#and then the littlest guy ever raws her.

[bigidiotenergytm]

ARE YOU KIDDINGGGGG

ody rn:

[just-shairahhh]

The Way I Loved You

Summary: Eddie and y/n were best friends since they were in middle school. But Eddie's life with Shannon and y/n's unrequited, one-sided love drove them apart. It has been years now. And everything has changed. Can two best friends find their way back to each other? Or has there been too much history? Is their space for someone new to step in and mend what broke y/n or will her past engulf her again?

Word Count: 2K.

You can read Part 2 here:

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"And then came the day when you stood by him at Church, not where you had dreamt of standing, facing him as his bride. But you were there as his best-woman, behind him, like you had stood all your lives. Watching from afar as he reached out for someone else".

You were thirteen, playing with your little sister in the front yard when you saw a car pull up in front of the house next to you, that had been sitting empty for months. And out walked the most chaotic family you had ever laid eyes on. Parents, brothers, sisters, grandparents; all clamouring over one another, speaking in a language you didn't quite unde. All trying to get a good view of the house. It was in that moment of chaos, at the naïve age of thirteen, you first understood the meaning of the word “Equanimeous” when your eyes met with the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. But you would be blind to not notice the swirl of caramel in them. It was as if you saw it all in his eyes, how the sun had itself come down, to embrace the rich earth, its hues promising hope and life. He stood right at the heart of the chaos, and while he was not physically a part of it, he carried all of life's turmoil, right inside of him.

One look at him and you knew. You knew that loving Eddie Diaz would prove to be just that, like you are standing in the middle of chaos. Always. But when he turned towards you, his cautious, kept eyes piercing through yours, you knew that it was already too late. So you did the only thing you could think of. You raised your hand, and you waved.

You were sixteen, sitting at the foot of his bed, doing homework together when Eddie confessed to you that you were the best friend he ever had. How you would listen to him and be there for him like no other. How you would understand him like no other. How he loved to listen to you gossip and go on and on about the littlest, most random things. And just as your heart had started to swell with all the emotions too complicated for a sixteen-year-old, they had all come to a crushing end just as quickly. For it was the same day that Eddie had confessed to you about his feelings for Shannon from middle school, for the first time.

As you lay in bed that night, the realisation hitting again and again, like tumultuous waves hitting the coast repeatedly till there is nothing left to salvage, that Eddie Diaz would never see you the way you see him. He would never find meanings of unexplainable emotions in your eyes. He would never find the peace in you, that you found in him. You realised that your best friend Eddie Diaz would never love you the way that you already love him. Whole-heartedly. Selflessly.

You were nineteen, high school somehow already a distant memory but your best friend still seared in your heart like a fresh pain. The past year was a whirlwind. You saw the only guy you had ever loved since you were thirteen, expecting a child with the only woman he had ever loved. And you were there for all of it, such was the cruel joke of life. You saw him slowly fall in love with Shannon, confess his raw, honest feelings about her, to you, call you with tears in his eyes when he got to know that Shannon was pregnant. And you were there for him for all of it, because to you, at the end of the day, he was your home, your Eddie and even if your best friend had slowly started to feel more like the chaos itself than your escape from it, you did not turn away.

And then came the day when you stood by him at Church, not where you had dreamt of standing, facing him as his bride. But you were there as his best-woman, behind him, like you had stood all your lives. Watching from afar as he reached out for someone else. So that day, after the ceremony, you wished your genuine best to a very pregnant Shannon and a dreamy eyed Eddie and never looked back. You had a flight to LA to catch to. A fresh start, you told yourself, leaving more emotional baggage than the physical ones you are taking. And in that same night, to the complete unknowing of your best friend of more than five years, with a new destination, a new determination and a new phone number that only your family was aware of, you left home. To never to turn back again.

You were twenty-two, living in LA, the traumas of your first love, now a faint scar in the back of your heart. Currently your heart was filled to the brim from the love of all your children. You were making your own way in the world, as a social worker, focusing on Child Protection and Child Rights Violation. You were connected with several NGOs, orphanages and other government organisations to uplift the condition of homeless and orphaned children. You were happy doing what you did and you were bloody good at it.

You had tried dating ever since settling here and even were in a relationship, but the fast paced dating world had left your old school ass behind a long time ago. And you weren’t ready to jump on that wagon again just yet, after your terrible history.

You were twenty-five, on your way to an appointment with the partners of the firm handling a very sensitive case related to the children of one of your NGOs when you got a call from your mom. Who said that Shannon had left Eddie and his son, Christopher, a while ago. Who said that Eddie was a single father providing for his son who got diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy a few years ago. Who said that to escape from the continuous pressure of his parents to leave Christopher with them, Eddie had moved away a while back. And that he had decided to come to Los Angeles. The call left you shocked but not shaken. And while you sent out a small prayer for Eddie and his son, a part of you was also happy and relieved that there were no memories or feelings rushing back, cramping your heart, filling you with heart break and panic at the mention of your ex-best friend. You smiled gratefully at how far you’d come and left your apartment for your meeting.

It was the same day that you were in a heated argument with one of the partners over the best outcome for the currently derailing situation when alarms started going off everywhere. “FIRE!” someone screamed and people started running out and about chaotically. And while you managed to get out safe, the flames had already escalated, filling smokes everywhere. You heard sirens from somewhere but before they could reach, your eyes fell upon a few of your colleagues who were in floors above yours and were now being evacuated in poor conditions. So you decided to step back and help.

That is when your eyes fell on Joyce, your best friend of six years and roommate, limping towards you. Joyce was a huge part of your healing after you had moved to LA. When they talk about female friendships being there for you and helping with all your life problems, they talk about people like Joyce. But right now, you could see her arm was burnt and could tell that it was a deep wound. You knew not to put a cloth or ice on a burn wound but you had no idea on exactly what to do. So while you ran to her and caught her in your arms, just as she collapsed on you, you were starting to panic yourself. And that's when the voices around got louder.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” You felt someone lightly touch your arm. You couldn’t look away from Joyce though. Your eyes tearing up. Was it from the smoke or for the pain your best friend was feeling? You couldn’t tell.

“Hey, are you hurt? Are you okay?” The voice asked again. An urgency in his gentleness.

“I- I am. But, but my frie...” You had started to panic again and could not reach to the end of your sentence. But you did not need to say more. The voice behind you, had already started to deal with the problem.

“Hey, Chim! I need some help here.”

And suddenly Joyce was taken from you. You started to scream, when the soothing voice behind you spoke up again.

“Hey, it’s okay. They are going to check her and treat her now. You did good. You need to get checked as well. It is okay. You are okay. So will she".

You turned around hastily, selfishly trying to pull all the comfort and warmth from him that you can. And when you found him, the source of the tranquil, you couldn’t help but gasp a little. For you were met with the most gorgeous pair of ocean blue eyes. And maybe it was the shock settling in, but everything else seized to exist as he looked down at you and smiled.

Guiltily, you were one of those people who seeked out what someone's eyes held when you first met them. Joyce always thought it was weird. But you countered it with a, "Weirder than, I don't know, checking out their haaaands?" and shut her up with a bombastic side eye.

And no matter what she said, you found that someone's eyes could say a lot about them. Or so you believed. However, you'd never met someone before today, whose eyes spoke of tranquility, of quiet or of peace. Everyone was fighting an inner battle. Anxious. Scared. Apprehensive. And even if the face hid most of it, the eyes could never. Even the boy you had fallen in love with the moment he looked at you, screamed chaos. And while you had found your peace back then in the havoc, that phantasm was quick to die down.

And just like that, you knew that the person checking you for injuries right now, as the world seized into a slumber from the minute you looked at him, was different. Very different.

Everything after that became a blur. The mop of brown hair, the owner of those magnetic blue eyes, long lost in the haze of the smoke.

And that brings you to today, a few weeks after the accident, a standing nervous ball of wreck in-front of the Fire Station 118, with a basket of muffins as a thank you from everyone for saving their lives. Yes, you are aware that there are other ways to send your gratitude, as sharply and knowingly pointed out by your best friend but you both knew that you had someone to find. Or maybe something. Something that you had felt missing in you for the longest time.

And that is when you saw him again. Leaning against a fire truck, a clipboard in his hands. You would think he was very seriously focusing on something, if it wasn't for his mischievous eyes, giving way to his stoic face. Apparently he saw you too, because you saw him put away the clipboard and make his way to you. And for the first time, you had the privilege to take in his appearance fully. His LAFD tshirt definitely doing justice to the fact that he works out regularly. You licked your lips unconsciously as you slowly took him in; from his chiselled jaw with that light stubble to his bulging biceps, down to his sculpted-

You quickly shake your head and mentally slap yourself as he stands before you now, hovering quite a few inches over you.

“H-Hey. Um...” He started.

“Um, hi. I am y/n. We met at the. I mean not met. I mean, could be met.” Great start. Another mental slap.

“No, totally. Totally met. I remember, ofcourse. How’s your friend? Oh, I am, um, am Buck. I mean, Ev-. Buckley. Evan Buck Buckley. Not like Buck as a middle name. Like, people call me... um, Buck. I am Evan.” He finishes softly.

You smile at his rambling and in his genuinity and sincerity, find something that you had always been seeking but never found. Something that felt like a soothing balm to the tears in the unrequited, unacknowledged corners of your heart.

“Hi, Evan. It is so nice to meet you. Again.” You smile. A carefree and maybe a little hopeful one.

And that’s when you hear it. The voice that you had grown up loving. The voice that you had moved on hating. The voice that had pulled you from the mayhem around. The voice that had pushed you right back into that seamless pit. That voice that was now calling your name, somewhat with disbelief.

“y/n?”

“Eddie.” You whisper softly.

And all the memories and emotions long pushed to the corner, comes crashing back.

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[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 13

Summary: Daryl arrives to the Greene residence to find Y/N laying in bed with her injuries from the gunshot wound in the woods.

Notes: The flashback in this chapter is in direct correlation to the scene where Daryl tells Andrea about a time he got lost in the woods for nine days when he was twelve years old. Also: reminder we’re going to be veering off canon for a little bit. Obvi have to add / take away with an extra character being hurt. We will mostly stay on the general plot line with some minor changes.

Forgive the relatively short chapter! Spend all day mostly packing between work. Enjoy!

As the bike roars with life under Daryl, he can’t help but think about Y/N even more. God, she was the only damn thing he could think about lately. If he was truly honest with himself, she was always on his mind. She would creep in even when they weren’t speaking–the littlest things reminding him of her. The time when she was at school, he would find traces of her all over his house, in the woods…it didn’t take much for her to come front of mind for him. From a pair of socks lost under his bed, full of holes and barely even white anymore to her initials in the tree by their lake spot. She was goddamn everywhere. He would curse to himself if anyone ever brought up her name when they ever drove with him anywhere, seeing her sharpie signature on the door of his truck. He never knew what to say. Girls that he would distract himself with would suddenly get all quiet and weird, the guys he would drive to dealer’s houses and back for Merle would crack jokes about who his ‘little girlfriend was’. It took all the willpower in the world not to knock them out the passenger seat in the moving vehicle and run them over with his truck tires. But Merle, surprisingly… Merle would never say a damn thing about it or her when he was with him. Maybe in the beginning days when he wanted to kick Daryl’s ass for letting her leave like that, after he heard about Shane coming by. But other than that, Merle seemed just as sad to see her go. Whether it was because he saw that Daryl had lost a piece of himself or Merle felt like he lost a friend too. He didn’t know, but either way he was silently grateful for that one piece of humility Merle had for him. 

x flashback x

Daryl hadn’t eaten in days. His stomach gnawed at him relentlessly as he plucked wild berries from bushes—anything to stave off the hunger. He didn’t even think to grab his dad’s crossbow when he wandered into the woods that day. It was supposed to be just a short trek. He knew these woods—knew them like the back of his hand– or so he thought.

But then the rabbit. He chased it too far, too fast, and suddenly the woods didn’t look the same. The trees were different, unfamiliar, their knotted roots like strangers, the trails he used to recognize now gone. No signs of his old paths, nothing to guide him back. When the sun began to set, the cold reality set in. He huddled under a fallen log, the weight of the darkness pressing in on him, fear creeping in as he realized just how far he’d wandered. He cursed himself remembering his dad had gone on some bender from the waitress that night— no telling when he’d be home. And Merle was still in Juvie for the next few weeks. By the third day, the anxiety clawed at him. He felt like the woods were closing in on him, suffocating him. After digging a small hole to take care of business, he wiped himself with the nearest leaf—poison oak. It wasn’t until his skin started to burn and itch that he realized his mistake. The days that followed were hell. His hands and ass were on fire, the relentless itching driving him close to madness. Desperation made him remember the snares he'd shown Y/N how to make. He used some brush and an old shoelace to set one up, and when he finally caught a chipmunk, he didn’t hesitate. Cutting it open with his switchblade, he ate it raw, too hungry to care about anything but filling his belly.

On the ninth day, Daryl thought he might lose his mind completely. He tried marking trees, tying strips of his shirt around them to track where he’d been, but no matter how far he walked, he kept finding that same tattered strip of fabric. The realization that he was going in circles gnawed at him almost as badly as the hunger. Lying under a tree, his body weak and mind clouded, he heard something—his name. No, he thought, just my head playin' tricks. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the noise to stop, trying to push past the exhaustion and haze.

“Daryl? What the hell?”

The voice was closer now, too real to ignore. His eyes blinked open, squinting against the sun, which formed a halo around the face of someone standing over him. For a moment, he couldn’t make out who it was—his vision was blurred, unfocused.

Then, a familiar hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back to reality.

“Daryl, what happened?” Her voice—Y/N’s voice—finally broke through. He blinked hard, struggling to make sense of her being there, his dry lips cracking as he tried to speak.

“Y/N?” His voice rasped, hoarse from days without use.

“Yeah, idiot. Where the hell have you been? It’s been days,” she said, hands cupping his dirt-smeared face, her fingers brushing over the scratches and bruises. He winced as she touched the raw spots, and she quickly whispered a soft, “Sorry.”

She grabbed him by the arms, hauling him to his feet, though his legs felt like they might give out beneath him.

“Got lost,” he muttered, the words barely leaving his throat.

“Don’t tell me I know these woods better than you now,” she teased, and for a moment, his lips twitched in what almost felt like a smile.

“C’mon, let’s get you back. I’ll make you a sandwich,” she said, gripping his hand tightly and pulling him toward home.

x flash forward x

As he approaches the mailbox with the faded painted “Greene” name, Daryl kicks the kickstand out from his bike, leaving it running. He makes his way up to the gate with haste, his hands shaking as he pushes the large gate open. He latches it closed behind him, and starts walking the bike through quickly. The driveway is long and rough, the dust being blown around as his tires travel up the dirt to the front of the house. His chest feels like it could cave in as he approaches the large white house. That ominous feeling in his gut twisting more and more the closer he got. The house is framed by towering willow trees, and Daryl’s certain this must be someone’s actual home, not just a farm. The hedges look freshly trimmed, the grass recently cut, but it still holds onto that old, quaint charm. Warm lights glow through the downstairs windows, and the porch light is on, giving the place an unsettling sense of normalcy. Daryl practically flies off his bike once he nears the porch steps, barely saving his bike from falling over with the speed of his movements. He skips steps on his way up to the house, heart hammering against his chest. He could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck, his whole body on high alert. 

Please be okay, please.

As he’s reaching for the door, a woman’s voice speaks from the side of the porch, “you close the gate on your way in?” 

He looks over, and it’s the woman that was on the horse. Daryl’s nerves are so frayed he doesn’t feel like he could come up with any words in response, so he grunts out to her, hoping she’ll take it as affirmation. He ignores her next words as he swings the door open in a hurry, stepping into the house. It was so…clean in here. He’s immediately aware of everyone in the room off to his left. Rick and Lori stand suddenly when they catch his eye. An older man comes into view as Daryl begins to make his way over, but the man stops him in the archway.

“Who’re you?” he asks. He has a kind voice, and the question isn’t aggressive. 

“Daddy, I’m sorry, he just barged in,” the woman's voice comes up behind Daryl. His feeling of anxiety is climbing to a panic as he waits longer and longer, feeling trapped between the two strangers. He’s doing the best he can to peer over the man’s shoulder to see inside the room. 

“He’s with us, Hershel,” Rick’s hand gently lands on the man’s shoulder, his fingers tightening around it as he pulls him back. He looks so pale, like he’s lost blood or maybe is just distraught over his son. Rick looks to Daryl, searching his eyes– scanning over what must be a panicked, wide eyed look on him–with an expression that leaves his stomach suddenly hollow.

“She dead?” Daryl whispers out. His voice is barely audible, too many emotions bobbing in his throat. The man in front of him has turned away, and Rick puts his hand up to Daryl’s chest to slow him as he steps into the room fully. Daryl’s breath hitches as he takes in the room.

Carl is lying motionless on a bed to the left, his arms by his sides outside the blanket. He has the sheets covering most of his body, so Daryl can’t necessarily see what happened to him. He looked so pale, so… sick. But his chest rises with each breath he takes. He only glances at the kid, and looks to the small bed in the other corner.

Daryl’s breath nearly completely leaves him then, seeing her lying there so serenely. God, she looks so pale. So lifeless. His hands flex at his sides, unsure whether to move closer or stay put. She looks too still, too fragile. And the sight of her like that sends a wave of guilt crashing over him—he should’ve been there. His eyes dart over her, to her gently rising chest, trying to make sure she was breathing. His fingers twitch, fidgeting with the strap of his crossbow. If he could’ve been there–if he’d been a little faster–this wouldn’t have happened. Suddenly, he gains control of himself and rushes to her side, the old man stepping back as he sits by her side. The floorboards creak as he steps closer to her, crouching down. He holds Y/N’s hand in both of his, grateful for the heat he feels in her palm. It’s soft, warm–alive. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels moisture in his eyes. He can’t help the trembling on his lips, his chin quivering. Everyone is silent as they watch him duck his head, pressing his forehead into her hand. Something starts bubbling up in him after a long moment. The guilt he feels turning into the only thing he knew how to name–anger. But there was something else, too—something stronger. He would never let this happen again. No matter what it took, he promises himself then and there to make sure she’d be safe from now on. No more staying away, no more hiding how he truly felt with her. He finally is able to breathe, knowing she’s at least alive. But who let this happen? Who did this? The anger threatening to boil over was starting to unleash from him. 

“What happened?” Daryl demands, lifting his head up suddenly with breakneck speed. He’s turning on the spot to look at the old man, then Rick, “where the hell is Shane, wasn’t he supposed to be with you? With her? What happened?” 

“We—we were out in the woods,” Rick starts, his voice trembling. He sits next to Carl, hunched over, Lori’s hand gripping his shoulder, the other resting on Carl’s still hand. “There was a deer… a buck. They went to approach it—it was so still, Daryl. It just stood there, didn’t even flinch. And then…” He swallows hard, looking down at his son. “Then we heard the gunshot. Suddenly, both of them were on the ground.”

“Who the fuck–?!” Daryl began, but Rick held his hand up.

“One of my family members, Otis, was tracking the buck to bring it back here,” the man–Hershel, was it?-- explains, “it was an accident,”

“But he missed,” Rick continues, his voice cracking with frustration as he glances at Carl. “Missed the damn thing. The bullet went straight through Carl—between the ribs, under the lungs. No major organs, thank God, but it… it lodged itself in Y/N’s stomach.”

“Luckily, it slowed down when it passed through Carl,” Hershel adds, Lori wincing at the word luckily. “But it shattered into fragments. I managed to get one out, but Otis and your friend Shane went to get medical supplies for the rest.”

“Why can’t you jus’ get em’ all out now?” Daryl asks, his eyes flickering up to the older man.

“They’ve nicked an artery. See here,” Hershel steps closer, pulling down the sheet to reveal the bandage on Y/N’s abdomen. The sight of her stomach—swollen, bruised blue and black—makes Daryl suck in a breath, his heart falling from his chest, “She’s bleeding internally. I need to go in without her moving, but when I tried earlier, she wouldn’t stay still–from the pain of it. I’ll need to put her under.” 

“And when I do that, she won’t be able to breathe on her own,” Hershel adds softly. “That’s why I sent Otis and your friend to get the supplies for surgery.”

“He ain’t my friend,” Daryl mutters under his breath. “You a doctor or somethin’ before all this?”

“Something like that,” Hershel replies quietly, before turning and walking out of the room.

[nineteenninety-six]

A Tragic Birthday - Pt 2

REQUEST: Can you do a part 2 to A Tragic Birthday with like the funeral and people talking about her and there best memories of her. But with the Shelbys and people like Johnny dogs and Alfie Solomon’s the Jesus’ people like that

Thanks again for 500 followers! You guys are the absolute best <3

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder​ @stassiebabyy​ @futuristicslimemongerbanana​ @dayna041101​ @sweetgoodangel​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

WORD COUNT: 1613

[PART ONE]

Tommy felt his head began to pound as his siblings and aunt argued over how they were going to do (Y/N)’s final send off. It had been a few days since Tommy’s whole world came crashing around him and now he had to deal with her funeral and the rest of his family. He hadn’t had the chance to properly come to terms of what happened and mourn but he was slightly grateful because he knew that the mourning process would be rough and destructive and he really didn’t want to do it anytime soon.

Arthur and John wanted to do it the traditional gypsy way but Polly and Ada wanted to do it the traditional English way. They were going back and forth loudly and Tommy wanted to scream at them, he was mentally and physically exhausted and all he wanted to do was put his youngest sibling to rest without any drama.

Tommy already had problems sleeping ever since he came back from the war but ever since (Y/N)’s death he hadn’t been sleeping at all. Usually if he drank enough he would pass out but that wasn’t even working at the moment, all it led to was him being slightly drunk at work the next day. So instead of sleeping all he did at night was lay in bed and look out of the window while memories of (Y/N) tortured him.

“Enough!” Tommy cut off the argument, “We’ll give her a normal funeral and burial then we’ll burn the vardo after. Okay?”

Tommy looked at his family waiting for their agreement and when they did, he stormed out of the room and headed towards the Garrison, desperately needing a drink. He guessed that one of his family members was going to confront him at one point and when Polly joined him in the snug with a bottle of whiskey and a glass ten minutes later, he wasn’t surprised.

“You decided on a normal funeral service. I’m surprised.” Polly spoke first.

“This way I can visit her whenever I want.” Tommy took a large gulp of his drink. 

Polly’s heart clenched at Tommy’s reasoning, she knew that he was going to have the hardest time with (Y/N)’s death but now she doubted if he would ever recover.

“I think she’ll like somewhere that gets a lot of sunshine and is up high somewhere.” Polly said.

An location immediately came to Tommy at those words, he knew exactly where to bury her, “There’s a place just outside of Small Heath, large field on a hill overlooking the town. We’ll do it there.”

It was a place that (Y/N) constantly visited and found solace in, Tommy had brought her there originally and it became their place but as Tommy got busier with the company she went there by herself a majority of the time.

“Of course.” Polly finished the rest of her drink, “I’ll let you be.”

Tommy nodded his thanks and as soon as the door swung shut behind his aunt he poured himself another drink.

♣️♥️♣️♥️♣️♥️

Tommy stood in silence as Jeremiah read out the eulogy, he couldn’t hear the sobs coming from Aunt and sister as well as the sniffles coming from his brothers, he was trying his hardest but he was struggling to hold in his tears.

The funeral has been a small event, just the Shelby family, Johnny Dogs, Uncle Charlie, Curly and the Jesus’. 

They had no reason for a big one, knowing that (Y/N) would have wanted the people closest to her to attend. As the coffin was lowered into the burial plot and people began throwing the flowers they had been holding into the plot, Tommy finally broke. His shoulders shook with the force of the sobs he was trying so hard to keep in, he made no effort to wipe the tears that were running down his face. 

A hand on his arm pulled Tommy back into focus and when he looked to see who it was he found his aunt.

“We’ll meet you at the vardo.” She informed him, knowing that he’d want a few moments alone.

Once they left Tommy stalked forward to the grave and fell onto his knees,  not caring about the mud and finally let his cries free. He sobbed and screamed until his throat was raw, cursing the god that allowed this to happen. He took a few minutes to calm himself before he stood up and brushed the dirt off his trousers, when he turned around he was met with the hulking figure of Alfie Solomons. He had extended an invitation to the man but hadn’t expected his attendance.

“Alfie.” He greeted once he walked over to him.

“Tommy.” Alfie nodded, “‘m sorry for your loss.”

“Me too.” Tommy grunted.

“Blaming yourself doesn’t help anything.” Alfie informed in

Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “It’s hard not to Alfie.” 

“Do you think your sister would have blamed you?” 

“No. (Y/N) never held grudges.”

“And from what I have gathered, you were her favourite sibling.”

“Something like that” Tommy ‘s lips twitched

“Then she wouldn’t have blamed you.” Alfie theorised.

Tommy nodded, “You gonna join us on the other field?”

“Nah, you’re alright I’ll leave you lot to it.” Alfie declined the invitation.

“Thank you Alfie.”

Alfie nodded and patted Tommy on the shoulder, “Good lad.”

Tommy and Alfie parted ways and Tommy drove towards the field where Johnny Dogs had set up his own camp along with the vargo that held (Y/N)’s possessions. 

When he arrived everyone was placing the flowers on the pieces of wood that surrounded the caravan and when they noticed him they stepped back from the vargo. Tommy made his way over to the crowd and stood in front them, building his nerve and clearing his throat,

“Our (Y/N) left this world too early but during the time she spent on here she made a mark and impact on pretty much anyone she met. She made me a better brother and person and when I was away fighting in the war, I kept thinking about the three year old that I left behind, the one that made me want to change the world.” Tommy paused, “She was the final piece that completed the family and that won’t ever change.”

Tommy headed over to Arthur and passed him the matches and motioned him to do it before walking over to the crowd and standing next to Ada, who immediately wrapped her arm around his.

“You doing okay?” She asked.

“Not really.”

Ada nodded and turned back to where varo, the wooden logs surrounding it were lit and the fire was slowly spreading. Tommy squeezed her hand comfortingly as she began to tear up.

The family watched as the caravan was lit alight for a few minutes before Johnny Dogs came around passing drinks to everyone,

“This is a celebration of life! We reminisce about the happy memories and events we had with the littlest Shelby, no need for the gloom!” He shouted as he walked around.

“Right, remember how she managed to convince me, Arthur and Tommy to buy her a book even though we had a strict rule about she had to finish one before she could get another.” John spoke up first. His story making everyone laugh

“She had the three of you wrapped around her little finger.” Polly laughed.

“Never could trick Ada though could she” Arthur grumbled

“That’s because she learnt those tricks from me. I’m immune to them.” Ada spoke up.

“All she needed to do was pout in your direction and you’d be offering to buy out the whole story. I know she managed to get whichever of you was picking her up from school a bag of sweets for her on the way home” Polly recalled with a smile, “Even though I strictly forbade you to do so.”

“Tommy was the worst! You’d always find them sitting in front of the fire sharing sweets at the end of the day.” Ada chimed in.

“All that sugar making her hyper before bed.” Polly rolled her eyes but smiled. “I made sure you were the one to put her to bed when you started to do that.”

“Tommy’s word was gospel, he told her to go to sleep and she’d go to sleep. “ John said

Everyone laughed at that, knowing how true it was. (Y/N) and Tommy were two peas in a pod.

“I remember when she was a baby she absolutely refused to be held by anyone other than Tom and Pol, screeched her little head off giving everyone on the street a headache until she back in one of their arms.” Arthur recalled.

“The amount of complaints we got.” Tommy laughed.

“What was her first word?” Michael asked.

“Tom!” The Shelby’s all exclaimed, laughing afterwards.

“Fuckin’ smug he was when it happened” John snickered.

“Don’t be jealous John.” Tommy chirped.

“Remember when Tommy found out that (Y/N) had been getting Michael to do her maths homework?” Finn spoke up, loving the stories of the sibling that was closest in age to him.

“I thought he was going to kill me!” Michael said, “I didn’t know it was her homework, she tricked me.”

“She was a good egg, too nice and kind for the horrible world.” Arthur mourned, “But she will be missed.”

Tommy raised his glass in the air, “To (Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)!” Everyone cheered.

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, drinks, food and good memories going around celebrating the life of a person very important to them.

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 13: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: descriptions of raw meat, mentions of violence, toxic thought patterns.

“You know hon, you’re going to have to talk to Toby eventually.”

Jim jolted, smacking the top of his head against the underside of the cabinet, it didn’t hurt in the slightest, but the loud crunch as he made contact did not bode well for the cabinet.

Barbara winced and set her coffee mug down on the table “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,”

Jim pulled back and stood up straight, grimacing when he caught sight of the broken boards and deep gouges his horns had left in the wood. They were going to have to hire someone to come in and fix that “It’s ok,”

“I’m just...concerned, if you two are having problems things aren’t going to get better unless you both address them,”

“Yeah, I know,”

He regretted the flippant words as soon as he said them, getting a glimpse of the look of hurt and worry on his mom’s face.

 “Can you tell me why you guys are fighting?” she said softly

Jim looked away, turning his eyes back down to his...food on the counter “It’s complicated,” 

It didn’t look like that answer satisfied Barbara at all, but rather than push further she just frowned and went back to her breakfast.

Jim felt bad for being so evasive, but that was vastly overshadowed by just how relieved he was that she was willing to drop it. He finished grabbing the empty jars and frozen plastic wrapped rabbit and headed over to the table to join her. Eating this close to sunrise usually gave him wicked stomach cramps, but he’d put it off for too long already, and he was too hungry to wait another hour and a half to eat a normal breakfast.

So he didn’t waste any time downing all the jars and getting started on the rabbit.

“Are just you and Toby having problems, or does this involve the girls to?”

Jim froze mid bite, a fresh wave of guilt and anxiety crashing into him. The hand holding the half eaten rabbit dropped down to the table. He hung his head, the weight of his horns tugging it down even further. Even without looking he could practically feel the hurt on his mom’s face, which made him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m prying, but I’m worried about you,”

He heard her setting down her fork and clasping her hands together “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything that goes on with you and your friends, but…” 

Barbara sighed “I was young once to. I know how high emotions can run, and how the littlest things seem to matter so much-- but they aren’t worth throwing your friendships away,”

Jim risked raising his head to look at her better. Briefly meeting her eyes and getting a peek of her melancholy smile.

As soon as she caught sight of him, Barbara sat up a little straighter and continued, emboldened by the eye contact “If you did something wrong, and I’m not saying you did, avoiding them won’t make it go away. Things can’t get better if you don’t apologize and start rebuilding trust. And if one of them did something to upset you…”

She paused, pulling in a deep breath “Then you have every right to feel hurt and angry, but you need to tell them that. Your friends can’t read your mind, you need to communicate how you’re feeling with them,”

Expectant silence filled the air, Barbara’s gaze stayed on him, patiently waiting for his response.

Jim forced himself to maintain eye contact, very deliberately did not ball his hands into fists, and only opened his mouth to speak once he was sure he could do it in a neutral tone of voice “You’re right...I’ll try to talk to them at lunch today, see if we can clear the air”

Whether she actually believed him or saw the cracks in his facade and decided not to push him further, Barbara’s only response was to smile, give a soft ‘I think that’s a great idea’, and go back to eating.

Which made him feel ten times worse about the fact that he intended to do no such thing.

He looked back down at the rabbit in his hand, stomach in knots. Even though it was the absolute last thing he felt like doing, Jim lifted the rabbit back up and forced himself to take another bite.

When you mess up you need to apologize, when your friends mess up you need to let them know that they hurt you.

But what do you do when it’s both of those things? Or maybe even neither?

He knew his mom was only trying to help, but this was way out of her league.

Jim wasn’t trying to keep secrets or shut her out. But Toby and the girls were straight up accusing her of abuse. How could telling her do anything but hurt her? 

They had threatened to send her to prison for crying out loud.

And maybe he was wrong or maybe they were, but bottom line, Jim couldn’t tell Toby and the girls the truth.

If this was how they reacted to just some scratches on a door...he couldn’t risk it.

He swallowed and glanced at what was left of the rabbit through the plastic, butchered and cleaned but still very clearly a rabbit, the ends he’d been chewing on bright red and bloody.

There was a monster here all right, but it wasn’t his mom.

Jim forced down the last of the macabre excuse of what passed for his breakfast and hurried back into the kitchen to start on their lunches. When it was time for Barbara to leave she kissed him on the cheek and thanked him before heading out the door.

And didn’t say anything about the fact he’d just made two instead of three, even though he knew she’d noticed.

He did his best to avoid thinking about it; but before he knew it the sun was up, he was normal again, and it was time to leave for school.

Jim sluggishly changed out of his now baggy t-shirt and jeans into his regular clothes, threw his messenger bag over his shoulder, and forced himself out the door, making a bee line for his bike. It didn’t look like Toby was waiting around to ambush him. But Jim didn’t want to give any openings just in case he was hiding in the bushes, which he’d tried a few days ago.

Fortunately that didn’t happen, and Jim was able to start pedaling to school in peace.

As glad as he was about being about to get to school without having to dodge a confrontation, Jim had definitely been taking Toby’s presence on their morning ride for granted. Less than two weeks and he already couldn’t stand the silence.

But as much as it sucked that’s just the way things had to be now.

All too soon he pulled up to the school. Jim headed around the building towards the bike rack, not one of the ones he and Toby liked to use, but the one near the gym that Steve and his cronies frequented. Hopefully they’d already gone in and Jim could avoid running into them directly.

His heart sank when he pulled up and saw Steve and Logan chatting by the end of the rack. So much for avoiding confrontation. Trying to be as discreet as possible, Jim quietly dismounted and started locking in his bike on the opposite side of the rack from them, praying to go unnoticed.

Unfortunately he wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, parking your dweeby bike next to ours?” Steve stomped over, a snickering Logan right on his heels.

Jim slammed his lock shut, what little remained of his patience gone “I thought that when people saw my lame bike next to your cool one it would make yours look better by comparison,” he said in a complete deadpan.

Steve’s face blanked as he faltered, unable to come up with a response. Jim tried to take advantage of the lull to get away, but he wasn’t quick enough. Steve stepped in front of him and snarled, looming in his personal space to block his exit. 

“You’d better tell me what your game is!”

Jim met Steve’s gaze without flinching, normally he wouldn’t try to butt heads with a guy who was called ‘Psycho Steve’ for darn good reason, but after everything he’d been through in the past week and a half Jim couldn’t be bothered to tip toe around him right now “Figure it out yourself Steve, because believe it or not I have bigger problems than your microscopic IQ,”

In hindsight that had probably been the worst thing he could have said. Steve’s face darkened, arm shooting out and grabbing Jim’s collar. 

Logan, still hovering behind him, let out a short laugh “Wrong answer Lake,” he said with a smirk.

Steve didn’t say anything, slowly raising his other hand in a fist. Jim winced preemptively and tried to brace himself for the coming blow.

But just before Steve could start rearranging his teeth, Coach Lawrence poked his head out of the gym door, causing all three of them to jump in surprise “Class starts in five minutes, everyone cut the chit chat and get in here!”

He snapped his head in their direction “Kish, Palchuk, that means you!”

Steve growled, but dropped his fist. The second Coach ducked back inside he shoved Jim into the bike rack before stomping towards the gym.

“This isn’t over Crybaby,”

He stalked off, Logan following shortly after. 

Jim glowered at Steve’s retreating back before pulling himself up and heading to his own class.

Getting teeth pulled was more fun than spending any time within a ten foot radius of Steve, but it was still better than the burning, queasy feeling he got in his gut whenever Toby, Claire, Mary, or Darci looked at him.

He breathed deeply and tried to force the sudden spike of stress down to a manageable level, Jim knew they meant well, he really did, and he knew all this stuff with curfews and scratched doors was scaring them, but he couldn’t tell them. 

Last week had been the closest he’d ever come to spilling the beans, when Toby had jumped him in the bathroom, begging Jim to tell him the truth, promising he wouldn’t go to the cops, Jim had almost done it. He had been so close to just unloading and telling Toby everything. But at the last second he’d bolted. Later once he’d had time to sit down and really think about what had just happened, he’d been really glad that he didn’t.

No matter how much Toby and the girls begged and demanded and insisted Jim could trust them with the truth, the fact was he just couldn’t, no matter how much he did or didn’t want to.

He fumbled with dial in an effort to open his locker.

Jim was a monster, and worse a liar. If the girls ever figured out what he really was...well they wouldn’t run screaming in terror that’s for sure. Maybe Darci would, but chances are she’d be helping Claire decapitate him while Mary filmed the whole thing. And Toby…

His throat tightened unexpectedly, struggling to grab his textbooks as his hands started to shake. That was the worst part, deep down he just didn’t know how Toby would react. Would he be crushed by the knowledge that his ‘best friend’ had never been what he’d seemed? Horrified that he’d never spotted the monster living across the street from him? Furious that Jim had lied to him for over a decade?

Knowing Jim’s luck it would be some unholy combination of all three.

Shutting his locker with much more force than needed, he turned down the hall towards Señor Uhl’s room.

So telling the truth was off the table, but the four of them had made it clear that they weren’t going to let this go any time soon. And they still had the pictures, and the recording Mary made.

Jim had been on edge for days after they’d first confronted him. Terrified that they’d gone ahead to the police with their evidence, and at any moment cops bust open the door and drag his mom away in handcuffs.

But a few days passed without incident, aside from hundreds of texts from all four of them, not an exaggeration, literally hundreds, Jim had slowly allowed himself to relax.

That and the fact that they were still badgering him told Jim that they needed more than just the photos and the audio to go to the police with, they needed him to. And if he didn’t go along with them there was nothing they could do to his mom.

Of course that didn’t explain why his phone had been disturbingly silent for the past two days.

He shook off the worries, Jim had more than enough of those right now, the last thing he needed was to go inventing more. If his friends had realized they couldn’t get him to say anything well then good for them. The important thing was for Jim to stay silent and not respond to their prying, in person or over the phone. As a long term solution it sucked, but he wasn’t about to get better alternatives any time soon.

His stomach was constantly in knots and it felt like he was walking on eggshells 24/7, but he couldn’t take the risk of dropping his guard even a little.

Jim rounded the corner only to freeze midstep. Two people were standing on the other end of the hall quietly chatting with each other. But not just any two people; Toby and Mary. And at the sound of his footsteps their gazes swiveled towards him, piercing him on the spot.

His heart rate tripled.

Ok, no big deal, looks like he was taking the long way to spanish today. 

Heart still going a mile a minute, Jim pivoted on his heel, stopping dead when he saw Claire and Darci in the hall behind him, blocking any escape.

Two might be a coincidence, but four? No way. This was an ambush, how long had they been planning this?

Now that he was pinned from either side, they started walking towards him.

Yep, definitely an ambush.

Jim tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. Stay calm, they might have cornered him but they couldn’t make him talk. And if he didn’t talk they couldn’t get anything that they could use to press charges against his mom. The five of them couldn’t stay here in the hall forever, sooner or later a teacher would come by to shuffle them all off to their classes. All Jim needed to do was stay quiet and wait them out.

The four stopped their approach at about three feet away. Jim braced himself, getting ready for the onslaught of begging and accusations.

Toby stepped up to him, breaking the silence “Jim, you don’t have to say anything, I-- we just need to tell you…” he dropped his gaze “We’re sorry, I’m sorry,”

Jim’s jaw dropped.

He what?

There were no words any one of them could have said that would have floored him more. He wondered if he’d actually heard Toby correctly. Right now Jim was too stunned to even react.

“All of us are,” Claire chimed in “We shouldn’t have pushed so hard, especially after you told us we were wrong,”

For over a week Jim had been hoping against hope for them to just drop this and back off, but now that that was, apparently, happening it almost didn’t seem real. If it weren’t for the fact that the school wasn’t made of gingerbread and he still had his pants on Jim would’ve thought that he was dreaming “I-- you-- you what?”

Darci looked nervously from side to side “Can we take this into the computer lab?” she gestured to the door off to the side “Somewhere a little more private than the hallway?”

“Uh...ok,”

They all stepped into the unoccupied room, Darci flicking on the lights and Toby pulling the door shut behind them.

Meanwhile the shock had subsided and suspicion was starting to creep in.

Did they really want to let this go, or were they just trying to get him to drop his guard?

 Jim leaned against one of the desks in a way that he hoped came off as casual “So…what exactly is it you guys are saying?”

Toby grimaced “We shouldn’t have kept forcing the issue of the whole basement thing and your curfew the way we did, if you say everything with you and Dr. Lake is cool….we believe you,”

Jim slowly turned to look each of them in the eye, trying to spot any traces of nervousness or dishonesty “Are you guys for real on this?”

“Yeah,” Darci stepped forward “This is your family, as soon as you said everything was fine we should have just butted out,”

Claire came up beside her “That goes for all of us, we’re really sorry we pushed it too far and made you uncomfortable,”

Jim didn’t quite know what to think, on one hand this was exactly what he’d dreamed of happening for over a week, but on the other...there was one person here who hadn’t said anything yet, who was known for having a stubborn streak powerful enough to crush diamonds.

He turned towards Mary, not even trying to hide the distrust on his face “Then what about the recording you made?”

In the second biggest twist of the day, Jim was taken aback to see that Mary actually looked genuinely...remorseful “I lied, I didn’t record anything,” she came up to him and plopped her phone into his hand “Check for yourself, and you can go ahead and delete the pictures of the….racoon scratches,”

Her voice dropped “And I’m sorry to…” 

Jim heard her apology, but for the most part he was preoccupied with the device in his hand. To be honest he’d been starting to think this all sounded too good to be true; but if Mary was actually letting him go through her phone--

He still couldn’t believe he was holding it, it was like being handed the holy grail, only somehow more sacred.

Only about a minute or so of browsing through her phone and Jim knew Mary was telling the truth, the photos of the scratched door were there, she hadn’t sent them to anyone. And there was no audio recording in her main files or her autobackup. 

A tiny part of Jim was ticked that she’d tried to trick him using an imaginary recording, but that was eclipsed by the enormous relief he felt that the damning words he’d said had never been captured in the first place. 

It was like a massive weight being lifted off his shoulders as Jim permanently deleted the photos of the basement door. After handing the phone back he looked around at everyone, torn between his remaining doubts and giddiness at the idea that this may be over after all.

“So you guys are really going to stop bugging me about my curfew and rules and everything?”

They all nodded.

“Yep,”

“Absolutely,”

“One hundred percent,”

Toby came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide “At lunch today what do you say we meet up at the food truck, figure out what we’re going to do over spring break, and forget all this ever happened?”

A tiny smile of his own curled on Jim’s face “Sounds great,”

They all filled out of the computer lab, Jim was last, flicking off the light switch as they left, actually relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Against all odds Toby and the girls had actually decided to let it go.

Jim felt so light he was practically walking on air. It was over. This horrible, screwed up mess was finally over. His secret was safe, his mom was safe. He wouldn’t have to spend every day swinging back and forth between anxiety and crippling loneliness. Jim could actually talk to his friends again, go back to actually having a life.

For the first time in a long time things were looking up.

[en-washington-heights]

Ship: Vanessa/Usnavi

Usnavi proposing to Vanessa!

Usnavi and Vanessa were an odd couple to say the least.

Most of her downtown friends said "girl, his personality don't match up with yours, but your happy so it's ok I guess."

She brushed off their concerns and stayed with her boyfriend because they could be different in the biggest ways possible, and he is still the one for her.

He knew all of her friends, and he definitely knew about their thoughts on the relationship.

Because they literally had no boundaries in telling him, at all.

That didn't stop him though.

He was going to ask for Vanessa's hand in marriage and everyone else's opinions can piss off.

But he was still going to talk to her friends about how to go about it.

"So I get that you guys hate me-"

"We ain't hate you, it just the relationship doesn't make sense in any way shape or form."

"Same difference. I want to propose to Vanessa and I need help coming up with an idea on going about it."

"You gotta ring?"

"Yeah one sec," he said pulling it out of his pocket.

"Oh shit how did you afford that?" Her friend Michele said looking at the black jem that sat in the middle surrounded by little opal ones.

"Took a long ass time to scrape up the money but I did it. Still I need help."

"We get that you want our help, but you don't need it. If you want to marry a girl like her, you have to be raw and original. If you get help, she gonna notice. She can see right through people. Do it on your own and we can tell you if it sucks, okay?"

"Okay, fine."

"Good, now scram you gotta plan to make."

So off he was.

He sat on his fire escape watching the sunset eating dinner on the phone with Vanessa like he did every night.

He laid in bed that night with the ring on his nightstand glimmering in the moonlight.

"How am I supposed to do this." He whispered to his ceiling.

Then, his plan came to mind.

She loved the littlest things he did.

So, keep it little.

Don't go to a restaurant and propose in front of a crowd.

Take her to the beach, plan a nice evening.

Drinking wine and playing in the water together.

Then, ask her.

Don't make a big ass speech, just go with your gut.

Everything would work out.

***

Vanessa held Usnavi's hand walking down the beach kicking the water as she walked.

They stoped and stood right at the edge of the sand holding hands watching the sunset.

"Hey babe you know I love you right."

"I know. I love you too." She said looking at him.

"I think I found the best way to tell you." He said get on one knee.

"Oh my god." She whispered putting her hand over her mouth tearing up.

"Vanessa, we've been together for so long. We've had our ups and downs. I can't imagine a life without you beside me. So, can I have the honor of making you Mrs. de la Vega? Vanessa, will you marry me?"

"Oh my god, Usnavi!"

"It's ok to say no if you don't want to!"

"Of course I'll marry you!" She said as he got up to kiss her.

He slid the ring on her finger before picking her up a spinning her around.

She kissed ever part of his face happy tears coming from her eyes.

"I love you Usnavi." She said letting out a little cry pressing her forehead to his.

"I love you too cariña."

[muffindaddystyles]

WHERE YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HARRY BUT DON'T WANNA RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP.

Five days before Christmas and Harry protested that you should go with them to his childhood and Anne's house for the festive since you've no-more assignments to do you agreed but 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 you felt like someone made you sit on a spikey bench throughout the whole drive as you had to watch him and his girlfriend sharing intimate moments infront of you.

You were the first one to get wrapped into Anne's embrace as you all reached and when she showered Harry in kisses causing him to whine a "mummy!" you and his girlfriend giggled shaking their heads.

Night was on with full charisma his cousin's kids playing everywhere you chatted, laughed and agreed on helping them to make digital cards as you're doing a graphic designing degree.

Then again you were left alone in the corner of couch while everyone's interest diverted towards Gemma's new profound game and you found yourself watching them in their own bubble making eggnogs for everyone in the kitchen.

You wanted to be in awe, be overly joyous for them that one of your bestest friend's finally being happy but you couldn't. Fuck it's so hard like someone's twisting the knife inside you and you're so lost don't know what to do.

You've always been scared to tell your feelings not to Harry but to anyone and when you were about to tell him proudly that "Harry Styles I'm so fuckin' in love with you!" the same day he you introduced to his date, from then you're just suffering internally.

He handed you the glass of eggnog kissing your head passing by you and drinking it in one gulp you stood up and with her in his lap he frowned asking.

"Where y'goin? Stay a bit more."

"Um..tired wanna rest." With that you went to your given room gazing up at the ceiling remembering the times you used to stay up all night with him in his childhood room, getting peaks of his upcoming songs, cuddling and many times just getting drunk at the roof outside.

You didn't realized you were crying until the pillow was soaking under you. You can never snatch his source of happiness so it's just better to back off.

The next morning it was late when you woke up and it was silent upon your asking one of the maid told you that they all went for Christmas shopping.

"Mop! Mop!" Baby Linda his niece bounced on the sofa calling you mop as Harry used to call you 'moppet' and the brilliant child she's catched it in a second.

"Heyyyyyy lin." You smiled taking her in arms flopping down on the sofa while the Ariel was binging on telly.

"Har n' you never ever- watch movies with'm." On every Christmas you used to now Harry simply doesn't have time for you.

At the end of movie you were about to tell her that not everyone get's prince charming or have a happy ending in their lives, considering the real story of Ariel but you went against it knowing she's just a baby and you're saying it because you're a hurt adult.

She was already snoring. Chuckling you got comfortable cuddling with her and again taking a nap which turned into a long sleep.

Harry beamed in adoration looking at you warmly wormed up with his niece, Linda's mother took her to bedroom but you were still there so Harry snaked his arm around you making you stand on your feet clumsily head tucking under his chin.

You blubbered foolishly clutching his sides tight making him giggle and when he was about to lay you down you refused to let him go, both of you plopping down on sheets.

Harry frowned when you murmured in a weak voice 'don't go' 'don't go, please' but shushing you atlast he again left you under the sheets and his scent only.

He knows something's wrong but he can't figure it out.

Next day, it was bustling in the house Anne and everyone in the kitchen baking cookies and cakes, now even Anne thinks you're not feeling well.

Harry and his girlfriend were doing a chore when you cleared your throat. The fact she's so nice that you can't even let your heart speak bad about her.

"Can I steal Harry for a moment?" You asked her and she nodded patting him, "He's all yours." At that time you wanted to sob out aloud because 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕.

In the corner you fidgeted with your fingers while Harry's anticipated to go back.

"Umm..one of my friend's really really sick I've to be with her-" Squinting his eyes he cut you off knowing you both have same friends, "which one?"

"You don't know about her. Seriously Harry? I've alot of friends except you." You're offended without any reason even though you're lying.

"Fine whatever you wish." He spoke without any excitement because he really really want you beside him with his family.

"Uh..okay then. Everyone's gifts are in the room please give them on my behalf." He curtly nodded not meeting your eyes.

"Should I take you?" You declined his offer assuring him that you'll take a bus home. Everyone's face dropped at the news of your departure and Anne wasn't very fond of the idea but anyhow she agreed asking you to 'take care of yourself.'

On the Christmas eve everyone was sat around the fire pit while you were alone in your apartment eating pretzels and hot cocoa. When they unwrapped gifts from you they all became sad instead of being happy.

Harry fisted the sweater you personally knitted for him as a gift and angrily shoved it back into brown bag, he don't know why he's feeling certain way.

He wanted you with him, wanted too take in your reaction while he unwrapped his present and to give you one he has chosen and kept for you from months.

In the bedroom he pinned his girlfriend against the wall ready to fuck her hard and raw not because he's feeling thirsty or needy, he's at edge and frustrated.

When she was ontop of him kissing him, grinding her hips down against him. He moaned like a wounded animal and didn't even realized what he said till the second she climbed down from his thigh.

"You just moaned out y/n name." Harry's eyes widened in shock, this can't possibly be happening.

"Harry do you think you're in love with, y/n?" She asked him politely rubbing his knee because she's not into that deep with Harry and will be okay with him not wanting to continue this relationship.

"I-I don't know..maybe?" He puffed out focusing on his rings.

"I think so you're and honestly I wouldn't mind if you'll go after her." She grinned and then it hit him like hundered bricks that him getting antsy without your presence, him missing you even it was just for three days and him getting angry at you for not even giving him the good-bye kiss means that his heart has always been in love with you.

"M'in love with my moppet. Fuck. Fuck. M'in love" He hastened to his closet fishing for his clothes, phone in between his shoulder and ear.

Ringing and ringing but you never picked up. But that didn't made him loose his hope in you, in their love.

Wait- he thought to himself that do you love him?

"Thank you. Thank you!" He hugged her last time before leaving for london.

You were startled when there was loud banging on your door, you know it's Harry from the missed calls bunched in your phone from him so you ignored it again going to sleep.

Harry: Are you inside?

His text popped up and you quickly typed back throwing it carelessly.

You: No. Told ya, at friend's.

He sighed defeatedely leaning his head against your door groaning loudly. But again, he isn't loosing his hope because now he's very sure you're in love with him.

New years eve and your close friend invited you to their party, despite of knowing Harry could be there you gave in. After so much whining to yourself you went not wearing anything flashy just a cute baby floyd sweater and right at the entrance of her building you bumped into Harry.

"There's somethin' you're not tellin'm." His words floated out quickly anxious that you'll not listen to him. He's smiling bashfully finding you adorable as fuck.

You remained quite lowering your head and Harry raised his hand many times to touch you, litreally hug you tight against his chest but he hesitated.

"Miss you, please what did I do wrong?" You shook your head blinking away the tears.

"You didn't do anything wrong...I-I just can't be friends with you anymore." Harry could be seen practically shuddering at your words, anger boiling inside him.

"You're lying!" He balled his fists and you snapped, "No. I don't like you infact I hate you!" You cried painfully as if you're bleeding.

You had to say this else his littlest of cooing and you'd have melted to his feet. You ran away from him the elevator doors shutting while you kept on looking at eachother not knowing how much you're hurting eachother.

There's a skip in your heart when the elevator jerked making you tumble to floor. The light went out and you blindly reached for nothing in particular..

Fuck this isn't happening. You're claustrophobic and right now it's the extreme of your phobia.

"Help!" You screamed crying legs shivering and giving out causing you to collapse painfully onto floor.

You banged the steel doors with your whole will power litreally trying to open them with your hands because you're getting a panic attack this's what mostly people do when the get panicked, they try to do things out of their force just so they could breath.

With shaky fingers and blurry vision you dialed the first number, phone falling in your lap as you're feeling zaps of horror till your bones.

Afraid of dark you kept looking behind you in the mirror heart slowing down at each glance.

Harry was in the middle of staircase the music reaching to him from your guys friend's house and he halted in his tracks when his phone ringed furrowing his brows at your name flashing.

"Har-h-" His heart fell onto floor at your loud incoherent sobs, "what happened are y'okay? Where are ya!?" His voice boomed and he fled downstairs but again upstairs as to lost where you're because you're just crying loudly into speaker.

"Stru-stuck, lift save me...." You digged your nails into your sweater atop of where your heart is because you can't breath anymore.

He muttered a shit under his breath quickly telling the security guard of building to do something, pacing around he gripped his hair "hey moppet listen to me hmmm? They're comin' s'okay, it's okay. Breath fo' me." He rambled into phone running back to the elevator doors.

He knows how much you're scared of closed spaces and how much you despise dark.

Your windpipes are blocking any air passage, your brain fuzzy and vision going. You're feeling so scared that these are your last breaths and someone will come from darkness to drag you with them.

"...can't- breath. breath can't.., please please please." You begged and Harry's feeling helpless. He can't see the person he love ever most being in so pain on the verge of losing themselves.

Pressing his palms and forehead against the cool steel door he spoke broken, "..baby m'strong strong girl jus' focus on the things ye' love- or the moments ye' want to cherish again."

But, you were giving in heart thumping brain shutting so before you know your racing heart's blabbering and blabbering, "you. you...love- love you please. I love you!" A single sob escaped from Harry's lungs and he punched the steel.

"Fuck I love you too so fucking much baby, stay strong fo' me jus-just don't give in." Then he screamed at the guard, "where the fuck are they!!"

But you haven't heard his 'I love yous' not his soft talk because you were long gone into dark blue and purples of your safe world.

Harry clutched his phone neck veins popping as he shouted, "fuck. fuck moppet! don't go. Are ye' listenin' to me?" He's crying standing up and practically shoving the engineer to do his work as soon as possible.

All the oxygen left his body when the elevator dinged again opening to give the sight of you unconscious on it's floor, phone beside your head and your chest not moving.

He didn't spare a second scooping your sweaty body in his arms bridal style taking you to the house where party's still going.

"Move the fuck away!" He shouted pushing grinding bodies away laying you down inside the closest bedroom.

He pressed his ear against your heart which was giving slow beats, sighing he kissed your forehead brushing the strands of hair sticking to your face back then again sponging kisses to your closed eye-lids meanwhile some person in the party was a med student so she suggested to give you a shot that'll calm you down from anderaline and will help you sleep for a while.

He flinched as the needle pricked your delicate skin. The accident showed him how ignorant he was of his feelings for you, he has never loved someone this much.

He didn't care to go outside, just holding your hand kissing it again and again, checking if you were okay and he was so paranoid so he kept on holding your wrist to check your heart race.

When you shifted slightly in you position groaning to sit up he placed his hands on your shoulder, "hey..hey don't it's okay. It's okay baby rest."

"Need water?" He asked you stroking your cheek and you nodded exhaling, "Hold me?" You whispered snuggling by his side.

"Sure baby always." He embraced you for dear life rocking your bodies like a baby in cradle, "I was angry at you when you left from mum's home and then during sex I took your name..fuck at that moment I got to know how much I love you moppet, so so fuckin' much."

"I too." You whispered gazing up at him and there were loud noises of countdown outside.

"Kiss me?" You wet your dry lips, your noses touching and it's hazy all around you. With your temples pressed he squeezed your bottoms kissing the corner of your lips first and when everyone yelled Happy new years! He smashed his lips on yours cupping your face gently.

Fireworks everywhere. In the sky and inside of you as you pulled his hair deepening the kiss and he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You kissed until you both were out of breath and he pecked you moistly saying 'always.'

"They say what y'do on new years eve you keep on doing it for the next whole year." You giggled closing your eyes from tiredness and the shot murmuring, "cheeky enough."

.

A/n

I've written this claustrophobia situation on my experience. This really happened with me. I'm claustrophobic and got stuck in an elevator bad combination I know but there wasn't any Harry to save me😭😆

[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke)

okay, look. I wasn’t gonna post this until it was FINISHED because i am trying to learn to actually finish my wips. but. the world is sorta falling apart and i hope that maybe i can help even one person feel temporarily less anxious about it all. 

i wrote this for @gumnut-logic‘s birthday and am now over a month late, so! good! (so sorry nutty, you’re so incredible at blessing us with your words, i just wanted to do something nice for you since you’re so so good to us)

my love for virgil tracy + my silent lurking in this fandom have brought this about. i never thought i’d be writing thunderbirds fanfiction and yet. here we are (my father would be so disappointed in me).

this is my first time writing these characters, as will become painfully clear. pls be nice to me, i am fragile lol. i am horribly aware that my virg is probably too ‘floppy’ as per your post, nutty, so sorry in advance! this is me whumping your boy emotionally and mentally, but i’m gonna fix him, i swear! there are five parts (i have written the first three). 

virgil is always written as being very good at taking care of his mental health, and it occurred to me that some of the best people at this have had to learn to be that way, and so I guess this is an exploration of that? anyway, have some virgil aggressively loving his family. 

brains isn’t in this and kayo isn’t much either sorryyy. oh my GOd shut up, here you go:

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn't have to do it alone.

word count: 2.8k ish (part 1/5)

warnings: mental health issues

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

i.

He isn’t quite sure where it began. Somewhere between three back-to-back rescues, pulling a child’s body from thick, black mud, and failing to reach the scientist before smoke ravaged her lungs, a weight settles in his chest that none of his usual coping mechanisms can shift. 

To say it’s been a hard week would be an understatement, but then again, they’ve had hard weeks before. Any time a rescue mission turns into a recovery mission, they all feel it - how can they not? - but this time, this time is different. 

Perhaps it was seeing the kid’s mother break down completely at the sight of such a small corpse. Perhaps it was the abuse hurled at him and his brothers by the scientist’s girlfriend for failing to rescue her soulmate in time. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion and pain, perhaps it was feeling ribs break under the force of his CPR efforts, perhaps it was knowing that in spite of it all, it wasn’t enough. 

It’s like he can’t quite draw a full breath. Like his throat has half-closed and tears are creeping at the back of his eyes, but neither is willing to break the damn. It’s the heaviest kind of emptiness he’s ever known. 

And so Virgil forces it away - or if not away, then at least to one side - whilst he takes care of brothers who need to talk about the horrors they have just witnessed and the fresh guilt they now bear. He’ll take care of himself later (probably) and then he’ll finally be able to shift that god-awful weight on his lungs. It’s fine. 

*

Alan is easy enough to handle; Virgil’s pedestal will never be as high as Scott’s or John’s but he’s still Alan’s big brother, and Alan feeds on reassurance and praise. Virgil knows that both Scott and John will be in later to check on their youngest too, but for now, Alan needs him. 

“You did well today, kiddo,” Virgil says, leaning against the doorframe to Alan’s suite. His littlest brother is lying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. 

Alan blinks slowly, twists to meet his eyes. Overly-bright cornflower blues meet steady browns and Virgil catches the tremble of Alan’s lower lip with an aching heart. 

“You did, Allie.” Virgil strides across the room and has Alan scooped into a hug within seconds. “All those people are gonna wake up tomorrow because of you.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, Virg,” whispers Alan. “So many people didn’t make it.” 

“I know.”

(The weight on his chest and struggle to breathe will never let him forget it). 

Alan sighs, rests his head on his brother’s broad chest. “I just - I keep remembering her face. When she realised I couldn’t save her. I close my eyes and she’s just - there.” He closes his eyes and digs the heels of his palms into them.

He’s so young. It’s not the first time that Virgil has had doubts about forcing this responsibility on a teenager, but it is the first time Alan’s watched someone die in his arms and none of Virgil’s carefully crafted words will change that. Especially not now, whilst the pain is raw and jagged and demanding to be felt - no, Virgil and his brothers will be helping him to untangle this over the next few weeks.

“Wanna play something?” he asks instead. 

The response is less enthusiastic than usual, but soon Alan has a fragile smile on his lips as he thrashes Virgil’s Princess Peach with Waluigi (and so what if Virgil deliberately chooses the tracks he knows he’s shit at just to make Alan chuckle when he falls off Rainbow Road again?). 

*

His water-loving brother won’t be so easy (though of course, there’s nothing easy about watching someone so young trying to carry the weight of the world). Still, Gordon is at least predictable in his frustrated misery and rolls his eyes as he sees Virgil coming towards the pool with a towel in hand. 

“I’m not in the mood, Virg,” he calls, before hurling himself underwater and sinking to the bottom of the pool. 

It’s Virgil’s turn to roll his eyes, but he kicks off his shoes, sits on the poolside and dangles bare feet into the water, waiting. When Gordon finally emerges from the water, annoyance flickers across his face at the sight of his waiting brother, and he turns, kicking away from Virgil with a powerful breaststroke. 

Virgil waits until Gordon’s swum four lengths before speaking. “How are you doing?”

Gordon’s perfect rhythm barely falters as he grabs his brother’s leg and yanks, pulling Virgil into the pool and immediately swimming away. Virgil shakes the water from his hair, internally cursing his stubborn-ass younger brother and treads water until Gordon reaches his end of the pool again. 

“How many lengths is that?”

Gordon ignores him, switching fluidly into butterfly stroke and splashing away from him once more. 

Virgil can’t help but sigh; his limbs are aching and his chest is heavy and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed. But his younger brother is hurting - emotionally, sure, judging by the way he’s slicing through the water like it’s done him wrong, but physically too if the minute winces are anything to go by. (And Virgil can’t stand it). 

The next time Gordon comes by, Virgil is ready. He seizes his brother around the middle, and bodily drags him to the edge of the pool. He doesn’t often use his size and strength against his brothers, but this time calls for it. Once out of the water, the fight goes out of Gordon, and he staggers, murmuring “ow, ow, ow, ow.”

“Come here, you idiot.” Virgil pulls Gordon into a shady spot by the loungers, and begins helping Gordon stretch out overworked muscles. Gordon hisses as Virgil presses down on his calf muscle. “Sorry, Gordo.”

“S’okay.” Gordon glares up at the sky. “Just stupid cramp.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil shakes his head. “Yeah, that or the fact you’re reliving your Olympic training after having been up for forty-eight hours straight.”

“You know if you keep doing that, your face will get stuck.”

Virgil pulls a hideous face, then grins in response to Gordon’s laugh. It feels good to smile, it shifts the weight on his lungs the tiniest bit. 

“Flip over and I’ll do your back.”

“Virgil Tracy, you’re a goddamn saint,” Gordon declares, obediently flopping onto his stomach. 

There’s a pause whilst Virgil runs expert hands over the rock-like knots in Gordon’s back and Gordon melts into the mattress. When Virgil next speaks, his voice is gentle even as his hands dig in: “You know that punishing yourself isn’t going to bring them back.”

Gordon tenses then sighs. “Damnit, Virg. Can’t a guy get a massage without psychoanalysis?”

But his voice is a great deal lighter than it would have been even half an hour before.

*

His wrists are aching by the time he drags himself out to the cliff edge where Kayo likes to perch. 

His brothers have different uses for this particular stretch of rock: Scott likes to end his morning runs here by stretching in the breeze off the waters. For John, it’s a spectacular place to stargaze, not least because it’s so very quiet and dark up here. Gordon can often be found diving off these rocks, cheered on by Alan, much to the constant stress of their oldest brother, who attributes more than seventy percent of his grey hairs to this cause. 

For Kayo, it’s a watchpost. Her stormy eyes skim the horizon for non-existent threats, calculating, calm, controlled. And after a bad rescue (or three), she sits and waits for hours at a time, gazing into choppy waves and brilliant sunsets with the loneliest eyes Virgil has ever seen. He’s supposed to sit with Kayo in silence until she tells him what she needs from him, be it a hug, his presence, or just distance. 

This time, she makes it clear the moment he pads towards her, fading into the rocks like she was never even there. Distance, then.

*

John is possibly the hardest to handle of all his siblings, purely because he’s the hardest to get a hold of. John knows Virgil’s antics only too well, knows that a meaningful conversation about how he feels is coming, and has therefore made himself scarce. 

 Virgil sighs as John misses (read: rejects) his third call in a row. Two can play at that game, Jonny.

Instead, he dials straight through to EOS. 

She answers him immediately, as usual. “Virgil. I have been anticipating your call.”

“You have?”

“You have all had unsuccessful missions. You always call after missions with a body count.”

Virgil swallows, fresh guilt rising in his throat, and forces it back down. 

“Please can you put me through to John, EOS?”

“Of course, Virgil.”

Silence for a second, and then John’s hologram appears. His red-headed brother is studiously avoiding eye contact, hands darting over controls in an anxious pattern.

“This isn’t a good time, Virgil, I’m busy rerouting some calls to local emergency services, and-”

“John.”

“-and there’s a call from Tehran that really needs me, so if that’s all-”

“John.”

Silence. 

“How long since you last ate?” 

John’s eyes meet Virgil’s and he looks away at once. “Uh… this morning?”

“Negative,” EOS chimes in, “last intake was twenty-six hours ago.”

John’s jaw clenches. “Thanks, EOS.”

“John, you need to eat.”

“Smother Brother.”

“I’m serious.”

EOS pipes up again, “John also needs to rest. He has been operating for twice the recommended period of time.” 

John glowers, but says nothing.

“Don’t make me set Scott on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Virgil raises his eyebrows and John sighs loudly in frustration. “I will. I will. I just - thinking about food makes me feel nauseous. Like…” He swallows, looks away. “Like I’m eating mud.”

The sharp hurt in Virgil’s heart twinges violently and he wishes more than anything he could wrap John up in a bearhug and stop the world from hurting him. “What if I’m here whilst you try?” he asks softly.

Another sigh. “Fine. But only if you eat something too,” John says. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that your stomach was growling even louder than Two’s engines on the way home.”

“Smother Brother,” Virgil’s voice is hopelessly fond, even as he goes to make a sandwich that he can’t face eating (which for him, is a bad sign - he who has forced down Grandma’s inedible chilli through sheer willpower and love). The bread is hard and tasteless, the filling bitter. He chokes down a half slice, focusing instead on the fact that his younger brother is carefully chewing at his toasted bagel, eyelids heavy. Eventually, John’s shoulders slump, and his head lolls back into slumber.

His work here is done. 

Well, almost -

“Hey, EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?” 

“Can you put that playlist I made him on a loop?”

“Of course, Virgil. Venus Bringer of Peace is now playing.”

There. 

*

His oldest brother is hurting. Virgil doesn’t need ESPN or whatever freaky connection Gordon and Alan accuse them of having to know that. 

There was a death toll, and therefore Scott will be hurting. Every life lost becomes a personal fault for the man, and nothing Virgil says or does will change that. They have this argument every two or three weeks, increasingly frequently as the months since their father’s disappearance have ticked into years. And he’s so very tired of rehashing the same words over again and again, he’s so tired of being utterly powerless against his brother’s borderline suicidal recklessness, he’s so tired of his uselessness in convincing Scott to stop treating his life like some replaceable trinket.

(So very, very tired).

And yet, Virgil stands in the doorway to his father’s office, bracing himself for yet another battle with his older brother.

Because taking care of the idealistic, brash, self-flagellating workaholic is what he does best - especially when said idealistic, brash, self-flagellating workaholic least wants it.

Scott is hunched over the desk, poring over debriefs with an almost-empty glass of something amber in his left hand. Virgil makes a mental note to re-encrypt the code to the drinks cabinet - Scott had cracked it far too quickly last time, but he doesn’t stand a chance against John…

“Hey, Scott,” he finally enters the room, but his brother doesn’t even spare him a glance. Virgil takes the seat opposite him - the one he used to sit in as his father waxed lyrical about his dream of an elite rescue organisation (it hurts) - and waits. 

After five or so minutes, Scott looks up blearily, blinking in surprise. “Virg? What are you - when did you-”

“It’s gone midnight, Scott. We agreed you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitches. He’s wound tight from alcohol and stress, and it hurts Virgil to see it.  “I have to get this done.”

“Not at one am, you don’t.”

“Don’t start, Virg, you know debriefs are essential - you know I have to - to -”

“To what?” 

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you have to get done? What’s so important that it can’t wait till you’ve at least slept?”

Scott breaks - quicker than usual (thank you, whiskey) which is a relief, because Virgil’s energy is down to its last droplets; hell, it’ll be a miracle if he even makes it to his room after this. 

“To figure out where we fucked up! To explain to the fire services that we did fuck-all for their rescue efforts! To figure out why I wasn’t fast enough to get to those children! I have to - to know,” he flings himself to his feet and begins pacing. “Fifty-four people died today, that’s fifty-four lives we should have saved, and I have to know why we failed so it never happens again.” He slams both hands down on the table, scattering papers to the floor. His eyes are wild and slightly bloodshot, and Virgil’s heart aches for the pain in those cerulean blues. 

The fight leaves Virgil’s spirit, because for once, he’s having a hard time reconciling his own failings with the number of bodies he’s pulled from mud and rock today. Usually, he is the first to reassure his brothers that they did all they could. But on a day like today, with the weight of whatever-it-is on his chest, it’s just not good enough. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave Scott alone in his pain. 

“What can I do?” Virgil asks quietly, and Scott stares at him. 

A pause. “Just - just be here,” Scott allows at last, sinking back into his chair. 

“Always,” Virgil says, and he means it, even through the fog of this exhausted, low, heavy feeling. 

“You okay?” Scott says, looking him over with a frown, and Virgil curses internally, because of course, Scott notices what none of his other siblings have. 

“As much as any of us are right now,” Virgil answers, as honestly as he can. Scott clearly doesn’t quite believe him, because he keeps shooting Virgil surreptitious glances laden with concern, but he lets it go. Perhaps he too lacks the energy to fight him on this. 

(It’s not enough and Virgil knows it. It’s not enough to stop his brother from working himself into an early grave and it’s not enough to blame poor construction work for the collapse of a tower block when he should have been able to save them).

(He’s not enough). 

*

He’s exhausted. He had thought he was shattered before, but now - 

The heaviness in his chest is a gaping wide hole, and the edges are raw and ragged from trying to hold himself together. His throat closes and clogs, but the tears won’t come, even as misery wells inside of him.

He looks blankly at the piano he sometimes uses to pull himself back from edges like these - edges that plunge down, down, down into an abyss he daren’t explore. Only the tug in his chest isn’t there. The canvas on his easel remains blank, his paintbrush untouched. Hell, even the idea of a nice, hot shower has him cringing at the effort and self-care involved.

What the hell’s the matter with him? 

He can’t quite explain it, and for one usually so attuned to others’ emotions, this awful lowness is startling. Because it’s more than lowness, and it’s more than heaviness - it’s more like a complete absence of feeling, an emptiness that he doesn’t know how to name. 

Perhaps, it will shift in the morning. Perhaps, this is the consequence of pushing yourself to over-exhaustion and beyond, and then expelling what little energy remains to support your loved ones. Sleep will help, Virgil tells himself. Rest makes everything better, you will be better in the morning.

[blossommarvelmuses]

“you want me to rub your back ’til you fall asleep?”

Bucky didn’t mean to cause trouble. -- But his ma just didn’t get it, she didn’t understand his relationship with Steve and she’s accused him time and time again of caring for the Rogers’ more than he cares his about his own family. That’s far from the truth, Bucky loves his family, he just doesn’t want to be a father. They’ve got a goddamn father, he just works all the damn time so when he is home he’s absent. He truly just can’t win, either he’s underfoot when he’s trying to help or he’s picking Sarah and Steve over his own family. Tonight isn’t an unusual night, Bucky gets home late -- knuckles cleaned but bruised, nose a little sore with a busted lip. He and Steve got into another fight with some group of rowdy boys who were bothering a few innocent girls. They stepped in and did what was right. Afterwards they both had shuffled home to Steve’s so they could clean each other up. With school in the morning and Bucky spending most of the weekend at Steve’s, Bucky had decided it would be best if he at least spent one night at home and help with breakfast in the morning.

He’s confronted with questions the moment he walks in through the front door. The two littlest Barnes’ greet Bucky with excitement in the pjs. He’s scolded when he sweeps them into a hug that he’s upset bedtime. Bucky hums at his mother, tells her that he’ll get him settled. She seems to like the idea enough for her to return the kitchen and finish ironing the kids’ school clothing. He scoops the two kids up, causing them both to giggle and Rebecca isn’t far behind to help Bucky wrangle the kids into bed. The two littlest siblings share a room, so its easy for Bucky and Rebecca to put on their own little play -- telling the kids some silly dramatic bed time stories with so much adventure that the story itself wears the kids out. They’re out like a light and Bucky’s pleased with their work. Tired feet drag on the floor as he shuts the door behind him only to be met with Rebecca pushing up on her toes to inspect Bucky’s bruising face. “Just a little tussle, you shoulda seen the other guys.” Before Rebecca can scold Buck -- it seems his mother heard his voice. She grabs his face roughly and inspects it. Then the lecture starts. She’s reminding him how scummy she thinks Steve and his mother are, how they do nothing but get Bucky into trouble and that Bucky’s turning into a menace of a child. “If I ain’t protecting Steve then nobody is.” He tells his mother, voice low. The grip on his jaw tightens a bit more as he’s reminded that his job is to be here for his family. “They are my family.” 

The noise rings loudly in the house, Bucky’s cheek stings with the strength of the hit. The boy stumbles backwards, and he stares wide eyed at his mother. She doesn’t seem all that remorseful for her actions, in fact she points her finger in his face telling him to watch his mouth if he wants to keep living under her roof. Rebecca stands motionless, it’s clear this is the first time their mother has ever raised a hand to her children but its apparent that it wasn’t her first time thinking about doing such a thing. His sister, the wonderful girl goes in to come to his aid but his mother’s arm reaches out to stop Rebecca. She tells her daughter to go to her room, that Bucky earned the punishment for talking back. In a moment, the hallway is empty, his sister scurried off and his mother back to the kitchen. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t care enough to think. He’s leaving for the night, he can’t be dammed to stay here. Bucky ducks into his room, locking the door behind him. He doesn’t care if his mother gets any angrier at him than she is now. Bucky at the Rogers’ home so often, he knows he doesn’t need to pack a bag. He’s left countless objects of clothing at their home, so all Bucky needs to do is climb out the window and he’s off to a place where he knows he’ll be taken care of. 

It’s far too late now in his mind to walk through the front door despite knowing where the key is. The last time he came in this late he almost go knocked out by a frying pan -- so instead he climbs up the fire escape, sliding Steve’s window open. He wonders idly if the boy leaves it unlocked just in case Bucky comes by and if he does he’s thankful for it in this moment. He slips into the room, landing on his feet heavily. The weight hadn’t hit him until he’s standing here in Steve’s room. His legs feel like lead and he doesn’t even feel like he can cross the short length of the room to get to Steve’s bed. Thankfully, the boy in question sits up slow and blinks at him blearily calling out his nickname into the dark. “’s me Stevie.” He tells the other, voice shaking much more than he’d like it to be. Even in his tired state, Steve seems to know that something is wrong. And god he needs that, he needs someone who knows him. The blonde shifts, there’s barely enough room for Steve on the small mattress but yet here he is still offering space to Bucky. 

That’s all that it takes for the floodgates to open. Bucky’s shoulders sag heavily, a hiccuped sob leaves his lips and it causes Steve to nearly stumbled out of bed to get to his side. He knows he can’t throw all of his weight into Steve’s arms like he wishes he could, but the warmth of Steve’s hand guiding him on the small of his back is enough in this moment to get him to stumble towards the other side of the room. Bucky all but collapses onto the bed, his forehead easily finding Steve’s shoulder as one of the smaller man’s hand comes to rest on the back of his neck while the other takes a few tries to flick on a lamp. “-- Told you it needs a new bulb.” He tells Steve, trying to force himself to tease. It falls flat in his ears and no doubt in Steve’s ears too. The other male asks him softly what happened, because it’s not often that Bucky is like this. He much prefers to be the one caring for Steve -- but when the tables are turned Steve’s filling in the caring roll more than perfectly. Steve’s gentle with him in his sensitive state, letting him take his time with explaining. 

“Ma and I got in a fight.” And he knows Steve is waiting for more information. Bucky hardly ever gets this upset when he and his mother fight, in fact he gets more upset when he and Steve have stupid fights usually. But right now the word sits heavy on his shoulders.. because no one gets it. No one gets how much he adores Steve and Sarah, carrying them both so close to his heart. The anger he feels when his own mother spits ignorant words about the two of them, brushing them off because they don’t have much money -- calling Sarah a bad mother because Steve’s so frail and skinny, calling Steve a bad influence for getting him in fights when everything Steve does is good and brave. No one gets how in love with Steve he is, how he’d give this boy the entire world if he asked because he deserves everything and more. “She kept sayin’ awful things about you and mama. -- Told me I treat you better than my own family. I said you were family...” He trails off then. His face still feels raw from where her bare hand hit so hard he’s sure a mark still sits on his cheek. “She hit me.” He says finally and he can feel Steve shift. Soon small hands move to cup Bucky’s face, they are far gentler than his own mother’s. His head is lifted up so that Steve can now inspect Bucky’s face. By the look on the other’s face he can tells that Steve sees the fading mark on his face, his brow furrowing in a way that’s angry for a moment before those big sad eyes are looking at him. “Don’t. -- I know that stupid look on your face. I don’t want to hear you say you aren’t worth is, ‘cause you are to me. Both of you..” The two sit in silence for a bit longer. Steve replaces the harsh touch with his own gentle one until the other seems satisfied that the mark has finally disappeared from Bucky’s face. 

“Can I stay in here with you?” He’s feeling fragile and vulnerable, while in the back of his mind he already knows the answer he still asks, he needs the reassurance that he’s wanted here. There is no hesitation in the other’s face when he nods, already moving to flick off the lamp while they get comfortable. Despite himself, Bucky is still trembling from the whole ordeal. “You want me to rub your back ’til you fall asleep?” Steve’s gentle voice asks. There is no mockery between the two of them, no poking fun that this is silly or childish. No instead there is nothing but understanding and the need for comfort. “Please.” The words are choked through another soft cry and Steve presses firmly up against his back as his hand meets the curve of his spine -- rubbing in easy slow circles. Steve’s voice is soothing as he tells Bucky that he’s safe here now and Bucky trusts him. 

He doesn’t fall asleep for awhile, his emotions ebb and flow but the entire time Steve soothes him. It’s really because of moments like these that Bucky doesn’t regret his words, not even a little bit. 

[carumens]

expand your literature friday nº1

Author: Ana María Matute

Notable works: Pequeño Teatro (1954), Luciérnagas, eng. Fireflies (1955), Los Hijos Muertos, eng. The Dead Sons (1958), Olvidado Rey Gudú, eng. Forgotten King Gudú (1996).

Obviously, whole theses and analysis could be written about this amazing writer and her work. There will be loads of thing about Los Abel that I would love you guys to know, but that I can’t just include in a Tumblr post. Hopefully, this will be interesting enough to you!

*WARNING. The book I’m going to be talking about has never been translated, so all the quotes and excerpts below have been translated by me.

So, without further ado, proceed and enjoy!

Brief Introduction

Ana María Matute (1925 - 2014) was a Spanish writer and member of the Real Academia Española, which, summing it up, is the insttution that regulates the Spanish language in Spain. It’s a great honor to be a member of the RAE, and she was the third woman in the history of this institution to be conceded a seat in it. She is considered one of the most personal and raw voices of the 20th century in Spanish literature, and one of the best posguerra (which is the period following the Spanish Civil War) novelists. She wrote novels, short stories, children tales and essays. She was considered in 1976 for the Nobel Literature Prize and won numerous literature prices, among which was the Premio Cervantes, the most prestigious literature prize in the Spanish language.

Matute was a professor at university, and she traveled to many cities to give lectures, especially to the US. In her speeches, she talks about emotional changes, the constant changes of the human being and how innocence is never cmpletely lost. She said that although her body was old, her heart was still young.

Here is a small article by The New York Times, published some days after her death in 2014, that contains some more info about her biography and career.

Style

Matute deals with many political, social and moral aspects of Spain during the post-war period. Her prose is lyrical and practical, and she incorporates techniques associated with modernism and surrealism. However, Matute is considered a realist writer. Many of her books deal with the period of life ranging from childhood to adolescence to adulthood.

Matute uses, as a primary resource, pessimism, which, in her novels, often manifests in the form of alienation, hypocrisy, demoralization and malice. About her work, it is said that although the arguments of each of her novels are independent, they are all united by the general theme of Civil War and the portrait of a society dominated by materialism and self-interest.

Also, during the 1940s in Spain, a new literary aesthetic, which came to be known with the name of tremendismo, was born. The main aesthetic features of tremendismo revolve around the experiences of authors during the Civil War, and the misery and insecurity that were characteristic of post-war Spain. Tremendismo is heavily based on pessimistic, determinist and fatalist philosophies; it shows the darkest aspects of life, such as failure and death, and relates them to existentialism. Protagonists of novels belonging to tremendismo are usually marginal beings from the lowest layers of society, with primitive minds and without spiritual values or sensitivity. They often commit errors that lead them to tragic consequences, but they can’t be blamed because it is society that leads them to act that certain way. In this way, the worst part of human beings, highlited by an unfair society, is shown.

Los Abel 

“I have arrived and nobody waits for me, because I have not warned anyone and I do not know anyone. It is difficult to define contours. The town, sunk in the bottom of the valley, is a ghost of violet lividness: like an unfortunate overcrowding of half-ruined hovels.”

Los Abel (1948) was Ana María Matute's first published novel and is, to this day, basically unknown. “Why are you going to talk about a novel that is not even considered her most relevant work?” you may ask. Well, simply because I love it, and it was a major inspiration for both my first poemary and my current WIP, Sunflowers at Night. The publication of this work was considered a literary revelation, a fact that would be confirmed in the successive works presented by its author.

Ana María Matute wrote Los Abel, a work that obtained a brilliant classification in the 1945 Premio Nadal, at the young age of 21. Inspired by the biblical story of Adam and Eve, a reflection of the enviroment after civil strife, it’s the dark story of a family living sad and tormented lives, very few of which escape the climate of anguish and exhaustion. Matute manages to create a tense, passionate and even feral atmosphere.

Plot *(WARNING. Spoilers ahead.)

The story is told in the first person by two different characters. The narrator in chapters I-IV is a young man who returns to a town he visited with his mother when he was a child. In these chapters he remembers his first encounter with the Abel family and then describes the town and the people who live there during his visit. The man rents the old house of the aforementioned family and there he finds the diary of Valba Abel, one of the sisters who lived there. So, the second narrator is Valba, or more precisely, chapters V-XXIX represent her personal diary in which she tells the sad story of her family.

This story takes place in a post-war rural landscape, where the family, formed by the father and his seven children: Oswaldo, Augusto, Tito, Valbanera, Juan Nepomuceno, Octavio and Ovidia — who prefer to be called by the nicknames  Aldo, Gus, Tito, Valba, Juan, Tavi and the youngest simply, the Small One — all with very different personalities. Their mother has died and the father tries to maintain the unity of the family, using their land and house for that. However, life in a poor monotonous rural area  is not enough for young people who show different abilities and have their own interests. Only the older brother, Aldo, is interested in cultivating the land and continuing with the traditional life of their parents: the other siblings want to escape from the village and live in the city.

After some gray and depressive winters, the children leave, one after the other, the orchard of their father, and move to the city. There they try to start new and different lifes, but their destiny takes them back to the village, where two of the brothers, Aldo and Tito, different as day and night, have such serious problems with each other that the first kills the second.

The protagonist

Valba is the representation of the rare girl, a very common protagonist in female post-war novels, who has a lonely character, looks unfeminine to other women and who is looking for her own identity. But in addition to the features that are typical to the rare girl trope, Matute adds to Valba a kind of darkness and depth. The town doctor describes her with the following words: "What deep eyes: a whole world enclosed within. To tell you the truth, I have never seen a look like that. Only sometimes do beggars in ditches have that look, or the hungry. And she looked like a child, with her indecisive hands. She had wolf teeth, hurtful as little daggers.”

After the death of her mother, Valba has to leave her studies in the city and return home, where she has difficulty finding her place among her brothers. She often feels redundant, without a way out and guilty that she lets her life go by without really living it, repeating phrases like: "I felt ridiculous, useless, small" and "I'm tired of not living." Even though she doesn’t like her sitaution, she doesn’t really try to make it better, thus acquiring a typical property of the protagonists in tremendismo.

The few moments of joy in Valba's diary are related to love or with the hope that she would find love. The romantic story with Galo, an artist in the city, offers hope for a happy ending but becomes a failure that destroys Valba's soul and eliminates her optimism for a better future- She feels indifference towards life: "How many hours still extending before me! It is possible that I will still live for many years; what a great tedium youth is, how a great tedium, a whole life still to be traveled, to drag behind me! "  Valba also loses the ability to see love as something pure and beautiful: "I was like the top of a mountain. If I ever loved again, my feeling would drag a chorus of ridicule and parodies."

The violent and extreme situations are typical of tremendismo. In the case of Los Abel it’s not so much about violence as it is about death and intense moments forming a continuous chain during the story. Valba's narrative begins with the death of her mother who leaves her husband and seven children behind, some of them very young, who have to grow up under the harsh guidance of their father. To this event follows the death of the village’s teacher and although no one really cries for him, it is an adversity for the people. Later, Juan gets sick and ends up crippled. Then, when the littlest sister is preparing for her First Communion, the church is burned. A flood follows the fire: the river rises on its banks and threatens to take the house of the Abel with him. But the house, the strongest link in the family, continues in its place, at the foot of the mountains. In these mountains, Valba's father loses his life later on, and this event marks the beginning of the last chapter of the Abel family. Afterwards, there is no unifying force and the brothers who have remained in the village leave their home one after the other.

Matute completes the book with a violent ending. As we mentioned, Aldo, the eldest brother kills Tito, the luckiest brother of the seven. This crime is caused by years of envy and anger that have been growing inside Aldo. When he gets home and sees that Tito, whom his wife loves, is doing successful restructuring in the land of their parents, he can’t tolerate the injustice and shoots him. With this event, Matute uses for the first time the symbol of the Cainism, the known crime of the Bible, very frequent in her later works.

And so, the novel ends with this sublime piece of writing I felt the necessity to share with you guys:

“The two thunderous shots resounded, much more than the whole storm of our flood. The walls trembled and a thousand cries creaked on the stairs. The two bullets sank into that golden flesh, into that chest that always breathed rhythmically. But what revenge was that? What revenge ...? My God, Tito was youth! And I fell to my knees, and with that blood of his that was already sliding between the joints of the mosaics, I wet my face, as if it were a caress. 

This is what I read."

And...

I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you guys have any questions, please ask me!!!

Leave me your comments and opinions too!

tagging:  @katabasiss @hepiit @medusaswrites @quartzses @the-idiot-who-lose-you @writeblrs @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric  @leopardsnake-stories

[thepilotanon]

springbeauty xii

{masterlist}

We’re almost done!! I’m so excited for you guys to read and let me know what you think c: This fic has been very fun to write, but we’re not finished yet. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Enjoy!

warning: none!

If one has ever ran full force into a brick wall, completely unintentional, that would be the exact definition of what it was like being tackled by Clyde Logan. As much as the honorably-discharged man was tall and intimidating by looks, he was also fairly soft to the touch. Over his firm abs was that littlest hint of plush from his love of bacon and beer; his only hand, rough from mechanical work and being a handyman, still maintained softness whenever he brushed his knuckles against other skin or carefully pinched in a tease. His hair also soft as his honey-brown eye staring adoringly, as if in a trance, there was plenty of softness that Clyde had that many did not see on the surface...

Even so, being tackled into a rather crushing hug, it still felt like hitting a brick wall and easily knocked the breath out of her lungs. She was just thankful she stood up from the bench in time before he could completely wreck it.

His right hand clinging desperately to her damp back as his robotic prosthetic tangled in her wet hair, Belle nearly lost her balance before having her face shoved into his hard chest. With him being so tall, she was forced to get on her toes in order to breathe and register that it was really her boyfriend holding her so tightly in the rain, under the protection of branches and leaves as an natural umbrella.

Raining with distant thunder.

“Clyde!” Belle gasped as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, only for him to hold her tighter. “Wh-what are you doing out here? It’s a storm out and you’re all soaked! How did you even -?”

“M’sorry. M’so, so sorry, baby, please, please…” Clyde voice was raw and choked up, making Belle freeze in her attempt to escape his hug when she finally felt his shake against her. “Please forgive me, Belle. Please, please, Belle, I’m so sorry, I didn’t wanna yell at ya like that. I never wanna yell at ya! Please, don’t leave me.”

“Clyde? Honey, please calm down,” Belle tried to calm him, her hands sliding up his back and into his dark hair as he let out another rattling sob as he buries his face into her neck. She could feel his hot tears against her skin, urging her to massage the back of his neck and accept his weight leaning more on her as he cried. “Oh, honey…” Belle cooed sadly, urging him closer.

“I thought ya left me. I was scared. I was scared ya got hurt ‘n I wasn’t there to help ya. M’sorry,” Clyde babbled through his thick tears, nearly melting at feeling her familiar hands tangle into his hair. “Please, please, please forgive me, Belle. I never wanna hurt ya!”

Feeling her heart breaking and her own eyes growing tears, the woman hugged him back just as tightly. “I already forgive you, Clyde. You know that. I’ll always forgive you, my sweet man,” she told him outloud, swallowing the lump in her throat when she felt his hot breath let out a desperate exhale. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back quick enough, sweetie. I was so lost in thought and ended up here, then it started to rain…”

Sniffing, Belle snuggled her face into his hot neck and shut her eyes tight. “I forgot my fucking damn phone, and I left you all alone when it was starting to rain - Oh God, I’m so sorry, Clyde! I didn’t want to leave you; I don’t ever want to leave you like that, I’m so sorry!”

Her little outburst of quiet tears made him drop to his knees, keeping her upright by holding her hips with both his real hand and his prosthetic before wrapping his arms around her. Clyde didn’t give a damn about getting mud on his knees, nor did he care of how pathetic he looked crying like a baby to her in the middle of the nature trail. His nose was runny and eyes puffy, Clyde cried into her stomach and kissed her clothed belly, her hips, jeans and anywhere he can reach as he desperately held onto her like a lifeline. Clyde was shaking with the distant thunder, but he didn’t want to let her go. His heart was hammering against his chest out of adrenaline, but so happy to be reunited with Belle. He was so overwhelmed with her smell mixed with the rain, feeling her in his hand and against his body once more just felt so perfect that he didn’t care that he was in the storm.

“Don’t say sorry for somethin’ ya didn’t do wrong, baby,” Clyde whimpered against her belly as her hands remained in his hair, now knotted in her fingers. He felt so complete, it ached. “Darlin’, please...I love ya so much. I’m sorry.”

“I love you, too,” Belle hiccuped, wiping a tear away with the sleeve of her sweater. “Clyde, we need to go home, okay? It’s storming outside, we need to go home and get your medication. H-how did you get out here? We need to go home, honey.”

It took a while before Jimmy had to come and follow his brother’s footsteps to find his younger sibling clinging to Belle, his jeans all dirty and refusing to let her go, yet the older Logan brother didn’t seem bothered. However, Jimmy had to push Clyde to start walking back to the truck as soon as they could start to feel the thunder under their feet and the crying man jumped. It was hard to get him moving right away, yet Jimmy managed to force his brother to lift Belle and carry her (all while the woman tearfully apologized to Jimmy), but it worked out when Clyde yanked Belle into his lap in the passenger seat, snuggling his cheek against her, like a little child with his beloved teddy bear.

Before Belle could even say anything, Jimmy waved it off with a dorky grin. “Please, I’ll get you two back in one piece. Lil shit ain’t gonna let ya go, and I ain’t gonna make him. Jus’ glad to see yer alright, Belle.”

The ride home was quiet and easy, now that Clyde had his arms wrapped around his woman’s body, his face buried into her wet sweater and inhaling her flowery scent until Jimmy, jokingly, poked him out of his daze to let him know that they were home.

“Medication,” was the first thing Belle whispered to him when they finally got into the double-wide trailer and closed the door.

His eyes still sore from crying to much, he could only nod before Belle brought him to the bathroom and got him to sit on the toilet. Clyde allowed Belle to unwrap the borrowed sweatshirt from his prosthetic and unbuckling it before digging into the mirror cabinet above the sink. He wasn’t allowing Belle to stray far from him, his only hand gripping the edge of her top before she returned with his prescribed pill. He took it with water from the faucet before seeing her move the shower curtain aside to start the shower head on the other side of him, making Clyde reach with his arms to wrap around her wet clothed body.

Feeling his face hide itself into her sweater, Belle fell back to her feet and carefully brushed his dripping hair with her fingers. “It’s okay, Clyde. Just want to get you out of these wet clothes, before you get sick.”

His big eyes looked up to her, still red from their shared cries as he pouted to her. She let out a tired chuckle and continued to comb his hair while the water warmed up. “I promise I won’t leave you this time, handsome.” Belle pressed a gentle kiss to his head in promise.

“Stay with me, Darlin’?” he mumbled, his fingers shyly slipping under the hem of the sweater, rising the wet fabric a bit off her hip. She didn’t need to be asked twice when he exhaled tiredly and rest his cheek against her once more.

His face resting on her bare shoulder, Clyde stared into nothing as the warm water pelted against both his and Belle’s naked body. Feeling the warmth of her skin against his made his medication seep better through his body; the ease of the storm becoming nothing more than a boring song, his breathing nice and easy while he paid more attention to her heartbeat against his ear. Eventually, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Belle, the caul -”

Her thumb pressed against his lips to silence him, and he opened his eyes with furrowed brows. Turning her cheek to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, Belle spoke softly to his skin. “Shhh, don’t.”

“But…”

“You don’t need to tell me, Clyde,” she whispered, fingers twirling around his dark hair and he sighed at the gesture. “Whatever I was trying to pry out of you, please don’t indulge me with answers you’re not ready to tell me. I said I forgave you, sweetheart, don’t worry about it right now.”

Shifting his head to look at her gentle face, Clyde felt his chest warm up when she gave him a small smile. Lifting himself up a bit, his hand coming to hold himself properly on the rim of the tub, Clyde found Belle’s lips with his own and pressed numerous firm, loving kisses to her. His stump arm coming to wrap around her lower back as she leaned off the curve to return the affectionate kisses, her hands clasped behind his thick neck. Soon enough, Clyde could feel her smile in the kiss and the light giggles escaping her, which he returned the smile with his own toothy grin. Moving his kisses to trail from her lips to her cheek and neck before resting against her once more.

“I love you, Darlin’,” he breathed out, feeling it coming so easily after calming down from his nightmare.

After warming up and getting dressed in comfortable clothes, Belle carefully pushed Clyde into bed and under the covers. Willingly rolling himself to his side as soon as Belle got into her side, his right hand reaching for her as routine. Belle was quick to snuggle herself to his chest and throw her left leg over his hip, allowing his only hand to cradle the back of her thigh in his daze before letting the medication lull him to a dreamless sleep. Feeling her hands carefully rub up and down his chest, over his heart and shoulders, making him sigh and look down to her with a sleepy, loving stare. His thumb brushing the soft skin of her leg, Clyde curled himself a bit in order to touch her hair and head with his face, peppering kisses along her forehead and nuzzling into her hair.

Her soft hands coming to gently hold the sides of his neck, Belle pulled back far enough to meet his eyes. “How are you feeling, baby?” she asked him softly. Seeing him nod a little, she smiled at him and lightly scratch his scruff with her fingertips. “Clyde, sweetie, please don’t go out during a storm like that ever again, okay? I know it was my fault, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It only hurt when I couldn’t be with ya, angel. I was scared ya left me for good…”

“No, no,” Belle cooed softly, pulling his face down to press light smooches across his cheeks, whispering against his skin. “You know I would never, ever do such a thing to you, Clyde. You know that I love you too much to do something so terrible like that.”

“I know, doll,” Clyde agreed. “Jus’...still scares me of how, maybe, ya won’t come back from an argument we might have. Bad nightmare.”

“A nightmare that won’t come true, because you know we’re better than that,” she countered confidently, brushing her nose against his before cuddling her face into his neck. Her warm breath made him shiver with ease, making his eyes flutter. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. No cauliflower between us, no arguing about it. Nothing about anything right now, Clyde.”

“Then, what?” Clyde asked.

“Hold me close, like you always do,” Belle said against him, her leg drawing closer to have him as close as possible to her body and feeling his warmth. “And always remember that I love you so, so much.”

Releasing a sigh, Clyde draped his large arm over her and held her close. His head hitting the pillow, Clyde fell asleep by following her instructions with one more kiss to her head.

Being careful not to slip on the mud, Clyde kept his chin tilted down as he scanned the thick brushes around the woodsy floor. With his coat on, he didn’t seem to mind the chilly breeze passing by or the sounds of critters this early in the morning. Normally Clyde was very much against being up so early in mornings, often burying himself under blankets and pillows and cuddling himself against Belle’s warm body - more so trying to trap her in bed to avoid going to work without him, pulling the puppy eyes, and everything. This morning should have been no different, yet Clyde woke up by himself with a mission.

Giving Belle’s still slumbering face a gentle kiss to her cheek, whispering his promise that he will come back shortly, Clyde threw on his jeans and coat before going off into the woods in his backyard.

A major part of him felt at peace in the moment, the fresh air cleaning his lungs from his stress and the early morning light warmed his cheeks and hair from the side. All while keeping his eyes on the ground, the tall man found exactly what he was looking for, taking a deep breath as the sky changed to the brilliant colors of pinks and oranges.

Finishing his project on the kitchen table, Clyde checked the oven to see breakfast keeping warm before going down the hallway towards the bedroom. Belle was still sleeping soundly by the time Clyde slipped back onto the mattress and pressing his face between her shoulder blades, using his only hand to tug the shirt she was sleeping in up to kiss her spine to rouse her gently as possible. Feeling her shift from his gentle actions, Belle stretched her legs before rolling over to shove her hand against his face to stop him, making Clyde huff a quiet laugh and kiss her fingers. Seeing her opening her eyes, Clyde tilt his head to angle her way as she woke up more.

“Good morning,” Belle slurred in confusion. “You’re up so early…”

“Mornin’,” Clyde nodded, bending down to kiss her head and cuddle her. “Couldn’t sleep, so I made breakfast,” he explained as she circled her arms around his neck to hold him down. He willingly leaned his upper body against her, pressing his mouth to her cheek and jaw as she nuzzled her face tiredly into his shoulder. “Can ya get up ‘n eat with me, Darlin’? We will come back to bed, I promise. I ain’t a sudden mornin’ man just yet.”

“Mmhmm.” When she made no move to get up, Clyde lifted himself from the bed with Belle hanging from him with a cheeky snicker as he pulled her into an embrace. Belle turned her cheek to press a soft greeting kiss to the corner of his lips, making him smile. “You smell like pine and rainwater.”

“I was outside a bit, watchin’ the sun rise ‘n walkin’,” Clyde said as Belle hugged him while standing up on her own. “Although, it ain’t as mesmerizing without some pretty lady to share it with. I think I take some cuddlin’ and sleepin’ in a lot better, if ya ask me.”

“It’s even better with a big bear to snuggle with and keep warm.”

A couple days had passed from their moment in the rain, and both Clyde and Belle had shut themselves inside the trailer and keeping close throughout the remainder of the storms and icky weather. The rain finally ceased late last night, and Clyde slept soundly with the lack of thunder, thankfully. Jimmy had contacted everyone to let them know that everything was fine, and told the couple to take the rest of the week off from the bar and flower shop to “discuss” their argument and reconcile like adults with time and patience.

And, by discuss, they have only cuddled and watched movies in the comfort of their bed and talked about meaningless, silly things.

Jumping on some baggy sweatpants, Belle forced herself to wake up better all while Clyde waited patiently and took her hand in his only one to guide her out of the bedroom. Bringing her out to the kitchenette and table, Clyde smiled at Belle’s sleepy grin as she inhaled the heavenly smell of cinnamon rolls coming from the small oven, her eyes still closed and using him as a guide.

“Cinnamon rolls,” she sighed with a snuggle to his strong arm. “You actually made cinnamon rolls, all by yourself, handsome?”

“Well, they’re from the tin thing with that funny lookin’ puppet, so I didn’t actually make ‘em,” Clyde drawled when she huffed a laugh against his sleeve. “Followed the directions, though, so they should taste alright. Jus’ didn’t want it too hot with the stove on for bacon…”

“That’s okay,” Belle hummed soothingly, her eyes opening as she finally looked up. “I’m sure everything will taste perfect when…”

Belle slowed to silence as her eyes landed on the project on the little table, now completely awake.

The makeshift vase from one of Clyde’s tall drinking glasses were wrapped with a red ribbon he found from the Christmas decoration box. The thin, lavender colored petals decorated the top, contrasting with the red ribbon and wood of the table; all scattered on top with its small leaves, the bouquet filled out together almost similar to ones in a fancy store or magazine. Belle stared at it for a long moment before looking up to Clyde’s small smile with a curious gaze. She didn’t say anything at first, yet allowed Clyde to squeeze her hand a bit and bring her closer to the table with the flowers.

“Clyde?” Belle spoke with a soft voice.

“Fairy spuds, also known as springbeauty flowers,” Clyde started to speak carefully. “Plant roots are edible and some folks cook ‘em like potatoes, and come in colors of white, purples, pinks and yellows. Not many people really care for ‘em, ‘cause they’re so tiny.

“But they’re special to me, ‘cause they were the flowers I found in the middle of the frickin’ dark during my first date with this beautiful lady named Rosabelle,” Clyde continued softly, rubbing his thumb over her soft knuckles. “They were in some bushes during our walk, ‘n I jus’ excused myself to go grab them...didn’t even think for some allergy or nothin’ makin’ my socks itch.”

Belle laughed at his humor and he grinned as she covered her mouth with her other hand. “I kept tryin’ to find the meaning of springbeauties in all the books and online, ‘cause these lil things gotta mean something,” he continued. “It took a long time to find what they symbolize, but I found it.”

“What did you find out?” Belle asked him in a soft voice, looking to him as he stared at her with his honey colored eyes.

“They mean that ‘Clyde Logan is deeply in love with this Rosabelle lady more than he can ever put into words, and can’t see himself being with anyone else or give his heart to’,” he told her seriously, making her blink in surprise as he turned to face her, holding her hand to his chest. Placing her hand over his heart, Clyde pressed his palm on top of hers. “For a long time, I always thought I was gonna be alone forever, ‘til ya walked into my life from sellin’ Mellie that car. Ya made my heart do silly things and make me daydream ‘bout havin’ a future with ya after our first date.

“That night, when I got those springbeauties for ya, ‘n ya made that very beautiful smile at me and took my hand like ya did,” Clyde huffed a laugh when he saw how watery Belle’s eyes were getting, “these became my favorite flowers. They made me change my mind in livin’ that lonely life when I gave them to you, and I knew I couldn’t lose ya, Darlin’.”

“Clyde,” Belle sniffed with a smile, and he reached up to wipe away a tear from her cheek.

“Of all my flaws and bein’ how I am, I have never felt lonely since havin’ ya in my life,” Clyde continued with a toothy grin. “If you’ll let me, I promise ya Belle, I’ll spend the rest of my life tryin’ to show you how much ya changed my life for the better and how I appreciate all you’ve done for me.

“I promise ya, Belle,” Clyde declared as her hand slid up his chest and hold his face as he gave her a love-driven expression to her happy tears, “I won’t let ya ever come back to a place where no one else will come home, because I promise I’ll come home to kiss ya and ask you ‘bout your day. I promise I’ll ask you about the plant ya brought home, because I wanna help ya make it grow again with all your love; I promise I’ll make ya laugh when you had a bad day with whatever it takes, even make my funny Kermit voice when yer hidin’ in a ball of blankets…

“I’ll promise I will make you feel loved, Belle, with all my heart,” Clyde told her. “With all my heart, I promise I’ll love you for the rest of my life, if you’ll allow me. You helped me realize I ain’t lonely. You helped me find my favorite flower and made me realize that love is a beautiful thing just by looking at you. Will you let me?”

Unable to use her voice, trying to keep her cries back as best as she could, Belle nodded through her tears as she reached up with her hand for him to hold her. Clyde obliged, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her into his embrace as she began giving him kisses and hugging him tightly as she cried. Burying his face into her shoulder, Clyde took a deep breath to hold back his own tears as he rocked her in his arms as she babbled her love for him over and over through her crying, making his heart skyrocket beautifully. Kissing her clothed shoulder a couple times before she took his face in her hands and kissed him so happily, whispering her joy and happiness into it as he finally felt a couple tears slip down his face.

He was keeping to his promise already, making her feel like she was home.

Fun fact: I only recently learned that you can boil/bake the roots and seeds of fairy spuds like potatoes, and I’m happy to know this now (although, I don’t think I’ll try it anytime soon).

taglist: @ayatimascd @oh-adam @formerly-anonhamster @deliriumdoll @a-whole-damn-sackler @bourbonboredom

Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

[loveleads]

I Choose You Ella

You guys! I am wanting to share more of Ella’s story with y’all if that’s okay. I can promise you this, it will be long, it will be messy but yet it will also be beautiful, so so beautiful and I promise to be totally honest, raw and unedited. So friends, bear with me as I share my journey and my heart with you all.

December of 2015 I had a heart to heart with God, I remember tears flowing, heart breaking and dreams fading as I put in to words what I was feeling. As I sat there in my mess, I told the Lord He had two options (truth bomb, I know I know, the Jenna today wouldn’t give the Lord options, but Jenna 3 years ago did). The first option would be that He would grant me what I had asked of Him and I would get pregnant or He would need to take away the desire in my  heart to have another baby. I told myself I was fine either way, but the longing for another little Gruber was something I couldn’t shake.  

The end of January is when we found out about our sweet Ella. I was thrilled, a little surprised and totally grateful. When I found out I was pregnant with Wyatt, I was scared, unsure and unprepared. I didn’t know how to be a mom, I didn’t feel like I was ready to have children and I was certain we couldn’t afford a child at that time. When I found out I was pregnant with Maddy, I was certain there was no way my heart could ever love someone as much as i did Wyatt, so I was equally as scared and unprepared for Madelyn. This was the first pregnancy I felt like I was ready for. No doubt, no fear, no question about whether or not I was prepared. I learned with Madelyn that my whole heart could love each of my children equally and I knew I had more room in my heart for another child. I was ready, prepared and absolutely sure about this one. I considered myself a pro and thought I knew everything I needed to know about pregnancy and life with a newborn.

In March I went in for a routine ultrasound. I thought nothing of it and actually went in to the appointment eager to find out the gender of the baby. I was disappointed when the technician told me she couldn’t tell me anything about the baby and that she couldn’t answer any of my questions. I remember her being cold and short with me as she told me my doctor would be calling me soon. I had to follow up the ultrasound with blood work so I went directly to my doctor’s office for the blood draw. Mid draw,  the doctor raced in. I could tell in the way she spoke that something was wrong. She told the nurse to take more blood and looked at me to explain the situation. Something was found in the ultrasound and more tests were needed. 

The next morning we rushed to Eugene to see the specialist. We sat with a genetic counselor before we saw the specialist, she gave us all the worst case scenarios and explained to us all the options. After seeing the specialist, he confirmed what the ultrasound from the day before had seen and he sent us home. That two hour drive home was brutal. I sat in the passenger seat and cried, lots of ugly tears. I questioned everything and I honestly did not know what would happen next.    

As we drove home, we discussed what had just happened. We both so desperately wanted to hear that everything was going to be okay but didn’t. I left that appointment feeling heartbroken, I felt conflicted and I felt convicted. I had doctors telling me one thing about my baby and the word of God saying something completely different. The doctor said the chances of something being seriously wrong with our baby was 95% but then I had God’s word stored in my heart saying that my baby was fearfully and wonderfully made, created by God, in His image to be used for His glory. My head and heart said two completely different things and I was broken.

I remember the moment my doctor called me. I was at a local coffee shop having coffee with one of my best friends. One of the test results came back. She said it wasn’t bad but it also wasn’t good. She said we needed to make some plans. More tests meant more risk (with potential miscarriage) and termination of the pregnancy had to happen within a certain amount of time. I walked to the bathroom embarrassed by all the tears flowing down my face and I remember exactly where I stood as I told the doctor that we would not be terminating this pregnancy and we would not do any of the tests that ran the risk of miscarriage. As I said those words out loud I had a mixture of emotions. I felt relieved, happy, scared, uncertain, fearful and excited. I didn’t see what God saw in that moment. I didn’t know I was moving forward in trusting Him and His plans for my life. All I knew, was that my whole body was telling me I was wrong, to change my mind, to change our plans, to run and to run fast. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the first step to a beautiful journey that got me to where I am today. Jenna today isn’t perfect, I am a hot mess most days, but the Jenna today would have walked through that situation with much more expectancy, much more faith and much more confidence. Recently I was sharing Ella’s story with a dear friend, a mom who has been where I have been, who has successfully raised her daughter who also had some special needs growing up. I was saying how I wished I had the same confidence in Christ that I have now back then. That that confidence alone would have radically changed that year for me and for my entire family. You know what she said in response to that? She said, no, don’t do that. God knew exactly where you were and He knew what He was doing. Freedom!

Okay now back to the doctor’s phone call. Here I am standing in the bathroom of a local coffee shop, tears flowing as I am telling my doctor our plans. I remember her exact words to me, she said, and I quote “great! Now we have a plan and we will move forward with noninvasive testing.” Her words were simple and direct. She showed no emotion and didn’t question me and my decision. God’s littlest blessing right there. One of these days I plan on asking my doctor if she is a believer, because everything inside of me says she is and I know inside my heart that she extended much grace and love to me that day without even realizing it. Yes, she is my doctor and she can’t tell me what to do. But her words spoke directly to my heart as simple as they might have been, I felt comforted, I felt like we had someone on our side. She became such a pivotal part of my life that year. 

Matt and I sat at the edge of our bed one morning, talking to the doctor on the phone. After we talked about all the scary stuff, she asked me if we wanted to know the gender. We of course said yes. A girl. We both cried. Naming children is hard for us Grubers, we never seem to agree on names. But this one was different. We knew months before she was even created that her name would be Ella. Ella. This baby had a name, she was wanted, she had a purpose. Her name means light and although we didn’t know it at the time, she would become the very meaning of her name.

Over the next few months, it seemed like we couldn’t catch a break. One thing was ruled out and another thing became a concern. None of my other pregnancies were high risk, so the term alone scared me. It brought so much fear and uncertainties in to my life. I looked around at friends who were pregnant or just had their babies, all healthy and whole. My heart broke silently. I was jealous, envious, angry and confused. My life that year was hard. I closed off people who loved me, I told myself that no one else knew how I felt and therefor I didn’t want their encouragement, support or help, I cried all the time, I questioned every little thing I did and I sincerely wondered if this was all my fault. 

About a year ago I attended a book study with the ladies of my church. We read through the book called “The Emotionally Healthy Woman” (haven’t read it? DO IT! Life changing for sure). One of the chapters talked about Faulty Thinking. Faulty thoughts enter in to our minds if we allow them. They are the lies we tell ourselves that determine our attitude, it determines what we do and how we behave. Reading this book, God highlighted a faulty thought I held on to for over a year, one that almost destroyed me. When Ella’s ultrasound came back saying that something was wrong, I immediately felt responsible for it. Here I had two healthy children at home and I was asking for more. I told myself that God said no to me for so many months and yet I kept asking. After Ella was born that thought continued, I didn’t realize it at the time, but it would show its ugly head every now and again. Every time Ella had a test done, every time Ella struggled, every time she fell behind or was in pain, I blamed myself. My faulty thought told me I choose this life for Ella and now, I had to sit back and watch her struggle, watch her fall behind and watch her suffer. All because I wanted one more baby. I took this lie to heart and I felt it for a really long time without even realizing it was stored in my head, my messy, messy head. After Ella was born, the faulty thought hung out in the back of my mind and only came out in the hard times. It came out when we were waiting for test results, when we were waiting for referrals, when I sat in the hospital’s waiting room for a test to be completed and it came out every time I took Ella to the doctor’s office. It showed up on play dates with friends who have babies the same age as Ella and it showed up in my home, often. This faulty thought’s only mission was to destroy.

So, faulty thoughts can destroy, yeah I learned that the hard way. Once that lie was brought to light, it no longer had power over me. I was free from the thoughts that once held me captive. I began flooding my heart and mind with God’s truth. Every time a faulty thought popped up, I would give it no room to rest in me. I combated the evil thoughts with God’s truth. My sweet girl was the one we waited for. It took us months of disappointment because God knew exactly what He was doing. He knew our family needed this ONE. He knew I needed this one. He knew this world needed this one. He knew that this child would be the one who got my attention, the one who radically changed the way I see people, the way I see God, the way I see the world. I was a compassionate person before Ella, but man can I tell you the depths of my soul long to walk alongside women who are hurting, women who feel lost, women who feel alone. There is power in our story, if only we allow others to hear it.

Ella was dedicated a few weeks after she was born. I knew her life verse before I even opened my bible. 1st Samuel 1:27-28  “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” Friends, Ella’s story isn’t over yet. The first year of her life was some of my hardest days I’ve ever walked through. But that is another story for another day.

[book-o-scams]

Either 1. Do an analysis on the scene from A Fistful of Ed where Eddy sticks up for Edd. Starting from after Kevin leaves the scene to the end when the Ed's are sharing hotdogs. Or, if you don't wish to do an analysis (But, still think about doing an analysis) you can answer this question. What is your favorite thing about Eddy sticking up for Edd in a Fistful of Ed? *Look at the post on my page if you have any questions.

I love this scene SO MUCH!  I’m gonna do this under the cut, I don’t have time to comment on everything right now so I’ll add a few more comments after I get dinner.

These screenshots are from a folder I made forever ago labeled “Raw Eddy” because I LOVE the way Eddy’s rage from over the entire series finally boils over (pretty literally, the animators rev up his boiling outline to an extreme twitch before he erupts) and all that frustration turns out to be the group’s secret weapon against their biggest enemy at that time.

Ed clutching his heart is a thing that I keep noticing in the final stretch of the series and it does a good job repositioning Ed’s seemingly unhelpful nature to Ed just being too easily frightened by antagonists.  As Nazz clarifies in the movie, the Eds are all cowards and that’s a big reason they just accept defeat so often.

“HEY!!!”

I wonder if this is a reference to that angry point-up that Eddy did in ‘An Ed in the Bush’, which everyone took as this show’s version of the middle finger:

I really don’t have much to say about this scene after all the gushing I’ve done over the years.  I just appreciate how much you can read EVERYONE’s thoughts via their expressions as they process this scene.

Like, it interests me A LOT that May is now the one reacting the MOST like a Kanker in this moment, because it makes a good deal of sense since Lee and Marie are more interchangeably interested in Edd AND Eddy, but it really doesn’t come up much.  This may be the scene where I like Marie the most, too, because despite seeming like the hyper sister, Marie seems the least able to mask her fear when an Ed snaps.  Lee shows an interesting new shade here too, though, genuinely surprised but interested in seeing a respectable side of Eddy.

Tattoo this Eddy on my face

(sidebar: please do not break into my home and tattoo my face)

This Eddy too, GOD he’s drawn so well this whole damn episode.  Look at the arch of his mouth and how it’s already causing his eyes to bug out before the big eyeball gag.

And here’s that big eyeball gag!

Wow I never noticed that May needed to GRIP the ground to stay there.

Also note that only May manages to see every stage of this face.

ALL of those drawings just to say “HE’S HAD ENOUGH ALREADY!” Eddy is that scary, that animated, that completely outraged AND in-character, yet he isn’t even being mean!!  Everything he said in season 4 about being done with everything about the show (or his life, your call) finally gets put in action.  Edd acknowledges this afterward as a defiance of “a cliche show ending” and it’s hard not to feel the catharsis in the art, that after every trauma Eddy went through, he’s at least earned the right to get away with one big “FUCK YOU“ to the show itself, and yet it still manages to contain character growth, coming from a place of caring for his friends, that he manages to verbally express without being mushy.  This is a complete and utter triumph, and a testament to the show’s art style to boot!  PERFECT CAPPER TO THE PRE-FISTFUL WORLD.

It’s also just such a relief to think of how brief a time that was, that the Eds were pursued by the Kankers, if we are to believe the show follows one year June-October + winter specials + next summer movie.  Yet it’s also a little sad to think how quickly the Kankers changed the Eds’ personalities, when flashbacks suggest the characters had been more or less in a pleasant season 1 stasis for several years.

They are all visibly shaken.

“BEAT IT”

Marie surrenders and her eye darts between the scene’s current dominant figures.

Lee obeys, May ollies out, and Edd is pleased..

Then confused...

It takes a moment for this moment to sink in for Edd. Marie exits peacefully as well. Lee awkwardly hobbles away on her giant cast, reminding us what the Eds have gotten away with this week.

The surprise that this is really happening hits Edd.

This pout confounds me.. I think it’s meant to convey that Edd is really feeling the weight of this moment, but it reads a little more like he’s upset the Kankers are leaving, which is not how he acts for the rest of the scene.

I LOVE Marie looking back at them.  There’s a weird knowing feeling that this will lead to Marie dancing with Eddy instead of Edd in the episodes after this.

Finally, the focal point returns to just the Eds.

Edd immediately rejects any confusion that pout may have caused and blows a quick raspberry at the Kankers.

Ed gives Eddy the first round of compliments, and it feels good.  I don’t think it really matters the order in which he receives gratitude, but it does feel appropriate to have Ed be impressed first, since Ed has pretty much failed to acknowledge Eddy this whole story and also should realize by now that he can stop the Kankers from attacking his friends.  Imagine if this scene had followed the arc the story up until that point and portrayed Ed as the hero instead of Eddy?  It could have been fitting and sort of cute, maybe it would have turned Eddy a little nicer by witnessing it.. But with the hype created by The Best Day Edder marathon and the pressure created by the public acknowledgement that this would be the finale to a really infamously anti-Eds season, it feels so much more appropriate to separate this moment a bit and give Eddy a chance to show his softer side after being sidelining himself all day.

Cute

CUTE

Edd starts telling Eddy how touched he is by this act.

Eddy lowers his guard.

Eddy is MORE alarmed than Ed when Edd struggles to get up.

Eddy doing the most “this is as much concern as I think men are allowed to show” pose and expression...

Eddy raises his guard right back up.

But it’s okay, because Edd and Ed manage to exude cuteness from every frame for the rest of this thing, despite looking horribly injured.  In a weird way, I also really enjoy this episode beating the tar out of Ed and Edd and several kids, while Eddy just gets stepped on the gentlest way he’s ever been stepped on.

Edd puts a hand on his heart and praises Eddy’s “camaraderie,” the hardest word in the world for me to spell.

This pose...

hONESTLY THEY ARE SPOILING US

there’s even a wiener in his mouth

droop

Eddy trying to act like a tough guy still, does his best Popeye squint and tells Edd to “eat and shut up,“ but also gives Edd a friendly nudge on the chest and then eases into this oddly “exposed” expression.

P.S. this Edd is so cute too, haha

Ed asks for one and it makes Eddy get frilly for a second.

Eddy briefly seems to actually care about granting Ed’s wish.  This is also a cute Edd.

I HATE HOW EDD TURNS EDDY’S SKIN TONE FOR LIKE TWO FRAMES. Eddy’s face is humorously not-mean while he clearly know what he’s about to do.

Eddy wiseguys the sweetness out of the moment, but Ed’s still pleased.

Edd complains, however, and once again Eddy seems unhappy that he’s made things unsatisfying again.  This scene does a really good job summarizing Eddy’s struggle with being rightfully depressed but continuously misfiring it at his friends and regretting it.

Ta-Dah!  Eddy does his trick again and even does a silly gesture to lighten the mood.

Eddy looks a little embarrassed as he fetches his own hammerspace hotdog.  Edd graciously thanks him.  Ed’s circular chewing is very cute.

I wish there was a line, something less corny than “this is better than jawbreakers,” but still SOME way of internally comparing this scene to the Eds eating jawbreakers at the end of episode 1.  The general feeling I get from this ending, as an ending to the series, is that it doesn’t matter what they get at the end, as long as they enjoy something together.

As they all enjoy their dinner in such animated detail, Eddy double-checks that they’re all happy. Awww, he still wants to vocalize how much he’s trying to care.

Ed and Edd pose even cuter to express their joy and Eddy sighs “good,“ still clearly uncomfortable reveling after such a fit, but still relieved to have won something and been well-fed.

As the iris in/out closes on our redeemed little troll-man, he blurts out a little “jeez,” a similar undercutting beat to the previous series finale, with old man Eddy interrupting his friends’ laughter to complain about still wanting to be a kid.  However, as he continues chewing with the littlest bit of a grin, this episode manages to make it feel like false whining, Eddy needing to maintain his hardened cynical personality yet actually feeling satisfied for once.  I was so happy for him, and I’m so glad all the episodes afterward give him little victories as well.

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in History: Chapter 13

Authors’ Note: Happy middle of the week! Finally Rafael and Natalia reunited...what is next for Rafael? Read on and find out! @rauliskafan and I are so happy about the response and feedback, honestly it means the world! To know that you guys love Rafael and Natalia as much as we do just makes our hearts soar! So thank you and we hope you enjoy chapter 13!!! Also, for those who want to go back and re-read or catch up, I updated the Hard Lesson Series master list!

           “Look what the cat dragged in!”

           Strange to think that it had just been a little over a month. In some ways, in so many ways, it felt longer. Not that he lacked for things to do. The twins were a full-time job in and of themselves, and Violetta wanted to talk to her Papi every chance she got about the next bedroom they were redecorating and the perfect color scheme she had in mind. Always time with Natalia, home and safe and sound when they fell into bed at the end of each day.

           And yet, even as he had imagined ivory towers in the rain, something was missing.

           Pausing before the reception area, Rafael felt the room stop save for a few phones ringing and some uniforms milling about. He focused on Rollins and Carisi’s smiles as they waved him towards their desks.

           “Long time no see, counselor!” Carisi said.

           “You’ve been missed,” Rollins chimed in.

           “Is that a fact?” Rafael asked. Stranger still to think on how a small part of him wanted his caseload to collapse to the point where no one else but him could pick up the pieces.

           “Ms. Selby is smart,” Carisi said. “But she’s far from… familiar.”

           “Does that make me an old shoe, Carisi?” Rafael quipped.

           “No I… I didn’t say that, counselor.”

           “I’m not offended,” Rafael said. “And no need to use titles when I’m not…”

           He stopped at the sound of chuckles stemming from Liv’s office. Taking a small step to his right, Rafael saw Eve Selby tossing her head back, and Liv mirroring her movements.

           “Looks like someone’s made fast friends,” Rafael remarked.

           “Liv does like her,” Rollins admitted.

           “Why not?” Carisi said. “She had Buchanan shaking in his boots with Willard.”

           “Surprised I didn’t feel the ground move,” Rafael sneered.

           “All jokes aside, she is sharp,” Carisi said.

           “You got a crush, Carisi?” Rafael asked. The detective appeared tongue tied, and Rollins swiftly rose from her desk to stand with him toe-to-toe.

           “You jealous, Barba?” Rollins teased. “You know you’ll always be in his favorite lawyer.”

           Both men were rendered speechless as Rollins walked away, giggling.

           “She’s playing around,” Carisi said.

           “The raucous laughter clued me in,” Rafael stated dryly.

           “Any word on how much longer the suspension is going to last?” he asked.

           “No idea. Think Cutter’s waiting until Willard is sentenced.”

           “Hope they lock him up and throw away the key.” Rafael was about to agree when he caught sight of Dodds.

           “There you are,” Rafael said.

           “Hey,” the sergeant said, shaking his hand. “Everything alright?”

           “I was in the neighborhood,” Rafael said.

           “Seriously?” Carisi asked. The two other men cut their eyes towards him, and the detective threw his arms in the air.

           “Come on! You buying that, Mike?”

           “I…”

           His voice trailed off when Rafael cleared his throat.

           “Could be you’re just here to ask when Maggie and I are coming around to dinner again.”

           That wasn’t exactly it, but...

           “Natalia would like to know,” Rafael said. “Don’t let me go home empty-handed.”

           “Thinking this weekend,” Dodds said. “Or maybe you should come to us this time.”

           It would be something to see their new home with all of Maggie’s touches. As long as she didn’t…

           “Maggie won’t make that… what did she call it again?” Rafael asked.

           “A raw kiwi tart with ginger, mint, and coconut,” Dodds said.

           “Doesn’t sound half bad,” Carisi said before taking a call.

           “Now it’s all coming back to me,” Rafael replied with a shudder.

           “How do you think I feel?” Dodds challenged. “I had to taste test the batches that she didn’t bring over.”

           “You’re a braver man than I,” Rafael said starting to step away from the scene, suddenly feeling as if he was intruding on his own stomping ground.

           “Hold up,” Dodds said, grabbing arm. “You okay?”

           “I’m fine,” Rafael assured him.

           “Even though you’re out of the loop?” Dodds asked. “Don’t tell Maggie, but it’d kill me if they forced me to take leave.”

           “Says the man who didn’t want to come back after his honeymoon,” Rafael said.

           “This is different,” Dodds shot back. “And I wouldn’t blame you if---”

           He said nothing else as Eve Selby emerged from Liv’s office, laughing with the lieutenant and sauntering through the squad room. The clicking of her heels against the floor came to a halt when she locked eyes with Rafael.

           “Mr. Barba,” she started. “Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

           “Everyone acts like I can’t pay a social call,” Rafael said.

           “It is a different look for you, Barba,” Liv teased. “So is the Spring chic. Or whatever you call that.”

           Straightening his blazer over the peach colored polo shirt and crisp khakis, Rafael scrunched up his nose.

           “It’s bordering on business casual,” Rafael said.

           “And perfect for the next time you come on or off a yacht.”

           At that he had to laugh, and Liv left them when Carisi called her name.

           “Dodds? Can you give us a minute?”

           Now his stare was centered on Eve Selby as the sergeant nodded, and Rafael followed Eve to a quiet corner where she waited, smiling and looking serene.

           “Everything really going alright?” he asked.

           “These cases… they aren’t for the faint of heart.”

           “Not exactly the kind of thing you saw in Queens,” he said.

           “I wouldn’t say that,” Eve said. “Deviants have all kinds of zip codes.”

           “But you just---”

           “I was talking about the pace,” Eve continued. “The quantity. But make no mistake, Mr. Barba; I am more than capable of dealing with these perps and keeping the conviction rate well above winning.”

           The determination in her voice and in her stance caused him to take a step back.

           “You seem surprised,” Eve said, obviously reading his body language.

           “No, I… naturally you’re experienced.”

           “But maybe you were hoping that I would botch the whole thing up to get you back in the big chair sooner?”

           Lowering his eyes, Rafael tapped his toes and felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole as Eve reached for his arm.

           “Rafael, don’t look like you lost your puppy dog,” Eve said. “All I’m doing is holding down the fort. Cutter will want you back.”

           “Got any idea as to when?” Rafael darkly joked.

           “Damn. Left my crystal ball in my other bag.”

           That got a genuine smile out of him, and Rafael did not so much as flinch when he suddenly felt the woman’s hand in his.

           “But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,” she continued. “Cutter has to make a point.”

           “Understandable,” Rafael said.

           “And once he has, you’ll come back to find everything will be as you left it.”

           When not if. Her vote of confidence led him to shake her hand, and Eve went her way with a friendly wave.

           “What she said,” Liv echoed. “You’ll be back here in short order.”

           “And maybe you’ll see me and Maggie in a night or two,” Dodds promised.

           “Sounds like a plan,” Rafael said. Exiting the building, he turned on his heel once he hit the sidewalk. Something started to gnaw at the pit of his stomach and slowly crawled up his throat before he bit down on his lip.

           “What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered under his breath. Opting to walk a few blocks, to clear his head, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Every intention to take the subway was stifled by the need to keep moving, fearing what would happen if he stood still.

           “Rafi! Back so soon!”

           And before he knew what hit him, he had traversed the length of the city back to the townhouse.

           Bowing his head to kiss his mother as she rocked Holly in one arm and tickled Hazel’s tummy with another set of fingers, his lips formed a small smirk.

Which earned him the feel of Lucia’s palm pressed underneath his chin.

           “What?” he asked.

           “Why are you making that face, mi hijo?” she asked. “Didn’t you have fun visiting your friends?”           

 “You don’t need to talk to me like I’m Violetta,” he said as he shrugged off his jacket.

           “Your other daughter is upstairs being very industrious,” Lucia said. “But you’ve been wandering around the city like you lost a cat or something.”

           Why was everyone equating the loss of his job to something fuzzy and furry that couldn’t even speak?

           “Upstairs?” he echoed.

           “With your wife,” Lucia said. “The colors she picked are a hit.”

           “Oh, this I have to see.”

           Leaning down again to kiss his littlest girls one after the other, Rafael knew enough to peck his mother’s palm before ascending the steps. The sound of Violetta’s excited squeals followed by soft hands clapping led him through the nearest door.

           “Papi, papi! Look what we did!”

           Leaping off the floor, Violetta practically flew into his arms. He held her tight and let his eyes fall over the bright orange area rugs, the color so reminiscent of the pocket square on his first day back at work from so long ago. Maybe the orange didn’t quite mesh with shades of gray. But paired with a lime green comforter and complementing lamps, Rafael marveled at the room come to new life and sighed when Natalia’s hand made its way to his back.

           “Our sweet pea nailed it,” Natalia said. “Wonder where she gets her sense of style.”

           “From you, hermosa,” Rafael remarked. “If Liv is to be believed.”

           “You two played nice at the squad, right?”

           How did he tell her that he felt like an intruder on his home turf, that the sight of every gear grinding and the mill running like clockwork made him wonder if it would ever be the same when… if he went back? Not that he adored Natalia any less. Not that he didn’t want to cherish this time in their tower. But what if he looked in the mirror one day and didn’t recognize himself any longer? What if Cutter made his suspension permanent? Without his job, what was he---?

           “Here you are! We be waiting for you!”

           Wiggling until he lowered her to the floor, Violetta charged towards the doorway to take Ashtonja’s hand and pull her deeper into the room.

           “Sorry,” the girl muttered. “I went for a walk. Is that okay?”

           “Of course it is,” Natalia said as Rafael folded his wife under his arm and scanned Ashtonja’s face. Since that fateful night, since a few weeks later when they took her in, the girl looked like a blank canvas, pale, unwilling or unable to let any kind of blush come to her cheeks lest she betray the many emotions that had to still swirl around her soul.

           “It okay!” Violetta agreed. “But look! We make this all pretty for you. I pick everything out.”

           Ashtonja slowly circled the room, her fingers grazing the lamp shades and the pillow shams. Holding his breath, Rafael was ready for her to sound polite. The girl was never anything but when eating dinner or offering to pitch in around the townhouse. But would she match Violetta’s excitement? When the world that she had known for better or worse was no longer an option?

           “Asht… Ashtoy… ugh!”

           Violetta stamped her small foot and pulled on the older girl’s sleeve.

           “I think I just call you Ash,” she said. “That okay?”

           “Yes,” Ashtonja said, blinking back a few tears.

           “If my name too hard, there lots of different things you can call me,” Violetta said. “But do you like how we make your room look?”

           Taking one last look, Ashtonja slipped to her knees and gently grabbed Violetta’s shoulders.

           “I do,” the older girl whispered. “Is it… is this really mine?”

           Natalia nodded, and Violetta swiftly followed suit.

           “Yes! All for you!” Violetta exclaimed, hugging her neck as Natalia kissed her husband’s cheek.

           “See?” she said, her voice soft. “She just needed to get used to us. We’re not so bad.”

“You are all perfect, mi hermosa flor.”

           Natalia nearly kissed him in response when the babies wailed from below.

           “Come on, Ash,” Violetta said. “They wide awake. You take Hazel, and I take Holly.”

           Ashtonja avoided Rafael’s eyes as Violetta pulled her through the door.

           “Did you see Mike?” Natalia asked as she smoothed her hands down the front of his shirt.

           “I did,” he said. “And Liv and Carisi and---”

           “I know you want to get back to it. Don’t lie to me.”

           “I… yes,” he confessed. “But I… I am happy here.”

           “You better be,” she said, finally kissing his lips. “But?”

           “But… if it’s all over with the DA, it’ll take a lot of getting used to.”

           “Change is always hard,” Natalia admitted. “Talk to Ashtonja. I think you two are more alike right now than you know.”

Gathering her in his arms, Rafael breathed in the vanilla scent wafting off his wife’s hair. He was happy here. He had no real choice but to let the chips fall where they may when it came to any decision from Cutter…

           …and maybe a chat with Ashtonja was the best idea in the grand scheme of everything.