.

         “You guys protect the people in here. If Azula wants a fight, then that’s what she’s going to get.” My deep, brooding tone surprised even me. No one had a chance to object to my command, because I’d already created an ice slide to go over the heads of everyone in my way. I tuned out everyone’s calls for me to go back. My focus was Azula and keeping her away from everyone one.

         The air was chilling and had already been giving me light goosebumps. When I landed on the snowy ground, Azula was just getting up, wiping the snow off of her clothing. The half moon and the lights from inside the venue illuminated our surroundings, so there was no problem with seeing. My hands were out beside me, waiting for her to respond in some sort of way.

         The woman cocked her head to the side and had a satisfying smirk. “Well you responded better than I thought.”

         “What’s that supposed to mean!?” I shouted. My voice cracked slightly. That probably should have been one indicator that I wasn’t exactly emotionally stable to fight. But I was craving a fight.

         “Doesn’t matter.” She said it softly and etched with pain that she wanted to hide or ignore.

         Azula acted first. A whip of bluefire came at me. I reacted quickly with a summersault over it. And once I landed my hands commanded the snow before Azula’s spike up into sharp icicles of ice. Azula jumped just in time to avoid it and landed to the side.

         I manipulated the water to then strike Azula’s head, but she blocked it with a wall of fire, turning the water to steam. She manipulated the wall into a stream of fire towards me. I created a wall of ice in front of me and jumped to the side before the hot fire could melt the ice.

         I shot water bullets at her. Not strong enough to kill her, but definitely enough to hurt or even to leave a bruise. Only one of two hit her before she put up another defensive fire wall. But then once the firewall was out, another jet of water hurdled at her, throwing her back several feet.

         Azula rolled in the snow, her hands and knees on the ground, she looked up at me while I stomped towards her. “Oh please, Ama, that can’t possibly be all you have in you.” She egged me on. “I murdered the love of your life! How do you feel!?”

         I feel like shutting you up for good.

         My hand flickered, entrapping Azula’s hands and feet to the ground, and slowly, the ice crawled up her body. Azula’s eyes widened in surprise and in fear. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t budge.

         Then my arms stuck out to my sides, ice spears forming beside me. My hands came to my chest, palms facing her and I forcefully pushed them forward. Azula stared at the ice, ready to be penetrated with a narrow, dismal expression. But the spears were redirected and forced into the ground. Not by me, but by someone else.

         Azula and I snapped out heads in the direction of the sound of crunching snow. I should’ve known it was Katara who had bent the ice. But she should've been inside, protecting the guests. I turned my head a little bit more, seeing that the venue now had a very large whole in it and some of my friends were now outside battling Azula’s misfits.

         “Ama, this isn’t how we do things!” Katara shook her head in concern. Her brows pinched together and her lips slightly parted in a frown. “Remember what you promised me!”

         “No, I’m protecting you all!” I shouted tensely, forcefully pointing at Azula. “Are you forgetting that she almost killed Aang, your husband? She is the reason that my friends are dead. She hasn’t and will not change, Katara.”

         “If you kill her, you will change.” Katara strongly retorted. “I felt the same way with mom! I know it hurts, but you will regret it, Ama. You can’t kill her!”

         There were pros and cons on both sides. Pros to killing her: Azula would no longer be a problem and I’d have my revenge for my friend’s deaths, for Mulan’s death. Cons: I’d break my promise to my sister and I could live the rest of my life in regret.

         Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, I lowered my hands calmly. “You’re right.” I sighed. My sister smiled graciously, before a water tentacle unexpectedly wrapped around her waist and pulled her back towards their fight. “Katara!” I reached my arm out for her and was about to go after her. But the sound of shattering ice grabbed my attention.

         Azula broke free from my ice, and stood up. Her hair was a mess and she darkly glared at me. “No more distractions!” She shouted. “Maybe you just need one more push!” Her arms made large arches as she generated lightning. “So many people to choose from. But which one of them would be strong enough to survive lightning?”

         She aimed the lighting at my group of friends, who were outnumbered and too busy to take notice. It didn’t matter to me who she was aiming at. There were all my family, I couldn’t let her do anything.

         “No!” My hands went out in front of me in desperation and before I knew it, Azula’s hands shot up, the lightning shooting up into the sky. The woman stood there bug-eyed and stiff like ice, except I didn’t shoot her with any ice. I didn't shoot anything at her.

         “What the hell are you doing to me!?” She let out a horrified shout.

         I sucked in a breath, realizing that I was bloodbending. I glanced at the moon, just to make sure it was a half-moon like I’d originally thought. And indeed it was.

         I’m bloodbending? During the half moon?

         I looked back at Azula’s scowling face and my jaw clenched. “You could have killed someone!” I shouted in fury, stepping forward and forcing her on her knees. “You are never going to change, are you?”

         Azula nervously laughed at me. “I know I’ve done some terrible things, but I needed one more life to destroy before I’m gone.”

         I scoffed, but then it all clicked in my mind. I shook my head in disgust; and in pity. “The only person you intended to have dead was yourself.” Azula kept silent, her way of agreeing with me. “And I was the way to do that.”

         “You could have killed me in that battle years ago.” Azula recalled with a chuckle. “But you didn’t and that makes you have morals? No, Ama. You’re going to kill me and you’re going to like it. You loved the feeling a year ago. Why not really love it and in the process rid me of this world?”

         My brows furrowed tightly and I grimaced. My fingers curled ever so slightly, just starting to press her body in on itself. Azula let out a small grunt of pain, but this was what she wanted. Right? Was this a part of her that was so evil she’d let herself die to hurt me? Or was this just a woman so regretful of the pain she’s caused in the past that she felt she needed to be gone. To rid herself of the burden she’s had to live with.

         Azula was raised to be used as a weapon by her own father to fight for the Fire Nation. But the Fire Nation was no longer at war. This woman was practically shunned by her only family and given no new purpose in life. She was lost and alone.

         “No!” I let go of mu hold on Azula completely and the girl grunted while she fell forward. Her hands kept her up as she knelt. “I refuse to believe that you want to die, Azula.” She kept her focus on the ground in front of her, refusing to show me any of her emotions. “You can have a life again, a purpose, maybe. You don’t need to live in your own regret.”

         “You don’t know me.” She said through her bared teeth.

         “I don’t think you do either.” It was silent. But the sound of the battle my friends were in was still in the background. I was waiting for Azula to respond in any way. I was prepared to either keep fighting, or to stand with her in having her thugs stand down.

         I wasn’t paying attention, though. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t know who did it or if it was serious. I knew one thing only. I felt a sudden, stinging pain in my upper abdomen. A loud, sharp gasp was sucked into my lips. It took me a moment to process and in shock I slowly lowered my head. The sharp tip of the bloody sword stuck out through my front.

         I hissed at the stinging pain as whoever just struck me through abruptly pulled the sword back through. My body collapsed, suddenly feeling too weak.

          “Ama!” A distant shout reached my ears.

         My body laid on it's side. The only person I could see was Azula. Her jaw was dropped and her eyes were open wide in complete shock. Whoever slayed me walked around my body and stood over Azula.

         “We need to go! Now!” Suh shouted in a seething tone. But the firebender stayed put, shutting her eyes tightly in a pained expression. “Azula!” Suh glanced over to the separate battle. And with a grumbling curse, she bolted away. Leaving my dying body and the overwhelmed Azula.

         I felt somebody skid beside me and pick up the top of my body. Sitting me upright. It was Zuko. Terror had overtaken his face as he looked at my pale face. “Shit, Ama.” An exasperated grumble slipped his lips. The man frantically grabbed the end of his royal cape, pressing it onto the backside of my wound and pressing his hand onto the front of it in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

         “Z-zuko…” His name came out in a strutter.

         “I’m right here. Hold on.” He begged me, pathetically trying to be calm for my sake. He turned his head to the side. “Katara!” His blood curdling shout called for my sister.

         A light chuck left my lips. “Zuko, your girlfriend is insane. Kinda like an unstable… ostrich horse.” My brain wasn’t exactly thinking correctly. My thoughts felt like they were scattering and jumping from one corner of my brain to another. Even my jokes weren’t making sense.

         My body suddenly cringed in a rush of cold. “I’m c-c-cold.” I shivered, leaning further into him. At each passing moment, I would feel weaker and less aware of everything happening.

         Zuko’s pressed a firm kiss on top of my head. “I know, waterlily. I’ll keep you warm.” He assured me. But it wasn’t the South Pole’s frigid air that left me shivering.

         A couple tears streamed down my cheek and I had to force myself to gulp, clearing my throat. “I don’t want to die, Zuko.” I managed a whisper.

         “You’re not going to die, Ama. Katara is on her way.” He pressed hard on my wounds. But the blood was still seeping out, only reddening his cape more and blooding his hands. His voice was fading in and out, like he was getting further away or I was listening from under the water

         “I’m so sorry.” I wanted to speak a little bit louder but my body could only allow a raspy whisper. Slowly and stagerdly with the little energy I had, my hand dragged up and over his bloody one.

         Zuko furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Sorry? For what?”

         I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for barely visiting. For not thinking things through like I should. “Everything.” My eyelids started to get heavier. But I fought against it for just another moment. One more chance to say “I love you.”

         “Ama!?” He shouted, but I barely heard it. And a second later I just saw his lips moving with no words coming out. It felt like a rush of cold air raked through my body. A bright, white light clouded my vision. It was just starting out as a tiny dot in the distance, and gradually got bigger until it was all I saw.

         The blinding light turned softer moments later. My brows furrowed in confusion as I took in my new surroundings. I spun in circles and I looked up, down, left, right. It was like an endless room of just, white. I wasn’t in my bloodied dress anymore. Instead I was clothed in a silk, cream colored dress that ended at my ankles. And I wasn’t wearing any shoes. I was grateful that I wasn’t still in my previous clothes, because the blood was getting sticky on my skin, but cream wasn’t exactly my color.

         If this was the afterlife how do I make a complaint about how boring it is...? Spirits, Ama. You’re dead and thinking about the color of your dress?

         “Ama.” An angelic, soft voice said from behind me. It was so familiar, like it was from a distant memory. Yet despite not being able to recall it, it made me feel safe and warm.

         Turning around stagarly, my hands immediately went up to cover my mouth with one palm. “Mom!” With an exasperated sigh, I ran towards her. Immediately being engulfed in a hug. Our arms wrapped around each other tightly after thirteen years.

         My family and friends always gave me wonderful hugs. But nothing could compare to the comforting warmth of a mother’s hug. It was the kind of hug that told me everything was alright, that she was here with me now and was always with me.

         Pulling away, my mom cupped my cheeks to look at me. “You’re so grown up.” She said emotionally while she studied my face. She hasn’t changed in how she looked at all. Her eyes still held that glimmer and her soft face didn’t have a single wrinkle. Well, I supposed that everyone looked young in the afterlife.

         Her thumbs rubbed my cheeks soothingly as she exhaled a pent up breath. “I am so proud of you.”

         I huffed a disagreeing laugh and looked down at my bare feet. “I almost killed a woman today.” I told her, despite her probably knowing that. “How can you be proud of me if I almost did something like that?”

         My mother smacked her lips and placed her hand under my chin to lift my head up. Her kind blue eyes held no judgment for me. Her parted lips smiled at me with pride. “Because, it’s what you did in the end that mattered. You gave that woman hope to be a better person. No mother can ask for a better daughter.”

         I wondered if I did help Azula. If she’d try to do better tomorrow or if she’d continue to let her own guilt consume her until she couldn’t just wait for someone to kill her. I wanted to think she’d somehow try to make amends with her family and redeem herself. Would the others even give her a chance to do that?

         “You don’t think it’s too late for her?” I wondered out loud. My mom was always a caretaker. She saw the good in anyone, but she never gave someone the benefit of the doubt. If anyone would know whether Azula could change, it was her.

         “Of course not.” She assured me.

         I sighed in relief. “Thank you, mom.” I didn’t forgive Azula for what she’d done. Intentionally or not. And I don’t think I would forgive her for a while. I mean, I had an eternity to do that now. But maybe, just maybe, she’d find her peace. And we’d be able to talk about things if we met in the afterlife.

         My eyes darted around the white space and my lips curved into an unimpressed grimace. “Is this what death is like?”

         My mom giggled at my expression, rubbing her thumb on my cheek. “No, snowflake. It’s much more lively than this.” It almost made me feel like a kid again when she called me by my old nickname. Kind of ironic considering I was dead. “Someone is going to be leading you to the afterlife.”

         My head tilted curiously. “You?” She shook her head ‘no’ and removed her hands from my face. Her eyes left mine to focus on something, or someone, behind me. With a timid yet poised turn, I looked to see who’d be my guide into the rest of eternity. Taking a sharp intake of breath, my eyes widened with contentment.

         “Hey, gorgeous.” Mulan. Sending her a emotional smile, I took soft steps towards her.

         It was comforting to see her clothed in clean, light clothing in contrast to the usual dirty and heavy clothing we’d use as the bastards. There wasn’t a hair out of place in her exquisite updo. But while she looked different and graceful, there was one thing that was missing. Her smile. The one that made me fall in love with her.

         My mother was delighted to finally see me. But Mulan was crestfallen. With her brow pinched upwards and her cheerless frown, the tall woman licked her lips to speak. “It wasn’t supposed to be your time yet.” Her honeyed voice said quietly.

         With a thin smile and a light shrug, I took my final step to stand in front of her. “Yeah, I always thought I’d die while doing something stupid with Taon.” I quipped with a gentle snicker.

         “Like surfing during a hurricane.” She cocked an accusatory brow at me. She reminded me of the one time there was a hurricane while we traveled to some islands.

         “I’m a waterbender, I would have survived.” I claimed, throwing my hands up beside me.

         Mulan scoffed and rolled her eyes amusingly at me. She bit her lip lightly while her green eyes scanned my face. “He’s still waiting for you to wake up.” She informed me and my smile fell a tinge. “They all are waiting for you to wake up.”

         “But I’m dead. They can’t keep waiting forever.” I gulped and shifted my weight to my left leg uncomfortably. My hand went up to wipe underneath my eye, expecting a teardrop of two. Expect there was no water leaking from my eyes. My face twisted in confusion.

         “You can’t cry in the afterlife.’ Mulan pointed out with an awkward tone.

         I groaned in frustration and shut my eyes tightly. “Ugh. I hate it here!” I exclaimed as I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to be dead, Mulan. I want to be with my family.”

         “And with Zuko.” She added simply. I paused at the addition and avoided eye contact. Mulan chuckled at me, catching me off guard. “Ama, I know you still love him. There’s no hiding that.”

         “I’m sorry.” I mumbled.

         “Don’t apologize.” She smiled. “You should be there with him.”

         “Well, his psychopathic girlfriend stabbed me. Can’t exactly survive that.” I reminded her.

         “You can wait for them all here.” She extended her hand out for me to take. To lead me to the rest of death. I stared at her soft pale hand. They were no longer calloused from the years of wielding her weapons.

         I guess I didn’t exactly have a choice. I’d have to wait for them. But they wouldn’t wait for me. They had to move on with their lives. Zuko would fall in love with someone else. Katara and Aang would have kids together. I wouldn't be around for any one it. But we’d have a lot to talk about.

         Daintily and nervously, I started to reach for her hand. The light behind her continuously got brighter and brighter the closer my hand was to hers.

         I’d wait for them. However long it took them.

.☽☼☾.

Two announcements!

One. I'm starting college tomorrow. I wanted to get a little more ahead before I'd start, but I couldn't. That being said, updates will be once a week. I will try and post every sunday, I plan on posting my writing schedule eventually (on tumblr).

Two. I plan on posting little oneshots for Ama and Zuko! So if you have any requests, I would love that. I want to interact with my readers and ask and answer questions. It'll be fun!

Hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼

[itsblissfuloblivion]

Torch - Chapter 11: July

you asked for it, we give it to you, don’t be mad...

Ao3//FFnet

.

Harry thought he’d been through quite a series of unfortunate events throughout his relatively short life, some that’ve left him feeling embarrassed and in need to crawl into a hole and possibly die, and others that have left him a heartbeat away from turning rogue and going after Voldemort guns ablazing. But this, Harry comes to accept, is the worst so far.

Not only did six other people suddenly become acquainted with his most...intimate parts, but two of them happened to be Fred and George. Judging by the grins they’re both sporting, Harry’s in for a hellish summer - or however long he’d be spending at the Burrow before jumping recklessly into what probably will be his death.

Later, when the firewhiskey’s numbed his heart, when he’s too tired and tipsy to scream at everyone and claw at himself to grip the pain and throw it out, Harry lets the images of Hedwig and Mad-Eye wash over him like muddy waters clashing against the shore. The two first soldiers of the war - and Harry wonders how many more there’ll be until a skinny, averagely skilled, not-special almost seventeen year old serves justice and catches the bad guy for good.

A bitter laugh rolls down his throat and Harry shakes his head in self-loath, marveling at how impossibly stupid everyone has to be to put all their trust in him.

Harry starts as he feels a small hand on his shoulder - Ginny’s. As she’d done earlier, instead of saying something or asking him what’s wrong, Ginny takes his hand as she sits down next to him on the front steps. And, like earlier, her touch has a calming effect on him, steering his thoughts away from self-destruction and towards the blissful, golden days they’ve spent together.

But most of all he remembers her as she’d been on their last shared moment, her sad eyes and her bare chest, giving herself entirely to him. And just like then, his heart battles his mind, takes it to a savage war where what he wants to do and what he must do almost blend in, blurred around the edges.

He remembers her standing before him, waiting for him to touch, to feel, to melt into her and he remembers that he couldn’t do it then. He can’t do it now either.

It’s as if Ginny reads his mind because she squeezes his hand tighter and, looking bravely into his eyes as her bottom lip quivers, she says, “You know, I’d really wanted...that to happen then.”

Harry’s breath catches and he nearly crashes his lips to hers, nearly loves her right there, on her parents’ front porch. But instead he mumbles, his voice too shallow to meet the unwavering courage etched in hers, “Ginny, I - ah. Please know that putting an end to this,” he gestures between the two of them, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, “is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“An end?” Ginny lifts her brow, her brown eyes blazing.

“Yes. It’s how it has to be,” Harry retorts, his voice a little higher and he immediately hates himself for it.

“Why?”

“Because it must. Because you’re not safe if you’re with me. Because I couldn’t live knowing that they’ve hurt you because of me.”

Although he’s careful to keep his voice low, the words erupt like barks from his mouth, clipped and loaded with ill concealed anger. And when she starts protesting that she doesn’t care for her life, that she can take care of herself, Harry loses his mind for a moment and his vision darkens suddenly, he’s out of breath.

He’s astonished to discover that he’d gripped her shoulders sharply and had probably shaken her, the anger boiling in his chest taking over his actions. Ginny stares back at him for a moment, pained and shocked, then smashes her mouth onto his with such force it hurts them both. Harry’s arms immediately let go of her, falling limply at his sides.

She ends the kiss just as quickly and shoots him a look that Harry can’t entirely describe - a little wounded, a little cross, and most of all a steel resolve that sends him into a panicked frenzy because he doesn’t know if she’ll run after him, or fight her own battle or, the most terrifying of them all...if she’ll just forget him.

Ginny smacks the door behind her before he can get a chance to apologise for being a crass prick or ask her what she’d just decided. Sighing deeply, Harry admits he really does deserve the door smacking. Why did he ever think that this, whatever this was, could’ve possibly been better than admitting that he loves her, so much that he feels a big part of him is missing when she’s not there, so much that his heart is broken beyond repair.

Because he’s a stupid prat with a hero complex, that’s why.

“What’s with the face, Medium Sized?” Fred grins at him when Harry finally drags his feet back inside.

Harry simply flips him and starts climbing the stairs all the way to Ron’s room. He’s fairly certain there’ll be enough other occasions for Fred and George to take the mickey out of him on accounts of his physique, but today he’s just not up to it.

An unsettling thought crosses his mind before he drifts to what he has no doubt would be an unrestful sleep: being split into seven, even if by means of Polyjuice, appears to him not so different than what Voldermort’s attempted to do. It’s truly a thought that weighs tangibly on the self-hate load for many reasons, but most of all it’s the fact that Harry keeps finding similarities between him and Riddle every time he stops to think about it. And that makes him retch right there, near the camp bed he’d been sleeping on summer after summer since someone had seen enough good in him to have him rescued from the Dursleys - and, quite truthfully, from himself.

Somehow there’s not much opportunity for wallowing when he wakes up as Mrs Weasley seems to have devised the cleaning schedule from hell to keep them occupied and leave no room for mysterious plots to be cooked up between Ron, Hermione and himself. And honestly? Harry’s a little grateful for that.

The blazing sun overhead casts an orange glow behind Harry’s eyelids at the end of the day, warms the metal rims of his glasses where they press against his flushed cheeks. For a minute, while Ron and Ginny’s mingled laughter still colors the air and Harry’s breaths are still calming, it’s almost like he’s got a normal life again. Like the world isn’t silently waiting for him to take out a maniac they haven’t managed in two decades.

And for a minute, maybe more, Harry thinks he can let himself have it and forget about yesterday, forget about all the bad days he’d ever had. He’s already given up so much, is preparing to give up more when he heads out alone to finish what Dumbledore started, he lets himself be selfish. Only a little longer.

“Alright over there, old man?” Ginny’s voice calls out.

Harry cracks one eye open and finds Ginny smirking at him, hair wild around her face, braid half undone. “I’m just a year older.”

“A year is a long time,” Ginny shrugs and winks, “Grandpa.”

“Whatever happened to respecting your elders, then?”

Hermione returns from the house with lemonade in hand and a smile on her lips, “Are we back to this again?”

“Yes. Harry is an old man and I proved it by totally kicking his bum three games in a row.”

Harry pushes up onto his elbows and blinks slowly. “First, you’re a trained Chaser and I’m not. Second, Hermione was my Keeper. And we all know what that means.”

“Don’t be mean,” Ron puts in as he gulps at his lemonade, stray droplets falling over his cheeks. Hermione gives him an approving nod and that probably genetic Weasley smirk slides across Ron’s face, “Hermione can’t help being allergic to the Quaffle.”

“Oh bugger off, Ronald,” Hermione grunts, kicking Ron’s thigh as she claims a place in the grass.

Comfortable quiet falls over them, the trees in the grove swaying with the wind as it carries the scent of wildflowers over the yard. With the sweet tang of lemonade on his tongue, Harry truly feels a sense of relaxation, of contentment that people tend to associate with summer. It’s borrowed time he can't bring himself to give up.

As if Ginny can read his mind, as if she knows his overthinking, overworked mind is settling on its usual dark track, she nudges his side with the toe of her trainer. “So all I’ve heard so far is a lot of excuses, and I’m nothing if not an excuse eliminator.”

“That’s one thing to call it,” Ron snorts.

“Anyway,” Ginny says with a roll of her eyes, “How about we have a go with the Snitch. Although we’ve seen I’m no slouch as a Seeker either.”

Her eyes catch his and he knows they’re both thrown back to that day, the sunlit weeks that followed, the stolen time. And her smile is a little dimmed when she stands and offers him a hand up, “Let’s put you to the test, eh?”

It’s like she wants him to know she’s momentarily forgot about the day before too, about his words and about her pleas.

So Harry accepts the hand up and ignores Hermione’s pointed stare and mumbles about ‘idiots with self destructive tendencies.’ He has a sudden death challenge to win after all.

The Snitch is for practice, and probably older than any of the foursome, but it does the job. It’s a bit sluggish taking turns, so there’s an advantage to catching it there, but the old thing has no trouble darting off and hiding before Hermione’s finished her last eye roll aimed at Harry.

Ginny doesn’t need to take her eyes off the horizon for the trash talk to begin, mostly the usual shots at his age and eyesight. Ron likes a good gangly something thrown in there, but Ginny’s never been one for poking fun at Harry’s physique. In fact, she seemed to like it well enough - before Harry’s life kicked in with its usual ‘pull the rug out’ disappointing development.

They circle in the air for who knows how long and Harry gives as good as he gets, asking things like whether Ginny can find balls smaller than six inches wide. But when he mentions ‘balls’ Ginny gives him a dangerous look he knows means something scandalous is about to leave her lips - until they light in victory.

He twists quickly and finds the Snitch bobbing in the air, as if it’s about to flit over for a visit with Luna and her dirigible plums.

Though Ginny spotted the Snitch first, Harry’s definitely a few paces closer and he’s fast on the uptake so they’re basically neck in neck, screaming toward the little ball.

Ginny nudges his shoulder a bit with hers, no cobbing, but her set jaw and cheeky grin are just as dangerous. Harry’s so caught up he can barely hear Ron and Hermione’s shouts from below - who they’re rooting for is undetermined - all he knows is the push of the air against his ears, the pounding blood in his veins, and Ginny flying at his side like a comet.

At the last second, she lowers herself just a bit closer to the broom and slips past him so her fist closes around the Snitch. So last second in fact, that his hand closes on top of hers. He can’t seem to release his grip and Ginny doesn’t pull away, even as the wings flutter against their palms. “Gotcha, Potter. No flashy mouth tricks - just quality play.”

Her whiskey eyes find his and if he thought his heart pounded uncontrollably before, now it may as well be beating out of his chest. His thumb brushes over top of hers and it feels like all his insides are in his throat as he murmurs, “Nice catch.”

“I don’t know another kind.”

Somehow, his grip slides to her wrist and she’s released the Snitch to feebly fly over the swaying grasses. Then her hand is around his forearm and they’re breaths apart. “Ginny - ”

Whatever he was going to say, it’s now lost to the summer air as Ron’s voice sounds from below, beckoning them inside.

They spend the little time left of July planning and preparing for the moment they’ll have to leave everything behind, which, to Harry, is in a way exactly what he needs simply because it doesn’t offer much room to interact with Ginny. It’s odd how seeing her now makes his heart leap with happiness and then immediately twist with sadness and guilt.

Even though it’s hard not to catch her eye at dinner, especially when the table’s too packed with people, close members from the Order, and no one can notice. Or when little Gabrielle Delacour arrives with her parents and turns her Veela charm on Harry; the small display of jealousy from Ginny revives the old monster nestled in his chest, gives Harry an extra spring in his step for the rest of the day. She cares enough to show the rest of the world he’s off limits. Only Ron’s withering look wipes the stupid grin plastered on his face.

“Should I be fighting off smitten women having a go at you or is this a girlfriend only task?”

Harry stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. He sees Ginny, her hair messily twisted in a bun at the top of her head, leaning against the doorframe of her room and staring after him intently. He also notices the puffiness around her eyes that makes the dark rings under them more evident. His insides churn painfully.

“I don’t think women have ever been smitten when it comes to me. I rather tend to attract the usual love potion spiked chocolates kind of people,” Harry shrugs as he fully turns around to face her, one hand gripping at the railing. He feels as though he needs to tether himself to something or else he might just run to her and take her in his arms and kiss her tired eyes till she’s sound asleep and safely pressed against his chest.

Ginny lets out a dejected chuckle, “Clearly you’re not at all familiar with Hogwarts bathroom talk.”

“Oh?”

“But it’s somehow so typical of you to be oblivious of your charms,” Ginny shrugs and Harry forgets himself enough to let a smile stretch onto his face.

“My charms?”

“I believe tall, dark and handsome were uttered here and there,” she smiles a bit as her eyes lock with his and instantly a series of intimate moments they’ve shared passes before his eyes. “But they’re all wrong.”

“They are?” Harry parrots stupidly, heat spreading all over his chest, his face, to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah,” Ginny nods and covers one arm with the palm of her other, brushes it from her shoulder to her elbow as her lips slightly quiver. “It’s actually your eyes. Good night, Harry.”

And just like that she twirls on her heels and closes the door right after her. Harry can hear the springs of the mattress lamenting faintly and tries with all his might not to imagine her crushed on her bed, crying.

He doesn’t even realise it’s his birthday until the sun shakes him out of the poor sleep he’d managed to get once his mind got too tired of playing thousands of different versions of how he might die, how we might bring sorrow and death upon others, all peppered with instances of Ginny crying.

Huh, at least now he can do magic without being traced. Cheers to surviving this long and successfully eliminating the option of rotting in Azkaban every time he feels like actually being a wizard.

Harry gets to enjoy a bit of lightheartedness and bask in other people’s relationship problems when Ron gifts him a book essentially on how to pick up women and not long after Hermione publicly announces she’s about to pack Ron’s pants as soon as they get out of the washer. Unfortunately, he can’t share neither of those moments with Ginny as she’s not there…

Soon enough he locates her when she calls him to her room and Harry steps inside aware of his faint trembling. He comments on the view from her windows and she ignores him, like she should. Who’s invited into their former girlfriend’s bedroom and steers the conversation towards scenery?

A bloody idiot, that’s who.

She mentions Veelas again and his head starts spinning as Ginny looks at him with that blazing look on her face and it’s then when he knows it’s simply become impossible for him to step back. Harry kisses her as fiercely as she’s kissing him, ready to go where he’d previously forbidden himself to go with her, no longer able to control his mind, his body, its reactions to her. Harry’s ready to give himself away completely.

But before the thought of locking the door can cross his mind, before he can take this any further, the door bangs open and they break apart. Lust turns to anger and anger turns to guilt in Harry’s mind as he promises Ron he’s done, he’ll stay away, he’ll will himself to stop. He can’t keep doing this to her, he must never do it again.

An image of Ginny happily in love with another man invades his mind for the rest of the day, obsessing him, torturing him, the faceless man telling him nonchalantly that ‘you’ve lost her, mate’ as the two of them kiss deeply and turn their backs to Harry. They’d never could’ve had a future anyway...

[skybound2]

Bad things that have happened in the last several days:

The snake that we took in 2 weeks ago escaped its enclosure sometime between Tuesday at midnight and Wednesday at 8 am. We still haven't found him. There is now an adorable and incredibly docile ball python loose in our house with our 2 cats, the younger of which plays rough with ANYTHING even remotely ribbon like 😬😬.

Our 15 year old greyhound who has extreme breathing problems tripped on a stick in the backyard yesterday and managed to damage BOTH her front right dewclaw and one of her rear left nails. The rear one we had to actually have pulled yesterday because it was so bad. This required a trip to the Vet, who then performed the procedure for us while our dog remained in the backseat of our car because she was too stressed out and they were afraid to move her into the clinic because of her breathing issues. She's doing okay now and is on antibiotics, thankfully. But she's also having a VERY hard time walking, which just makes her breathing issues worse.

Our older cat is notoriously fickle about his litter. Meaning that if you don't clean it fast enough after every use, he pees outside the box in protest. (Never mind that we have 3 boxes. If the one he goes to is dirty, you lose.) We have several rewashable litter mats to address this issue, because NORMALLY he pees DIRECTLY outside the box. But yesterday, because of everything else going on, I didn't respond fast enough I guess, so he peed on the Death Star rug near my desk, which is in the same room as a litter box. I only discovered this when I leaned down on the rug to look under the desk for the missing snake...

The same cat is also notorious for peeing on dirty towels if you stupidly drop one on the floor and leave the door to the bathroom open. For this reason the doors to the bathrooms are always kept closed. We've avoided him peeing on any towels in YEARS this way. Now guess what I didn't do yesterday after getting washed up from leaning on cat urine unexpectedly? Ya know, because of the forgetfulness that comes from extra stress and anxiety? *sigh*

Last week, I started using a cane for the first time ever because of some nerve issues in my left leg due to my MS. Luckily, this week I've noticed an improvement in that leg. Unfortunately, the reliance I've been putting on my right leg to compensate has caused a long term issue in my right ankle to flare up pretty bad. So today I started using the cane to help me walk because of THAT. I'm hobbling on both legs now. Joy.

I just stepped in cat vomit.

My husband's one sister, her husband and their daughter all have been confirmed with Covid. They are all symptomatic and obviously sick and in quarantine but stable at present. My sister-in-law, who has asthma, is doing the worst of the lot and has been advised that if she gets any worse then she will need to be admitted to the hospital.

Every year in spring I get contact dermatitis the way most people get seasonal allergies. I am a MESS of itchy hives and rashes right now and regular doses of benedryl are the only thing stopping me from scratching myself to death.

I have a rotten headache and could probably use a good cry, but I don't have the energy for it right now so I'm writing this post instead.

And now for a few good things to take the edge off:

Tonight, we got take out from one of our favorite restaurants because cooking was not a thing that was going to happen. It was delicious.

My husband just made me tea, brought me an ice pack for my ankle, and presented me with a platter of chocolate and strawberries. He's wonderful.

Today is another of our niece's birthdays. She is now 15, and is unbashadly a fangirl. I had a video call with her tonight and she spent most of it squealing happily over a Dragon Prince book she got. It was BY FAR the highlight of my entire week and I adore her a tremendous amount.

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

Take Care

A/N: I wrote this for me. It’s been a hell of a weekend. No other proofreaders, so all mistakes are my own. Enjoy. 📷 by: @gwilymleefan

Warnings: Talk about menstruation, a lot. Pain. Headaches. PMS. 

Word Count: 2.2k

“Love, you need to wake up.” Gwilym whispered as he pressed kisses into your hairline and brushed your hair away from your face.  It certainly wasn’t the worst way to wake up.

At least, that’s what you thought until you shifted your hips to try to get up. That’s when you felt it, the all too familiar slide that came every month. It had decided to be three days early.

“Love,” Gwil said a little more urgently, “Y/N, I think you need to get up and take a shower, okay?”

Slowly, you opened your eyes to see a set of furrowed brows and a hard set mouth. “I’ll just change the sheets real quick and -”, you couldn’t help the yawn that broke out. You knew what had happened, and you just wanted to clean up and get this over with.

“No. love.” He cut you off while you were still trapped by the yawn. “I’ve got the sheets.” His eyes softened as you finished sitting up in bed.

The grimace that crossed your face as you sat up couldn’t be stopped. The cool, slick feeling of your underwear against your skin was both unpleasant and unwelcome. You would have rushed to the shower, but your sheets were already stained. What was the point in rushing while half asleep and possibly injuring yourself to save a scrap of fabric?

“ ‘M sorry, dearest.” Your eyes were tearing a little. “I swear I’ve been keeping up. It’s early.” You looked up into Gwil’s eyes. Everything about his expression had softened since your first glance at him.

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay?” He slowly reached out to caress your cheek. “Have a shower. I’ll change the sheets and then we can just relax like we were supposed to. Yeah?”

You nodded as you stood to escape to the bathroom. Gwilym took advantage of the large shirt you wore to bed and used it as a tether to pull you into him as you passed. He pressed one chaste kiss to the crown of your head before releasing you.

Gwilym watched as you retreated into the adjoining bathroom and waited for the sound of running water before setting to work.

A quick look at your backside in the mirror proved that your shirt had escaped this little episode unscathed. Well, you said ‘your shirt’, what you meant was ‘shirt you stole from Gwilym the moment he got home from filming in Australia and had never given back’. It was fine, he’d assured you. He would much prefer to see you enjoying it, than to look at it hang in his closet every day.

The underwear you’d worn to bed that night were now trash. There would be no saving them, so you were left to mourn the loss of your favorite pair. They weren’t overly cute or sexy, but they certainly weren’t the ugliest you owned. They had struck the perfect balance between functional and comfortable, and were even suitable for date night if you were in a hurry.

Once you’d shed your clothes, you stepped into the steaming shower to cleanse your skin. Gwilym had promised a lazy day in bed no matter what yesterday, so you decided to go ahead and go through your usual routine. Nothing like a complete refresh to try and improve your mood.

Just as you were about to step onto the rug, you were struck with the realization that you hadn’t brought any clothes with you. But before you could call out, you spotted two folded squares of fabric on the counter. Gwilym was truly a God send sometimes.

He’d managed to find you favorite pair of lazy shorts and a duplicate of your previous underwear, that somehow were the exact same cut from the same manufacturer but weren’t as comfortable.  You quickly situated yourself and redressed.

Gwilym was reclined on the newly changed sheets reading a book while waiting for you. “How are you feeling, love?” He quickly shut the book to look up at you, his brilliant blue eyes magnified behind his glasses.

“It’s all starting to hit me now that I’m awake.” The cramps had hit in the shower, nothing too severe yet, but you were sure they’d get worse. “Can I just go back to bed?”

“Of, course. Come here.” He lifted his arm and invited you in.

You didn’t waste one second and quickly clambered in to your bed to cuddle up to his side and pillow your head on his chest. The sheets were warm, probably from him. The great thing about Gwilym was that he was a living space heater. It even extended into his hands, which gave you an idea.

“Dearest?”

Gwilym hummed in response, not quite ready to take his eyes off the page.

“Will you rub my hips?” You made sure to put on your classic puppy eyes as you peered up at him through your lashes. The pain wasn’t too bad yet, more of a dull ache than anything. But you just wanted to try to quiet the pain as early as possible.

“Yeah.” He kissed your forehead. “Let me finish this chapter, and then I’m all yours.”

You waited patiently for him to finish and decided to distract yourself by watching him. Gwilym was absolutely lost in his book, it seemed. His brow rose and fell at certain lines. His bit his bottom lip and released it, only to press his mouth into a hard line at whatever event was occurring, The hand that he had on your hip seemed to tap impatient beats on your skin or swirl in anticipation of what would happen next.

Finally, he closed the book and set it on his night stand along with his glasses. “Okay, love. Come here.”

You rolled so that your chest was pressed to his and his hands quickly found they’re way down your sides. You pressed a kiss to his chin as you settled yourself more comfortably.

“So what seems to be the problem?” His eyebrows rose as he waited for your response, his hands already applying pressure where he knew you were always the sorest.

“Just aches.” You hummed out. “Enough to keep me up.”

“I’ll gladly help put you back to sleep, but it’ll cost you.” You could feel the words rumble through his chest.

“Cost me?” You elongated the last word for dramatic effect. “Name your price. I shall pay it.”

“You have to keep me entertained. I have to stay awake and my hands are too busy to hold a book for me to read. So it’s up to you to keep me conscious.”

“Gladly.” You took a few moments to think of how to entertain Gwilym. He’d been reading Robin Hood to prepare for a new role. You didn’t know much about it, but you did know that the best way to entertain him was to get his thoughts on it.

“Tell me about the new role. I know it’s Robin Hood, but I know nothing else.”

Gwilym let out a chuckle at that. He hadn’t had the news for long, and you’d been so busy in the days since, that of course you didn’t know much.

“Well, I will be voicing good Sir Robin of Loxley.” He dug his thumbs into the meat of your hips at that moment and enjoyed the sigh of relief that left your lips. “But luckily, it’s mainly voice acting. So I don’t have to learn any choreography for fight scenes.”

You hummed your ascent “So tell me about the interpretation. What do you think of it so far?”

“I think it’s going to be very interesting. I’ve never seen this side of the character before.” He paused to adjust his technique on your hips. Deciding to switch to gentle kneading and using his natural heat tendencies to help relax the muscles.

He continued to give you his thoughts on the character and the job. You held on for as long as you could, but after about 15 minutes of the killer combination of his hands and voice, you were out like a light.

When Gwilym felt your body go lax with sleep, he pressed one final kiss to your hair and picked his book back up. Moving carefully, as not to wake you.

You woke up a few hours later to intense pains rolling from your belly button to your knees. Gwilym had left you on his chest, which helped keep warmth on your midsection but was not helping with the new pain in your chest. The one thing you never missed was the pain that came with your time of the month. It always slammed into you upon waking, as if you needed to be reminded that you were currently being punched in the uterus by life.

To relieve the pressure on your chest you pushed yourself off of Gwilym with a loud sigh. Nothing was improved by being removed from your favorite heat source, at least not emotionally. Physically, your chest thanked you for getting off of it and your back seemed to release a little with the mattress underneath it.

“How are you doing now, love?” Gwilym was still reading. He seemed to be much further along than earlier, but just as engrossed.

“Worse.” You felt your bladder finally wake up and decided it was time to get fully up. “I’ll be back.”

Your trip to the restroom could best be described as a horror show. You were hit with nausea upon getting vertical and turning on lights set your head down it’s own pounding path. Today was going to be rough.

Luckily, you kept all your meds in the cabinet and quickly took them. You also found your electric heating pad, which was great because you no longer had the desire to be touched by anyone.

Gwilym didn’t stop you as you stumbled through the bedroom. He knew where you were going. Despite what you thought, he was very much used to this schedule of events. Even if he thought you’d have a few more days before it started, he was still ready to get through it with you.

He found you on the couch, electric cord running from under the biggest blanket you owned to the wall and surrounded by enough pillows for him to know that you were not going to share. Gwilym sat on the chair next to you and started reading while you tried in vain to go back to sleep.

“Will you read to me?” Your soft voice seemed to float from the pile of fluff that contained you.

Gwilym merely nodded and started on the next line. He kept his voice gentle as he could. The room was quiet enough to have an echo and that wouldn’t help your headache.

You listened to his story and actually stayed awake through the entirety of what he had left. It was a good book, you’d have to read the beginning some day.

Eventually, your meds kicked in and the pain lessened. Your head quit throbbing and the nausea from cramping died down enough for you to finally feel hungry. You couldn’t imagine how poor Gwil felt. He’d been up longer than you and trapped with you without any real breaks.

“What do you want for -” you looked at the nearest clock. It was only 10 am, your day must have started much earlier than you thought. “Brunch?”

“I had a quick cuppa and toast while you were in the shower, love.” He could read you better than his book. “Make whatever you want and I’ll have the same.”

You stood and went into the kitchen to start your breakfast. Your stomach growled to tell you to hurry up, and your neurons decided that something sweet, maybe chocolate, sounded good. So you reached for your favorite pancake mix and chocolate chips and started mixing.

Thirty minutes later, you’d made enough pancakes, scrambled eggs, and tea for the both of you. Before you could call his name, Gwilym walked into the kitchen. He didn’t approach you immediately, still unsure of if your no-touching rule was on.

You walked up to him quickly and threw your arms around his waist. He reciprocated immediately and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Scared me for a minute there this morning, love.”

“I know it’s gross and awful and I’m so so sorry.” you spoke so quickly that your words seemed to trip over themselves and run together.

“It’s alright. I’m always more than happy to take care of you.” He pulled back just enough to pull your face to look at him by your chin. “I wish you’d let me do it more often. You stay so busy and on top of everything in both of our lives. It’s nice to know that you can depend on me when you need it.”

“Of course, I depend on you, dearest. Who else would put up with me and my moods?” You smiled up at him, a true smile that could hit your eyes now that your least favorite side effects were muted. “But for now, let’s eat. You can take care of me again later.”

Tag List: @rogers-wristbands @deakydeckme @gwilym-may

[terresdebrume]

I’m tired

I debated crossposting this because I meant what I said about trying to keep more personal posts a little more private, but at the same time talking about this on the web in a not-so-locked environment has been more helpful, so far, than keeping it all bottled up to myself, so given that this is more of an airing of feelings than actual self therapy, it goes there. Sorry?

So, today was...not a great day. I mean, Sunday wasn’t a great day either, and neither have the bunch of days that came before. I haven’t been at the top of my game (or, you know, in the higher ballpark of my game) since the direct boss started changing things around at work, to be honest. Which is not to say that everything falls on him, because it’s not like I had the healthiest of brains to begin with, but yesterday night when I thought about coming into work I felt my throat close up and tears creep up in my eyes, and I had not felt that in a very, very long time.

I don’t want to be feeling like that. I like this job, I like the people I do it with, I like my students, but lately I just don’t know how to handle it. I feel like I’m always late, like I’m never doing enough. I’m late in the program of my kids’ class, and no matter how much I tell myself it’s because I have a double level (so, essentially, I’m doing double the workload in the same time), I can’t shake the feeling that I’m failing.

I feel like I’m always thinking about work, but at the same time like I’m not doing enough. This weekend I didn’t touch work because I didn’t have the energy for it—I barely had energy for anything, my accomplishments list of yesterday proves that—and I knew I wouldn’t have done a good job of it anyway, but now I’m late on the things I wanted to plan for my teens class, and I have a bunch of essays to grade that I haven’t even looked at, and it feels like I’m losing my grasp on things and I hate it. I’m falling behind on my khmer learning (well, more like stalling because you can’t fall behind when the entire class is just yourself), I don’t do my homework, my flat gets dirty in record time (it was all good on Saturday morning after the cleaning lady got there and by Sunday night half the dishes were back in the sink, and they’re still waiting for me), and my basilisk plant is still dying.

Not to mention the part where I’m not advancing on my Superbat story, which is not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, but I want to tell this story and I want to finish something more this year than I did last year and the not advancing on this frustrates me.

I...think about my family a lot these days. Because it’s like, the big area of my life where things never seem to look up. We don’t really talk anymore—it was difficult before but it’s gotten worse since I came out as trans—and even when someone, like my mom, tries to make efforts I never know how to handle it. I feel guilty a lot of the time because I say I wish we’d talk more but when they try to talk to me I just...shut down and clamp on it.

I don’t know how to handle emotional vulnerability, not for me. I...think I know how to deal when my friends aren’t doing so good, most of the time. Hopefully. But for me I just...don’t know how. I haven’t found a balance between telling people how I feel and not feel like I’m just complaining, or dragging everybody’s mood down. I don’t know how to be open about the fact that I struggle with depression and anxiety—because these are not shameful, damnit, and I refuse to make it sound like it’s a taboo, I refuse to make it sound to anyone around me like they should not talk about it if it happens to them—and feeling like a pathetic wreck because I am ashamed! Because I try to accept that, because I try to tell myself it’s okay, it’s just a sickness like anyone else’s but the truth is when I open up about it and people around me find themselves at a loss for word the first thing that pops in my mind is ‘why on Earth did you open your mouth? Now everyone is uncomfortable, including you, and it doesn’t even help you’.

I’m catching up on One day at a time, lately, and I like it. It’s funny, it’s sweet, it’s sensitive, and it’s soothing in the same way Steven Universe was: because watching people who are doing their best and always try to go the kind, generous route, show that it’s possible. But at the same time, it’s so removed from reality. Yes, it’s one of my feel-good show, yes it’s great, yes it has wonderful messages, but ultimately there’s always a moment when I think ‘that’s never going to happen for me’. And I don’t know if I’m right, or if it’s the depression talking, or both.

All I know, is that I feel like I’m always freaking struggling, that every time I think I’m doing fine, better than I used to, there’s always a moment when the rug gets pulled from under my feet and I remember that there is no end to this. That there won’t be a moment where I get to stop, drop the whole thing down, and rid myself of this whole bullshit.

I want to be kind. I want to be patient, and reasonable. I want to be healthy, and welcoming, and a good shoulder to lean on. I want, I want, I want, and every time I forget that I can’t just want, I have to do and it’s hard. I fail at it. Regularly. Maybe not as often as it feels I do, but often enough to be frustrated. Often enough to wonder if maybe I should give up. Often enough to wonder what’s wrong with me. And it’s so tiring.

I’m always so tired.

I’m tired, of never feeling like what I do is good enough. I’m tired of having to chose between not doing a thing or trying to do it and drive myself nuts because I’m not doing it perfectly on the first time. I’m tired of looking at my bank account and wondering what I could do to reduce my spendings and knowing that at this point the answer is ‘only ever eat white rice/pasta every day’ or better yet: stop eating.

It isn’t even that I can’t get back up from this, because I know I’ll have the funds for it and I should be back on my financial feet next month, especially if I can avoid borrowing money from friends.

It’s that there’s all this, and not knowing how to take care of my plant properly, and knowing I’m not being a good student but also not wanting to stop because if I stop now I don’t know if I’ll ever pick it up and I’ll just forget things and then all of that will have been for nothing. It’s that I don’t know if I’m going to be able to afford that Germany vacation I want to do in the summer. It’s that I still haven’t had the courage to ask about the costs and/or methods of transitioning here because I’m scared of the cost of it, but also that I’m tired of going through my day being misgendered and not wanting to say anything because if I don’t feel like breaking down in tears when it happens, am I even really a man?

It isn’t one thing in particular—it’s never one thing in particular. It’s that life keeps happening, and it feels like I should be able to deal with it and I’m not and I hate it. And I don’t know, if I’d be better at it if either side of the family had been more knowledgeable-and-or-open about their issues (because I know exactly which side of the family brought the anxiety and which one brought the depression) because you know what, it’s not like anxiety or depression are ever rational things to begin with.

But I’m left with issues that we’re all struggling with and no one wants to acknowledge, that are buried under the rug at best or dismissed at worst, and now I have to figure out a way to deal with it on my own because it’s yet another thing we don’t understand each other about.

I’m tired. I’m tired of being like this, I’m tired of being tired, I’m tired about everything, and getting more sleep is helping, when I manage it, but it’s still not enough because sleeping doesn’t fix your brain.

I don’t know. I don’t even remember if I had a point somewhere in there. If I was even going somewhere.

I’m just tired, and I’d like for it to stop, thanks.

[daydreaminghaven]

I needed a rant

I'm just going to write this down because I don't know how else to deal with this at the moment. My roommate is an asshole, it's gotten to bad that at this point I'm literally on the verge of tears. She is inconsiderate and rude and I don't know what to do. Sometimes my gut just tells me to go fucking punch the shit out of her but I wont because I'm better than that. I know for a fact that she could never beat my ass and it's not like I'm scared of her it's just that I'm scared of losing this home. I don't want to move anymore and if I do result to violence I'll be out and who knows where I'll be next? The last thing I want or need is too be in another fucking group home which will be right where I'm headed if I lose this place. '

And what could make me come to all of this? When I first met my roommate I knew we were not going to become close friends it was like I could see the future. You know when you meet someone and you just feel their negative energy? Well it was like that with her. Nevertheless, being that I just came out of a hellish rehabilitation program it was a miracle that I somehow was given a foster home. Foster homes are very, very rare for someone my age- especially coming from someone who was currently in a rehab. All anyone wants are little kids, and as a matter of fact my foster parent even admits she wasn't going to take me because she herself only wanted young kids. The only reason she took me is because I have an interest in church, quote me.

If I had to go to a group home then so be it, but now that I'm here I don't want to lose what I have. The problem with group homes is that they occupy too many people. Just imagine what its like to be living with 5-9 teenage girls mixed in with 3 or 4 tired, angry under-payed, overworked staff members (that switch out 3 times a day) all under the same roof. It's not pretty. There's ALWAYS fights, there's ALWAYS drama, ALWAYS something weather it be someone running away, two or more girls not getting along or a staff member not doing their job, or overstepping boundaries; there is constant stress. All. The. Time.

For someone who likes solitude, quietness, this kind of environment is- it's just horrible. It's already bad enough but then mix in someone who can't handle that kind of lifestyle and it can worsen their mental health, it can lead to self harm, suicidal ideations or worse. 

Once upon a time I used to be able to handle group homes, I just moved along when the drama happened, it was frustrating definitely (not just for me but for everyone), but it wasn't unbearable. But then I moved... And I moved again. And again. Then I started getting more fed up with it, then I started breaking down more easily, and self harmed, attempted suicide. I started to runaway, and use drugs... And every time I moved the staffs/therapists/supervisors seemed to care less and less and it was so frustrating. There were so many rules but so much unacceptable behavior slipping right under the rug!

And there was pretty much nothing you could do about it.

Then I got put in that rehabilitation and residential program which was some of the worst times in my life. It was like a bad group home to the max. You thought 9 teenage girls was bad? try 18-29. Together, all fucking day. No phones or internet, you had to be cut off- you couldn't even have a diary or pass notes without it needing to be checked everyday. You can bet there was fights and drama all the time, you couldn't leave the campus at all until months after you arrived. Not even mentioning that there was a strict schedule when to, sleep eat, shower, have mandatory groups that everyone hated. The staff in these places was even worse, virtually EVERYONE hated their job, and the staff in programs are allowed to put there hands on you if deemed necessary, and oh-fucking-boy did they. That power was abused way to fucking often but you want to try to run away? Straight to jail for 90 days just to get sent back and have to start all of your progress over from scratch... or possibly get sent to an even longer program.

These programs are technically 6 months but most people end up there for 8 to 9 months. You are given a set of 5 'levels' or 'phases' that you have to complete in order to get discharged from the program. Some kids are lucky and their insurance runs out and their parents can't pay to keep them there. I wasn't that lucky considering my parent is the state of fucking Florida. I'm grateful to be able to have good insurance and all but fucking hell that place was bad. Due to having to move to a switch different program 5 months after I was sent to my first program (over something that wasn't my fault, it had to due with medication issues which is a whole other story), I had to start all of my progress over and start the levels off from scratch. I spent 8 months in my second program making 13 months completely cut off from society (did I mention you weren't even allowed to watch the news?). That’s where I spent Christmas, Halloween, Mothers and Fathers day, even my birthday. I was discharged just two fucking days after my birthday. Just two. Anyways, the point is, I worked really, really hard to prove that I was responsible enough to get a foster home and I did. Even though my roommate is a fucking asswipe dealing with one girl is better than 9. At least I can kind of ignore her. But It's just so hard to act like it's not that bad she’s always

-touching and stealing my belongings -throwing actual garbage with bloody tampons in it over my ART SUPPLIES -always calling me disgusting and dirty when this bitches side of the closet -smells like fish -talking dirty to boys late at night (I don't want to hear about how you want to eat his ass. Stop it. Get some help.) -using my towel that I bathe with to clean the floor with BLEACH FUCKING BLEACH -USING MY LOAFERS AND WASH RAGS -plays loud angry rap music, or movies at full volume all night, usually until 2am, -or really early in the morning to wake me up WHEN SHE OWNS FUCKING HEADPHONES -Talks shit about me to everyone that comes through the door of this house (and loudly)

and I’m over here basically kissing her ass because anything is better than those fucking group homes. And I've tried to ask her to stop, or turn down her music, I've tried confronting her- and peacefully and respectfully but she either ignores me or gets violent. I've tried tried telling the foster parent, my therapist and no one is doing anything. I'm backed up into a corner. Like I said before, I'm not scared for my life, this bitch is like 5'3 (no offense to short people) but like I could kick her punk ass any day- and I would if I number 1.) wasn't trying to better myself and number 2.) cared about this home so fucking much. I just don't know what to do except pray and try to focus on other things. I wish I could just sleep in the living room. I keep breaking my headphones because I have to sleep with rain noises or something to drown out whatever she decides to play. Can you believe she has the audacity to wake me up just tell me to turn down my headphones when she tries to sleep? Like they aren’t even big headphones they are 6 dollar earbuds how loud can they be?! I do every single time though because I'm trying to 'stay blameless in Gods eyes' because I believe in karma and also if I didn't she would probably do something really petty like purposefully play loud music to wake me up even earlier or play it all night so I can't sleep. 

It really sucks. I have to live with this person for 110 more days (and, yes, I have it marked on my calendar) but one day she'll be gone and I wont have to deal (or smell) this person again. So hopefully I'll have some more learned patience by then. 

The whole reason for me even righting this is because yesterday she asked me to turn the light off in our room when I'm not using it (which is understandable, except you're never home anyways nor do you pay the bills) and of course when she came home the next day I made sure the light was off (did I mention the reason I'm not in the room when she comes home is because I avoid being in there when she is? My foster parent apparently thought that was important enough to report to my therapist like I have problems-But when I tell you whats actually going on you don't do anything about it so like...). Then today when came home I asked her to close the door when she goes in the room, while she was going to the room (because I can still hear whatever she plays from the living room). Guess what? She looked right at me, then walked to the room which is right across the living room and left the door wide open ON PURPOSE. Later on she said that basically it's not her job and that if I want it closed then I need to walk over and close it every time she leaves it open. It pissed me off so much that I just needed to write my feelings out because there isn't anything else I can do about it. Maybe when I'm older I'll look back on this and think 'wow look how strong you are now' and hopefully by then I'll be in a position where if someone is being an outright dick I can punch the shit out of them on the spot- I mean deal with them professionally.

just 110 more days Jasmine, you can do it. Do it for yourself girl do it for your boo thang

[imagining-supernatural]

Fibonacci Demons

My entry for Helen's Unpopular Songs Writing Challenge

Summary: The reader reminiscences about how Dean has helped her want to get better and beat her demons.

Word Count: 2161

Warnings: Depression, therapy session, drinking & drugs, angst in a way? Kind of like detached angst? That's what I was going for anyway. Dean being such a sweetheart.

A/N: Congrats on your followers @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba! This is an AU where the supernatural world doesn't exist and all of our monsters are mental and physical. (Wouldn't that be nice if that was an AU for real life too?) My "unpopular song" is My Demons by Starset which should totally not be an unpopular song because it's absolutely wonderful.

Based on the song My Demons by Starset

Version en Español: Fibonacci Demons

Rain spattered against the window. The soft raindrops seemed at war with the harsh wind. You stared at the glass as you tried to find the right words.

“You know, entropy is defined as a gradual decline into disorder.”

Now it was your fingers in your lap that drew your attention. They were always cold. Your toes too. The rest of your body was always fine, but your fingers and toes couldn’t seem to keep any warmth. Maybe that’s why you spent most of the day tangling, untangling, massaging, and pulling at your fingers. Anything to get some of that warmth to trickle down your arm and into your palm before spreading to the tips.

“Or, instead of entropy, you can use deterioration, degeneration, decline, and collapse.”

“Is that how you see your life?”

You finally looked up at the middle-aged man sitting across from you. His receding hairline and curved eyebrows made you believe that he really did care. Hopefully he did care. You were paying a lot for this session.

“Yes. It’s like a backwards Fibonacci Spiral. You know, the mathematic formula where you add zero and one to get one. Then you add one and one to get two. Then one and two to get three. Then two and three to get five. Then three and five to get eight. And you keep adding the last two numbers in the sequence until you have astronomically large numbers?”

“But a backwards version of that.”

A quick nod was your answer, but the therapist just watched you a moment longer and you felt compelled to explain.

“Like, instead of getting bigger and learning from the past, I’m breaking down. I’m not spiraling out into bigger and better things. I’m spiraling down the toilet drain. Something is dragging me backwards.”

“Something is dragging you backwards? What do you mean by that?”

The air felt different in this office than in the rest of the world. Was that a side effect of all of the psychology books on the wall, and the simple, yet tasteful trinkets sprinkled around the room? Whatever it was, the air felt… lighter. It was easier. Safer.

“I don’t really know. I feel like I’m just waiting for a switch to flip inside of me. I feel like… like someday I won’t be me anymore.”

“If that happens, do you know who you’ll become?”

“Not who. What.”

“What’re you putting in?”

Mike just grinned and finished shaking the rest of the mystery powder into your glass of vodka.

“Does it matter? Promise you’ll like it. Just try it.”

You were teetering on the edge of the line. The line between harsh reality and glorified escape. Whatever drug Mike just added to your drink would be sure to push you over the edge.

If you told anyone, they would think you were crazy. But you could feel all of your organs. No matter what you did, you could feel them blackening and rotting. Whatever sickness you had, it set you apart from the rest of your peers. They could always come back from nights like these with headaches and smiles. Not quite so for you.

But your glorified escape helped you forget your demons for a few hours.

Slowly, you forced your arm to lift the glass up to your lips.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

The glass was touching your bottom lip when you paused to consider this newcomer’s advice. His deep voice matched his cutting jawline and jade eyes perfectly. At no point in your entire history of parties like this had you ever laid eyes on such a perfectly symmetrical face.

“Why not?”

“Meg had some and she’s puking up everything she’s eaten in the last two weeks right now.”

He jerked his head towards the back of the house where you could see someone through the window, bent over a bush.

“I’m Dean, by the way.”

Just like that, the glass was slowly lowering from your lips and the spread of the dark rot inside of you started slowing.

“Y/N.”

“What do you think you’ll become if this switch flips?”

This office was much too clean. Everything seemed too shiny. It wasn’t someplace you should feel comfortable. You should be wracked with worry that your mere presence will defile the tidy space. But yet you stayed in the soft chair, massaging each knuckle of your fingers one by one.

“Have you ever watched any of those old movies with zombies or some sort of gross monster? The good movies before Hollywood romanticized everything. I’m talking about the skin rotting off of the bones, sunken eyes, stringy hair… You see those before?”

“Is that what you feel is inside? What is on the other side of the switch?”

A nod in response.

“Yeah. I just… They keep growing bigger and bigger. They’re everywhere. In my brain, my lungs, my stomach, my kidneys… Everywhere. I used to just get drunk and high to forget it all for a few hours, but that’s not enough. Not anymore.”

Small, pointy hands were clawing their way up your esophagus, trying to make you shut up. They didn’t want you to get help. They wanted to keep dragging you down. It would be easier to let them have their way. Follow the Fibonacci Spiral backwards until you were nothing, down to zero.

“Not anymore. What’s changed?”

Your answer was immediate.

“Dean.”

This was always the worst part. Waking up and coming down. Remembering the rot in your life. Figuring out where you were. Piecing together what you’d done last night.

“Mornin’ Princess.”

Squinted eyes barely made out a shirtless man in an unfamiliar kitchen. As he walked closer, your eyes slowly focused on his face and those alarmingly green eyes begged you to remember. You wanted to remember this man. Something about this man was important. Something about him made him important to you. Something…

“Where am I?”

“My place. Out by the railroad station.”

The party had been at Mike’s house. At least, you thought so.

“I’m glad you woke up. I was just trying to decide between pancakes and waffles for breakfast.”

“How about some water and aspirin?”

His chuckle danced across the air and settled into your bones. That’s when the realization hit. The rot. It wasn’t spreading anymore. It was just sitting in your tissues and cells, stagnant. For the first time since you could remember, you were standing still.

“Next to you on the table.”

There, two feet to your right, was a glass of water and a shot glass with three red pills in it. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to trust this stranger with a drink and pills, but you were so far past that point in your life, so you quickly downed everything.

“So, pancakes or waffles?”

“What happened last night?”

Even through this raging headache, you could tell that this man—Dean?—kept his apartment surprisingly clean for a guy. The couch you’d woken up on was comfortable and seemed to be stain-free. There was a recliner across the room, and a large, flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. A tasteful rug and coffee table rounded out the living room. This wasn’t a normal bachelor pad.

“You were pretty wasted last night. We talked for a while then you decided you wanted fries, so I took you to the diner and we ended up here where you passed out as soon as you sat down. I promise, nothing happened.”

Nothing? It wasn’t uncommon to wake up in some stranger’s bed. That seemed to be your weekend tradition. But the clothes you’d worn yesterday were still on your body, and there were two blankets on top of you. You weren’t used to this level of kindness. Usually men just wanted to get you drunk or high, have sex, then never see you again.

But Dean hadn’t touched you. He set out aspirin and water for you. He gave you blankets after you’d passed out on his couch. He intended to make you breakfast.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be? You’re not some serial killer, are you?”

There was a note of levity in his voice. A twinkle in his eye. A grin on his lips.

“No. Not yet, anyway. But you don’t even know me.”

It was only a matter of time before the rot took over your life. Maybe you wouldn’t let it get that far, or maybe you wouldn’t have a choice. Either way, you didn’t deserve people’s kindness.

“How about I make some breakfast and I get to know you, then? Maybe I can help you hide the bodies.”

After a quick wink, he stood up and headed back to the kitchen.

“Pancakes or waffles?”

“Dean. He’s the man who came with you today? The one waiting in the lobby?”

“Yeah. He’s my boyfriend.”

The rain was still pattering against the window. By now, more clouds had joined the war outside, darkening the room. Thunder pounded distantly, but this room felt safe. You were safe here. Not quite as safe as you were when you were with Dean, but you were still safe enough.

“How did Dean change this? You said that getting high and drunk isn’t enough anymore. What did he change about that?”

“I don’t want to escape anymore. When I was numbing myself, I was just forgetting about the monsters inside of me, but they were still there. They were still growing and multiplying and planning attacks. Then I met Dean and… and they stopped. They didn’t leave, but they stopped growing. When I’m with him, everything stands still. I’m not losing the fight, because they aren’t fighting back.”

Movement caught your eye and one of those perpetual motion toys caught your attention. Three separate silver rods swung around a fulcrum, never slowing and never stopping.

“I want that. I want to keep moving. Keep moving forward. I don’t want to lose to my demons and I don’t want to stand still. Dean makes me feel better. He takes all of my pain away. But I don’t want him to have to do that. I don’t want to have any pain that he needs to take away. I don’t want to keep worrying that I’m going to turn into my demons and he’ll have to deal with that. I want to… I need to get better.”

What is it about candles that make truth come out? Is it easier to whisper harsh truths to a flame, knowing that as soon as you blow it out, your secret will dissipate with the smoke?

“I won’t let that happen, I promise.”

Dean’s vow skipped across the warm water and slowly sunk into the tub. In the darkened, candle-lit bathroom, and with the smooth water in the big tub curling around you and Dean, soft words were spoken and dark secrets revealed. Not once did he flinch as you introduced him to the monsters that had emerged from the growing rot within you.

“What if you can’t help? What if I’m just crazy and it’s my destiny to give in and lose control?”

“Then I’ll save you. But you aren’t crazy, Y/N.”

It seemed impossible that someone could become so important to you in the span of just a few weeks. That someone could love you, even after you peeled back your skin and showed them the dark mush that had replaced your organs. This moment, the moment with Dean’s chest pressed against your back, and the warm, relaxing water hugging your bodies shouldn’t exist.

“I can’t stop it, Dean. I’ve lived with this for so long and I can’t fight it. It’s taking control and I don’t know what to do.”

“You let me help. You keep talking to me about this. And… maybe we go find someone else who can help too. I promise, Y/N. We will kill your monsters.”

“Thank you, again. I’ll see you in a week.”

After a quick, firm handshake, you were watching your therapist walk back to his office. A sharp fingernail dragged across your intestines. The monsters were still there. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of them. You were still a single raindrop in the torrential windstorm outside. Helpless.

But it wouldn’t always be like this.

“How’d it go?”

Dean’s familiar hand warmed the small of your back. No time was wasted as you turned and hugged him. His arms blanketed you in comfort and reassurance. There was an unbelievably huge battle waiting for you in the future, but you weren’t alone.

“Keep making me believe everything will be okay. I can do this. But I can’t do it without you.”

His strong, calloused fingers framed your face. He lowered his forehead to yours. The contact calmed the storm within you, freezing the demons.

“You’ll never have to do this without me, Y/N.”

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Mobile Masterlist

[suckitsurveys]

Do you like your pop tarts toasted or cold? Either way

Do you like sitting in the front, back, or middle of the classroom? The back, usually.

What color is the last rug you stepped on? Grey.

Who was the very first person you sent a text message to? A boy.

Do you ever see commercials for restaurants that aren’t even in your area? I don’t think so. Not recently, anyway. A few years back they’d play Jack in the Box commercials and the closest one to Chicago is near St. Louis. which is like 3-4 hours away...

What’s your least favorite flavor of candy? Grape.

Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightening before? Nope.

Which is worse: living where there’s lots of tornadoes or lots of hurricanes? I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been in either.

Do you prefer baths with or without bubbles? Bubbles are nice but it’s not a necessity.

Have you ever thought your pet was dead but really wasn’t? Yes. My dad’s dog cosmo freaks me out all the time like that. He’s very old and we’re pretty sure he’s semi deaf so sometimes you can like stomp right next to where he is laying and he won’t even flinch.

What would you do if you had the world to yourself for a day? Nothing too out of the ordinary unless this day to myself also came with a bunch of money.

Would you consider becoming a stripper if it was the only way to support your child? There’s nothing wrong with that.

Do you take anything for your cramps during that time of month? No.

Are you good at remembering little details? Yeah, usually.

What do you think you’d be better at: being an artist or a musician? Artist.

Have you ever seen a black rose? Yes.

Do you blog? Tumblr barely counts.

Are you a fan of cottage cheese? No.

Do you believe in angels? I like to believe my mom is somewhere looking after me.

Do you have any window stick-ons? Yeah.

Would you pay if your dog needed an operation? ...Of course?? If I owned a dog (the dog mentioned a few questions back is my father’s), I would definitely pay for it to have an operation, I have a soul.

Is your coffee machine plugged in right now? We don’t have one.

Do you write words on your knuckles? No.

Have you ever been a SCUBA diver for Halloween? Nope.

Have you ever taken a picture of a sandwich? Oh yes.

Have you ever seen elephant droppings? At the zoo, yes.

Would you like to visit Play Dough Land? That sounds like fun.

Have you ever read about Rome? Sure?

Do you remember Topanga from Boy Meets World? How could I forget our lord and savior Topanga Lawrence? <---I like Kayla’s answer.

Have you ever lost your parents in the grocery store? Yeah.

Have you drawn a star today? I have not.

Is anybody in your house sleeping? The cat might be.

Are you older or younger than fifteen? I am 13 years older than 15.

Do you have any friends that got married within the past year? Hi Hannah! <--Oh jeeze that’s me.

When was the last time you used a pair of ear/headphones? Yesterday at the gym.

Have you ever tried to count to infinity? Nope.

Do you like making mixed cds? I loved making them when they were still a thing.

Would you want to live forever if it meant being a tree? Eh.

What is the strangest thing you’ve put chocolate on? I’m not sure. I’ve had a chocolate bar with bacon in it, and one with potato chips in it. Does that count?

Could you earn a good living selling weed? Nah.

How would you use a photographic memory? Uh.

Who would you like to keep in your trunk? I’m okay.

What would you do tomorrow if you had $500? Oh my god that would be AMAZING.

What body hair gets the most attention? Wait, what do you mean? Like from other people? Or what I give the most attention when caring for? This is weird.

What’s your favorite commercial? I don’t have one right now.

Do you like pie? Pumpkin pie, yes.

Do you appreciate dishwashers? I get waaaay too heated about dishwashers. Why would you go through the extra steps of loading a machine and buying extra soap when you have to pre-rinse the dishes anyway? Just take the fifteen minutes and wash your fucking dishes. <---Dishwashers are WAY more sanitary and you don’t have to stand there and rinse them 100 times to make sure they are clean. And it doesn’t take up counter space where you’d have to dry the dishes.

If you could change someone else’s past, what would you change? I’d change my sister’s past to where she never fucking met her fucking piece of shit fucking husband. But somehow also keep my niece here and the same cute little person she is

What’s the worst experience you don’t remember? Apparently I used to projectile vomit A LOT as a baby.

Are your dreams usually cheerful? No.

If you’re a girl, what’s your favorite color of eyeliner? Black is fine.

How’s the weather where you are at? It fucking snowed and I hate it.

Anything bad happen today? Miles almost started on fire. He had a vape battery in his coat pocket and he went to pick up his coat and the battery and his pocket were flaming.

Can you solve a Rubik’s Cube? No.

What was the last thing that you microwaved? Soup yesterday.

Did you have an easy-bake oven when you were little? No.

Have you ever seen a donkey? Yeah, at a petting zoo.

Do you like sheep? Sure.

Do you like dogs? Yeah, not as much as I like cats, though.

Do you have one? Cosmo, my dad’s dog. He’s kinda mine too.

Do you ever want to be married? I am.

Do you take a lot of pictures? I do.

Where is the boy you want most? At home. We have a date tonight!

Where will you be 2 hours from now? Home. Maybe on out way to Outback to beat the crowd.

What is your current mood? I hate. But I am also excited.

Where are you going tomorrow? We might go hiking in a forest preserve unless its ungodly cold and snowy again tomorrow.

Who was the last person you yelled at? Mark, maybe.

Do you think you’ll be a good Mother/Father? I’m not going to find out.

The last thing you drank? Water.

What’s in your pocket? Nothing.

What colour are your fingernails? There are chips of black paint on them from Halloween.

Have you ever left school just because you didn’t want to be there? Yes, in college.

Did anything cute happen today? Mark kept sending me gifs of Dustin from stranger things.

What are you currently hearing? My coworkers talking in the distance.

Are you afraid of the dark? Only in an unfamiliar place.

Do you usually tell people when they hurt your feelings? Depends on the person and the degree of hurt feelings.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: My 22 Goals for 2019 Week 49 of 52

My 22 Goals for 2019

Goal #1 Spend More Time Doing What I Love

Red alert people, RED ALERT. It was 6 degrees this morning when I woke up. SIX!!! That.Is.Chilly. The Girl and I were going to walk Lucy on the beach this morning but those plans have been scraped. Gaaaa. I think if its 6 degrees outside, all bets are off and you can most certainly declare it a pajama day. Whos with me on this?

Goal #2 Garden, Garden, Garden

Garden are done for the year. Yipee!

Goal #3 Plant an Orchard {Calling it Quits on this one.}

Lemon baby #3 is on the way and we are patiently awaiting her arrival.

Goal #4 Gussy Up the Potting Shed Done!

I gussied up the potting shed at our old house, but I would like to add some sort of potting station to the backyard here somewhere, but Im not sure where I would put it yet.

I did come across this photo on Author Susan Branchs Instagram page though of a picture she tooth at Colonial Williamsburg. Isnt it cute? I think I need one of those.

Goal #5 Grow Enough Extra Vegetables, Eggs and Flowers to Earn $1500 at my little roadside vegetable stand.

It was totally my intention to grow a ton of fruits and vegetables to sell at the farm-stand when I made my list of goals for 2019 last winter, but then we moved. So, that whole goal was sort of a bust. I do miss it though.

Goal #6 Finish Every Single Unfinished Rug Hooking Project in My Pattern Bin + 10 Things from back Issues of Magazines/Books Ive Been Meaning to Make.

While I didnt add any new finished hooked rug pieces in my Etsy shop this past week, I did hook 4 totally new rugs {1 of which will become a kit and 2 will be offered as patterns} as well as hand dyed a bunch of wool {that I was able to get listed in my Etsy shop}.

I have decided to go back to my old schedule of only listing new hooked rugs items on the first Friday of every month for next year as it seems less stressful to me. It allows me more time to hook, rather than stopping every few days to take photo, write up description and then post a single piece online. Doing it all in one big swoop seems less chaotic to me.

73 rugs in my pattern bin {now down to 16} < SO CLOSE!

183 hooked flowers {finished 150, now down to 33}

10 things from back issues of magazines {finished 0}

Goal #7 Create 12 New Rug Hooking Patterns {with at least half of them being large ones} DONE!

So far this year Ive added 12 new rug hooking patterns and 14 beginner rug hooking kits to my Etsy shop. I just added Santa and Rudy 1892 yesterday and am hoping to squeeze one more kit in before the end of the year.

New rug hooking patterns Ive created and added to My Etsy Shop this year:

Santa and Rudy 1892

Tullia and Thomas Turkey

Double Nantucket Whale Runner

Miss Henny and Penny

Miss Penny

Simple Kitty

Primitive Flowers

2 Fat Cats

Annabells Big Day

Old Fashioned Double Tulip

Fat Brown Hen

Busy Little Bee

Queen Bee

Rug Hooking Kits

Busy Little Bee {in 2 different colors}

Folk Art Heart

Small Nantucket Whale

Primitive Crow

Miss Robin {in 2 different colors}

Simple Kitty

Primitive Flowers

Sunflowers

A Basket of Spring Posies

Fat Brown Hen

Chickys Garden

Goal #8 Split and Stack 2 Cords of Wood for Next Winter

All that firewood! We sold it.

Goal #9 Do Something with the 5,002 Photos on My Phone

Currently at 2415 Back up to 2565.

Goal #10 -Lose the Muffin Top Done!

Sweet digity!

Goal #11 Run, Walk or Crawl a 5k, 10k, Half Marathon and Marathon

As long as its not pouring rain tomorrow. The Girl and I are on for the Half Marathon. Wish us luck!

Goal #12 Read or Listen to 26 New Books {21 down, 5 to go}

No new books this week but we are planning a trip to the library later this week.

Books Ive Read or Listened to So Far This Year:

Marilla of Green Gables #1 Still my favorite

The Great Alone #2

The Aviators Wife #3

Before We Were Yours #4

Secrets of a Charmed Life #5

Whered You Go, Bernadette #6

Carnegies Maid #7

The Gown #8

Unbroken #9

Drama#10

The Alice Network #11

The Shape of Mercy #12

Wills Red Coat #13

Big Little Lies #14

Mr. Churchills Secretary

Born to Run

I Feel Bad About My Neck

Bunny Mellon {Doesnt count because it was my second time}

On Writing {Doesnt count because it was my third time}

Walden

Finders Keepers

Delicious!

50 Things to Do in Maine Before You Die

Following Atticus

Goal #13 Try 52 New Recipes.

39 down, 13 recipes to go. We tried 2 new recipes this week. 1 was a dud and the other I will share on Tuesday. And its a good one!

Goal #14 Clean Up 52 Old Recipes on the Blog

9 down, 44 to go. Why did I make this goal? Note to self: Make fewer goals for next year.

Goal #15 Fill 100 Canning Jars 72 down, 28 to go.

I made a batch of Christmas Jam for gift giving PLUS I tried a new recipe {that was inspired by Mrs. HB} this past week and the HH and I loved it so much, that Ill be making another batch {or maybe 2} of it today {Ill share the recipe on Tuesday}.

So far this year Ive I canned:

9 Jars of..

6 jars Christmas Jam

7 jars Spiced Pomegranate Jelly

7 jars Peach Jam

7 jars of Strawberry Jam

15 jars of Carrot Cake Jam

15 jars of Spiced Pear Jam

4 jars of Almond Pears.

Goal #16 Finish Furnishing Our House

We finished the roman shades for the kitchen nook and kitchen window. I plan on taking a break from making roman shades for the next month so I can finish making kits for my Etsy shop and paint out the entire kitchen area as well as finish a couple of art projects for the walls.

Goal #17 52 Dates with the HH {44 down, 8 to go}

The HH and I went on 2 date days this past week and one of them was to the Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village for their Shaker Christmas Fair and it was so overwhelming, we left after 5 minutes.

Overwhelming in the sense that although we could tell there was going to be a lot of people at the event by the distance we had to walk to the village, what we werent expecting was that once we walked in the doors of the trustees office {where the craft fair was being held}, it was SHOULDER to SHOULDER.

Like, being at a rock concert crowded. The HH didnt even make it 2 feet in before walking out and it took me nearly 5 minutes to get from the entrance and through 3 rooms and back out the door again without even being able to look or pick up anything it was so crowded. It was nuts. And totally not in the calm, welcoming Shaker spirit and all we wanted to do was leave. And so we did.

I do want to go back though at some point to visit the museum, but it will have to be an ordinary weekday with nothing on the event calendar, thats for sure.

Goal #18 Take One Adult Education Class Done {Ive taken 3!}

Block Printing Class with my neighbor.

Spoon Carving Classwith Heather.

Mini pottery lesson {I loved it! and now I want to sign up for a full class}

Goal #19 Secret Holiday Project{s}

Block print towels

Seed packet wreaths

Tea Bag Trees

Goal #20 Create 12 Wowie Zowie Party Platters

8 down, 4 to go. We are planning on making #9 tonight!

Goal #21 Visit 12 General Stores

10 down 2 to go. We visited a new country store yesterday!! The kind that offers human made {and local} baskets to customers to do their shopping with. Ill tell you all about it next week.

H.B. Provisions in Kennebunk, Maine

Chases Daily {I think it should count}

Squam Lake Marketplace

Harrisville General Store

Dodges Store in New Boston, New Hampshire

Zebs General Store in North Conway, New Hampshire

Dan and Whits in Norwich, Vermont

Husseys General Store in Windsor, Maine

Goal #22 Compete with Carole.. Get on My Front Door Game On

Would you believe not a single person walking by {or even a neighbor} has made a comment about the leg lamp in the window? I think theyre showing restraint, while my husband keeps telling me that they are in such awe of it, they just dont know what to say.

Ummmm Okay.

Front Door Bling Ive Made So Far This Year to Compete with Carole:

Late January : Valentine Heart

Late February : Shamrock

Late March : Giant Carrot

May: White wave petunia hanging basket

June/July: Tin Star and Flag Bunting

August : Sunflower

September: Indian corn and pumpkins

October: Pumpkins and spinner do hickeys

November: Indian corn and big pumpkins

December: Leg lamp and nutcrackers in the window and giant Christmas balls on the porch

**************

How about YOU? What are your goals for 2019? If you told us about them HERE, check in! We want to know how you are doing. Because seriously, its so much easier to get those goals checked off your list when you have people rooting for you!

Have a great day everyone,

Mavis

P.S. If you are looking for a last minute gift for neighbor or a friend, I still have a few ornaments left in my Etsy shop and you can find them all HERE. UPDATE: The barred rock chicken is sold out but there are a few more chicken ornaments HERE.

You can read more about my 22 goals for 2019 HERE.

Have a Great Day!

The post My 22 Goals for 2019 Week 49 of 52 appeared first on One Hundred Dollars a Month.

This content was original published at One Hundred Dollars a Month and is copyrighted material. If you are reading this on another website it is being published without consent.

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My 22 Goals for 2019 Week 48 of 52

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/my-22-goals-for-2019-week-49-of-52

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “One More Day” (Rated PG13)

Tony Award winner Kurt Hummel spending one last, perfect day with his husband, Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Blaine Anderson, before his tour of duty begins.

This is also a re-write. Warning for heavy angst and mention of character death. Otherwise, I’m not giving too much away on this one. Enter at your own risk. 

Read on AO3.

Kurt whisks his bowl of egg whites until his omelet base is dangerously close to becoming meringue. Standing in front of the kitchen stove with a huge lump in his throat, his eyes dart to the microwave clock, the switching numbers causing him to jump as if they’re gun shots going off without warning. He’s waited too long. He shouldn’t be down here making breakfast. He should be upstairs, waking his husband.

They haven’t even started their day, and he’s already doing everything wrong.

The numbers flip again, and Kurt hears his husband start to descend the stairs. His heart skips a beat, but he keeps whisking, not ready yet to turn around and face him.

Blaine runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, and checks the same clock Kurt has been keeping vigil over for the past few hours. He scoffs, making his way to the kitchen table on uncharacteristically unsteady legs.

“So, either you let me sleep late, or you’re still not talking to me,” he mumbles, taking a seat at the table and resting his head on his arms. He watches Kurt bounce between pots and pans on the stove, preparing what looks like a colossal meal, and he groans.

“Are you expecting guests for breakfast? Because I’m not really in the move to receive visitors this morning.”

“No,” Kurt says, cursing the waver in his voice. He prepares two plates, piling them high with eggs, waffles, biscuits and gravy … everything he knows Blaine likes. He takes a deep breath, counts to three, and steels himself. In one fluid move, like ripping through a seam, he turns to face his husband sitting at the kitchen table, and gasps. Blaine sits straight up, looking around for what caused Kurt to react like that, whatever flaw has offended Kurt’s eye. Did Blaine leave his dirty boots on the Persian rug by accident? He made certain to stomp them clean outside and leave them in the garage – he knows he did. Is it him, looking like death warmed over, with his bloodshot eyes and freshly trimmed but messy hair? Blaine swears Kurt has tears in his eyes when he walks to the table and sets the plates of food down in front of him. Blaine eyes Kurt with concern, considering his offering of this incredible meal with suspicion.

“So, you’re not still mad at me for taking one last tour of duty?”

“No. No, I’m not.” Kurt sniffles.

“But … what about your new musical?” Blaine tilts his head to look into Kurt’s stormy eyes. “And everything you said last night about …?”

“I don’t care about that! About any of it!” Kurt rushes around the table and throws himself into his husband’s arms. Blaine pushes his chair back to accept him, letting Kurt fall into his lap and drape his body over him, and Kurt holds Blaine, tighter than he ever remembers holding him.

He hugs him like he’s afraid to let him go.

“Just forget it? Please? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said, for every fight we’ve ever had. For every time I couldn’t admit I was wrong. Please, just …”

"Kurt? Honey, what’s wrong?” Blaine tries to pull Kurt’s gaze up to meet his, but Kurt buries his face into the crook of Blaine’s neck and breathes in deep. “Kurt, you’re trembling, sweetheart.”

Kurt braves a peek from where he’s hid his face against Blaine’s neck, finding hazel eyes looking back at him, wide awake and brimming with worry.

“I … I just … I’m scared, Blaine. Scared you’ll go away to some far off country and never come back.”

Blaine’s concerned expression melts into a relaxed and somewhat cocky grin. “Oh, baby. We’ve been over this. I’m invincible, remember?”

“Yeah.” Kurt sniffles again, nodding sadly. “Yeah … you’re invincible.”

Blaine runs a hand down Kurt’s spine, and holds him against him until he stops trembling.

“How about we go out for some retail therapy? Hmm? Saks, Bloomingdale’s, you name it. We’ll see how close to the limit we can get on the new gold card. What do you say?”

Kurt’s head snaps up to look at the clock. It’s almost noon. It’s getting so late already.

“No,” Kurt says. “No, not today. Let’s stay home.” He turns back to Blaine’s surprised face and presses tentative lips against his husband’s skin. He feels an old, familiar spark travel across his mouth, making him tremble harder, just when he’d stopped. He pecks a path across Blaine’s cheek, blazing a trail of progressively needier kisses towards his husband’s mouth. “Let’s go back to bed, and not get up again until the president himself pulls you out.”

Blaine’s eyes roll back, and he moans at the double entendre.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.” Blaine lifts Kurt off his lap while Kurt continues to kiss him, carrying his husband upstairs to get started on their perfect last day together.

***

Kurt wakes up alone.

The room he’s in, dreary and gray, reveals itself beneath the dim, bluish light. The center has worked hard to get the details right, but little things are amiss if he really takes the time to notice them. The pale blue paint on the walls isn’t exactly the same shade of Powdered Robin’s Egg that Blaine had picked out for them when they first moved into their small house in San Diego. The knick-knacks on the shelves are only cheap imitations of the Hummels Blaine’s mom had originally started buying for Kurt as a joke on their second date … the same ones Kurt smashed to pieces with his fists the day he found out.

Kurt climbs out of bed slowly, fighting through a fog of his own depression as he starts to get dressed, pushing away the idea that all of this, and everything he went through to get it, doesn’t make things any easier than they were before.

He takes his time fixing his face and his hair, even though he couldn’t care less at this point. It doesn’t matter if he looks perfect. That’s not why he’s stalling. He doesn’t want to leave his purgatory just yet and plummet back into reality, which will seem like hell at this point.

When he’s okay with the mask he’s created, he walks downstairs to the kitchen, down that same staircase his husband walked yesterday morning, a short 24-hours ago. His publicist and best friend, Rachel Berry, meets him there. She looks him over, quietly fixing buttons on his shirt that are fastened wrong, and turns out a portion of his collar that is partially tucked. Kurt’s blank eyes remain glued to the imitation hardwood floor, so close in style to their real floor, which he and his husband had made love on many, many times.

But not this one. This one is sanitary, and a little too glossy.  

It’s not real, just like him now and the life he leads. A façade.

“Are you ready?” Rachel asks, trying to gauge her friend’s state of mind.

Kurt opens his mouth to answer, but as he barely has the energy to handle his life right now and he knows the worst is yet to come, he ends up nodding in response.

“Okay,” she says, smiling for his sake, but she doesn’t feel it. This cold, impersonal house and her heartbroken friend drain every inch of happiness from her body. “Let’s go. The vultures are waiting.”

They walk through the living room of the replica house and out the front door into a large, two-level laboratory. A congregation of doctors dressed in coats too white to be taken seriously appear out of the woodwork, their expressions a mixture of carefully hidden eagerness and practiced compassion. But Rachel, anticipating their approach, throws herself into the fray.

“Mr. Hummel has nothing to say to you at this time, ladies and gentlemen,” she heads them off firmly. “I am sure he’ll be willing to meet with you in a week to answer all of your questions.”

“My apologies,” the lead lab coat says, “but it’s crucial for our research if he …”

The doctor’s insistence stops short at Rachel’s icy glare. She may be petite, but she is fierce. A single flash of her fiery brown eyes have brought much more important and intimidating people than this lab rat to their knees.

“Of course,” the doctor recants. “Whenever Mr. Hummel is ready. We’ll wait.”

The doctors part like The Red Sea to let them pass, and Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. But they were only the preview. The main feature, gathered outside for the past week, will be more daunting and less easy to dissuade.

Rachel holds Kurt’s elbow while she guides him through a maze of brightly lit hallways until they finally reach the lobby. Kurt, who’d been walking on autopilot, content to let Rachel lead while he followed, stops at the glass double doors, his hands poised on the tension bar. He becomes nauseous at the feeling of sunlight on his face, and at the murmur of voices beyond, already yelling at him before he’s even emerged. He swallows hard to fight back the urge to vomit.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rachel whispers. “Just … take your time.”

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut. He locks himself back in a moment from last night when he looked into Blaine’s eyes, saw his husband smile, kissed his lips and heard him say, “I love you,” and takes one final, steadying breath. He leans on the tension bar and opens the door a second before he opens his eyes again. He walks out, and is greeted by the largest crowd of people he has ever seen in his life, even with his overwhelming success on Broadway. Reporters race towards him, microphones at the ready to catch every word Kurt has to say. Security officers from the center along with Kurt’s own bodyguards hold their arms outstretched to keep the reporters at bay, but that doesn’t keep them from firing off question after question, barely giving Kurt time to answer. Beyond the reporters stand flocks of protestors holding signs aimed directly at him and the cameras.

“Here we are now with Tony Award winner Kurt Hummel as he leaves the Second Chance Regeneration Center,” he hears a reporter from CNN rattle off. “As the public knows, Kurt Hummel’s husband, Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Blaine Anderson, was killed by insurgents overseas over five years ago. Mr. Hummel is the first client who has actually gotten the opportunity …”

Kurt tunes the reporter’s voice out, but another voice takes its place.

“… enough of Staff Sergeant Anderson’s DNA was recovered in the rubble of the explosion to allow Mr. Hummel one last day with a fully regenerated version of his husband. Had more DNA been recovered, days, weeks, even months might have been possible …”

Kurt hears Rachel placating reporters with rehearsed remarks while she escorts him through the crowd. He walks numbly to his SUV, ignoring the microphones, the cameras, and the hands that reach out to him, some people cheering their support, but just as many screaming in revulsion.

“This is unnatural!” faceless people cry. “Ungodly! Inhuman! Let the dead rest in peace!” They chase their commentary with Bible verses like they’ll mean anything to him, like a single word from a book that so many people use against him is going to change his mind.

Crueler jeers are tossed his way, insinuations that link his decision to regenerate his husband with the “perversion” of his sexual orientation. This has, for months, sparked a debate which has put the rights of LGBT+ people in jeopardy. Because of this, Kurt has received death threats from both sides of the argument, but he doesn’t register them. Let some psychopath with an ax to grind over religion or marriage equality follow him into a dark alley and shoot him through the skull.

What does he have to lose now anyway?

He reaches his vehicle, his chauffeur waiting till the last minute before opening the door. Rachel leaves his side, giving one reporter an opening. The young rookie weeds his way through the crowd before Kurt can slide into the safety of his seat and calls out a single question.

“Was it worth it, Mr. Hummel?”

The voice carries through the cries of the crowd and hits him like a sledgehammer.

Kurt turns toward the young man, his face expressionless.

“What was that?” Kurt asks quietly.

The reporter, stunned at actually being addressed, quickly pulls himself together before he can lose the nerve to ask his question again.

“You paid $3.5 million to get one last day with your deceased husband,” the man clarifies, hoping to sound confident in the face of Kurt’s cold, grey glare, “a decision widely regarded as ill-advised by not only respected members of the scientific community, but obviously, the faithful. It’s a decision that may also cost you your career. Was it worth it?”

Everyone around them has gone silent – the reporters, the bodyguards, Rachel. Even the protestors, holding their hateful signs over their heads, wait on the cusp of that question to see what Kurt has to say.

Kurt lets go of the breath he’s holding, and in spite of himself, in spite of the pain, in spite of the agony of living the rest of his life alone, he smiles.

“It was worth every penny.”

[theresilent]

For Him.

Can’t touch my phone without my hands shaking. 

Longing for that sound and green light to blink on the screen. 

But I guess this is my fault, 

I allowed it to happen. 

Even though I foolishly begged, cried for your mercy for you not to ruin me. 

I trusted you with my heart, our love...with my body. 

How ironic you’re the one that walked away and shut me down when I finally listened to start letting go. 

I hope that one day I can forgive you for all this, but right now...

I love you too much to hate you and then let you go. 

The worst part is I can’t beg for you back, ‘cause then it wouldn't be real.

And I know your mind is made up about me, 

You tore me open, let me spill out and let me drop as you pulled the rug from underneath my feet. 

Still trying to catch my breath from when you knocked the wind out of my heart. 

Oh these eyes cry rivers for you. 

What the fuck where you thinking?

We won’t ever be together and oh my god does this wreck me, chew at my heart and crack slowly in my mind. 

We showed love to so many good songs, music doesn’t sound the same to me now. 

The bed doesn’t mean a restful place to me anymore. 

The shower isn’t just a place to get clean to me anymore. 

You changed so much in so little time, give it back. 

I hate I sit here waiting knowing that you’ll never show. 

A part of me is proud, that you are trying to take care of yourself...but did you have to step on me in the process? 

Was I that fucked up you couldn’t stand me?

I’m tired of my hands shaking, not sleeping in over 48 fucking hours. 

I screamed your name yesterday did you feel it?

I was a woman without a home until your arms wrapped around me, and now I have to face that I was evicted and those walls will be meant for someone else.

Thank you for showing me my body was worth loving, even if you could not stay. 

Thanks for doing the one thing I wanted for you..to go out and grow. 

I just feel sick thinking I won’t be the woman in your embraces anymore. 

I won’t be in that Jeep singing with you, 

I won’t be with you picking up food, 

To watch you just drive and be. 

To watch you get ready for work. 

To sit with you on my patio and smoke. 

And every time I pull back the shower curtain I like to picture you’ll be standing there with my towel to wrap me up. 

God this is breaking my fucking heart. 

I’m still alive for your love. 

Please don’t make me just another song. I rather exist in the whispers of the wind around you. 

Truth is you are a boy still lost and I was just hoping I was enough to stand by your side, but I was too hurt, too angry at the world still. 

I hate not talking to you, but I picture you doing just fine. 

Maybe I was just another girl to you..but you were so much more to me than you’ll ever know to me love. You showed me so much, drove me insane. But my love was..will always be forever genuine for you. I love you today like I’ll love you tomorrow. I have yet to stop smelling your hoodie just to catch the scent of you. I pile pillows behind my back to fool myself that it is you pressed against me, laying on your side like you always do. Dear I hope I don’t sound that pathetic. 

 Maybe one day I’ll wake up..and breathing will become easier...and your name won’t be the first thing I think of. You got me addicted and cut me off cold turkey..I wasn’t ready.  

But for now..in this moment I’m drowning in the the very thought of you. To have a flashback of every laugh, every hold and every smile. Every kiss that ignited such a powerful spark. Every word said and whispered as we laid together....

You were one of my soulmates. I’ll never doubt it...but the sad part is no one ever tells you that you can lose soulmates to... 

I’ll try to be good and let you go..to stop writing even though I doubt you’ll see this... I’m sorry we didn’t take more pictures together..and I’m sorry I wasn’t enough...

I fucking love you. Take care of yourself out there. Please. I’m sorry. There so much to say..but I suppose it best I quit.. I hope you find yourself my love. 

- Your dearest Lily  

P.S. I don’t regret you. Thank you for the short time we were together for letting me show you what I could never show anyone else.. It haunts me we never really got a chance.