#assessing the circumstances right? AND I FIGURED?? as long as it's giving my partner something to work with

[mythvoiced]

-. lil side-note i've recently noticed about my writing (at least here on dumblr): i like to take my time lmao. as in, not in terms of replying speed, there i'm just slow, full stop. but i think i just?? like to move things along slowly? progress through conversations, slow-burn the FUCK out of a thread. lately, i've been trying to indulge myself in that more, to focus on character (both yours and mine), so if you feel 'hmmm this reply doesn't move us real quick' MY BAD, i don't like rushing ♥

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

A Little Blood Never Hurt Anyone

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (Reader Menstruates, but no pronouns used, reader is Marcus’ partner not specified as GF or BF)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T (Nudity, nothing sexual though, are boy is just here to help you)

Warnings: Blood because periods and your embarrassment, but Marcus is a sweetie and he is here to help you. 

Summary: There’s one thing about Marcus that differentiates him from all your past boyfriend’s and that is that he’s an adult man who acts like an adult man. He’s mature, he’s responsible, he’s kind, he’s pragmatic and romantic. So when you’re bleeding everywhere, it surprises you, but really shouldn’t, that he’s calm, collected and just wants to take care of you.

Notes: This is a theme I come back to, I think mostly because as an adult who menstruates there’s something deeply attractive about a man who’s a actual adult and can’t handle you bleeding from your vagina like an adult and not like a child who can’t even say the word period. 

Archiveofourown

There was never a worse feeling than the slick wetness of blood pooling between your thighs at 2 in the morning. There was not a worse way to find yourself roused from sleep than to feel that sensation as blood slips down your inner thighs and pools beneath you soaking into your bed covers and clothes, this wake-up call was made exponentially worse when you realised Marcus had slept over and that you’d never even had to broach the topic of periods with him. No, no conversation had ever happened, you had no idea what his attitude was, but now you’d gone and bled over your bedding and partly on him, if the feeling of blood pooling near where he was curled around you was anything to go by. You hadn’t expected to have to deal with this with your boyfriend of four months, but you supposed it was inevitable, seeing as it happened every month. 

With a groan you push the duvet off of the two of you and sit up to assess the damage. Turning on the lamp, Marcus barely stirs as you take time to figure out what’s happened. There’s a noticeable red spot through your pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet underneath has a large wet spot too, looking to Marcus you feel embarrassment warm your cheeks at the blood stains on his pajama bottoms where he’d been curled up with you. It makes you want to cry because this is not how you wanted to wake up or spend your morning and you’ll have to wake Marcus who already has to get up early to leave for a case at 5am. He shouldn’t have to get up early and he shouldn’t have to have his pajama bottoms ruined by your blood. 

“Marcus...baby.” You shake his shoulders gently, wincing at the feeling of blood slipping down your legs as you sit up and how gross you feel in that moment. You can’t believe it came a whole week early, a whole week, how were you supposed to predict that? 

“Mmm, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick and heavy with sleep, deeper than usual if that’s possible and under any other circumstance it would make you want to curl up into him as he talked to you. 

“I...I started my period and there’s blood everywhere, I’m sorry for waking you, baby, but you need to get changed...I...I’m sorry.” It’s the embarrassment and upset in your voice that wakes him up fully, forcing him to sit up and take stock of the situation. You’re right there’s blood on him, but that’s okay, his pajamas are the ratty sort that he should have thrown out years ago anyway. You're covered in it and the bed needs changing too, but it’s okay, he thinks, this is okay, he can do that simply enough. He’s never minded changing the bed. The sheets are dark enough in colour that it shouldn’t stain too badly. He’s calculating the best course of action, what to do first before he even notices your downward gaze and trembling lip.

“Hey...honey,” He’s cupping your cheeks in his hands, large and warm. They bring your focus back onto him and not the blood that is drying on your legs or the aching that’s starting up in your lower back and abdomen. “It’s okay, a little blood never hurt anyone. Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” He keeps his voice soft for you, hands stroking a gentle thumb on the apple of your cheek before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

He’s wide awake now as he steps out of your bed and walks to your side, hands gripping your own as he walks you backwards to the bathroom. The bed can wait until he’s got you into the shower and got you some clothes and whatever else you need. You come first and you’re clearly uncomfortable as the blood flows steadily downwards with the force of gravity.

“I’m so embarrassed, Marcus…” You can’t wait to get clean, you feel horrible and uncomfortable. The lure of warm water has you picking up the pace to the bathroom even though your stomach cramps are getting worse and worse with each second. 

“Honey, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. If it’s about the blood…” He gestures to the red stains on his sweatpants that you just know aren’t coming out with how they’ve already dried, “I’m an adult, a little blood doesn’t bother me and I needed to throw these away anyway.” 

He turns the shower on, letting it heat up as he begins to help you out of your stained pajamas. He’s certain he can get the blood out of them if he gets them in a tub to soak fast enough, the blood is fresh enough. He knows they’re your favourite pair and he’d hate for you to have to throw them away, “I don’t ever want you to be ashamed of your periods, sweetheart, it’s natural. It’s okay.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You think back to the last couple of boyfriends, how they just couldn’t even stomach you mentioning your period let alone the sight of blood or a sanitary towel or tampon. He’s so vastly different in the maturity with which he’s handling this that it confuses you that he’s not shying away from you right now. 

“Baby,” He holds your face in his hands again once you're free of your clothes, “I don’t know what sort of guys you were dating before, but they should have helped you with this, okay? I’m not setting a new standard, I'm just doing what I should.” It breaks his heart to think that you’re ashamed of your body, of something that you can’t help and that you somehow think he’s something special for doing what anyone should do for their partner when they’re bleeding for days on end. It’s the least you should expect from him. 

“Now, get your cute butt in that shower and I'll get these clothes in a bucket and change the bedding. Do you want one of my shirts to change into? Where do you keep your tampons? Pads?” Taps you on the butt, a light tap urging you under the warm spray before gathering your clothes. 

“Yes please, I think there’s one in my closet? The flannel that you left last time? I’ve got some stuff in here in the cupboard,” You think to your stash under the sink, grateful you weren’t running out of anything. 

“The flannel, got it, honey!” 

He leaves you to your shower and strips the bed off first before anything else. The blood spot is pretty large, but it’s still wet and once again he’s pretty sure the stain will come out, especially in the darker fabric. His pajama bottoms follow, they’re probably a lost cause but he figures he might as well try and clean them just in case. He putters to your kitchen and fills your mop bucket up with cold water and stain remover, leaving the laundry in it to soak before putting it anywhere near a washing machine.

The flannel is in your chest of drawers and he grabs it along with a pair of your underwear that he’s sure are one of your comfier pairs. You’re still under the stream of hot water when he comes in to place them on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

“Got some clothes for you, sweetheart.” He takes a moment to watch you. He’s just happy to see you relaxed, sure it’s early in the morning and he’s tired, but seeing you brighten, that’s worth it. He can sleep on the plane later, it’ll take a few hours to get from DC to New York where his case is and he doesn’t mind being tired if it means your day goes a little smoother. 

“Thank you, baby.” You sigh out in response, the warm water easing some of the pain in your body. The cramps never feel as bad under warm water and your back ache eases a little bit at least. 

“Do you have a spare set of bedding?” 

“Umm…” You have to think for a moment, what did you do with your old bedding, did you throw it out? No, you wouldn’t have, surely not. “Maybe? Check the cabinet in the hallway?” 

He finds it hidden in the back of the hallway cabinet, the bedding doesn’t match the current colour scheme of your room but he doesn’t think that matters much when you just need a clean, comfy bed to fall into. He has the bed made by the time you’re walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet, his flannel over your shoulders. 

“Get into bed, honey.” Marcus urges you, opening up the blankets for you and sliding in besides you. 

You reach over and turn the light off, “I’m sorry I woke you up at 2am…”

“It’s okay, sweetie, you need anything else?” He asks as he wraps himself around you, arms tight around your waist, face pressed into your shoulder, dropping little kisses there. His beard tickles a little, he’s still got the thing, not that you mind. He’s warm and he smells like comfort and that’s all you can really ask for even while your uterus is having a go at you.

“Just hold me till I fall asleep?” 

“I think that can be arranged.” A leg slips between yours, toes pressed into the back of your calf and it’s like having your own living, breathing weighted blanket. He becomes a comforting weight at your back, a warmth that has your eyes drooping and you yawning into your pillow. 

                                               -------------------------

The next time you wake up it’s to say goodbye to him at 5 in the morning. He demands you stay in bed, giving you a longer than necessary kiss on his way out and making sure the laundry is in the washing machine before he leaves. You miss him the moment you hear the front door shut, but allow yourself to nuzzle back into your covers and fall back asleep. The lethargy you always feel around your period hitting you like a truck already. 

Work for the next few days is a killer. Your back aches, your stomach keeps cramping so hard you want to bend yourself in half to relieve them. You’re constantly hungry, constantly tired, and everything your co-workers say gets on your nerves. Added to missing your boyfriend, who’s off trying to deal with another stupid art thief who couldn’t wait a few more weeks before deciding to steal a Picasso, you’re having a hell of a week and a hell of a period. You’re not sure you’ve had one this bad in a while actually. 

It’s a Wednesday evening when the door to your home opens and closes again, the sound of keys being thrown on the side and shoes being kicked off meeting your ears. You’re curled up on your sofa, a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach in a vain effort to relieve some of your discomfort. 

“Marcus?” You call out because it can only be Marcus, no one else has a key to your place. You’re a little confused because he always phones you when he’s on his way back from a case, but the rustling of bags and his deep voice calling down the corridor reassures you that maybe he just forgot, it’s certainly not a burglar. Unless, he has an evil doppelganger somewhere. 

“It’s me, honey!” He drops his bag by the door, he’ll deal with the dirty laundry later and follows the sound of your voice into the living room. You’re curled up amongst what looks like every blanket you own, mind numbing TV playing that you’re not even watching, your face is scrunched up in pain and you're clutching your stomach. This part of the reason he decided to forgo going back to his own place, he wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay, that and he really missed you.

He drops the shopping bags on the coffee table and crouches next to you, fingers pushing back strands of your hair and smoothing the harsh lines by your eyes as you wince. You’re warm to the touch and he hopes that’s normal for you and not a sign you’re getting sick on top of your period. 

“You okay?” 

“Just cramps. It’s okay...I’ll be okay., I’m just glad you’re back, I’ve missed you.” You ease into the soft feeling of fingers, the delicate little touches to your skin as rubs little circles into your temple and down your neck. You’ve missed this, missed him. You always miss him, but this period has hit you especially hard and you wanted him around more than ever.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, but you grab his tie and pull him back down. Nipping at his bottom lip he opens his mouth to your tongue, hand cupping the back of your neck before you’re gasping in pain as another crump hits you. Marcus pulls back and presses his forehead to yours with a sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Would a bath help? I stopped at the store on my way over, got some of your favourite bubblebath and those baked things that you like.” 

“Have I told you lately how you’re the perfect boyfriend?” You ask pressing kisses over his cheeks before settling for brushing your nose against his. You’re not sure how he manages to make you feel better even when you’re in pain and hormonal, but like a magic cure he does. 

“Mmm.. I don’t think so?”

“Well, you’re the perfect boyfriend and I love you very much.” You press another kiss to his lips, sighing into his mouth before pulling back and settling back into your nest of blankets. 

“I love you too, why don’t you stay here? I’ll go run that bath.” He reaches down to grab the bubblebath from the bag and tosses you a few bags of your favourite snacks to munch on while you wait. You decide then and there that anyone who ever gave him up was an absolute idiot who couldn’t see that they already had the crown jewels. Why would you ever want anyone else?

He’s never understood your fascination with burning hot bath water, but he makes it how you prefer it even if it’s a tad hot for his tastes. If he wasn’t so sore from his flight, he might have tried to carry you to the bath, but the last thing he wanted was to drop you when you weren’t feeling great, so instead he just moves your half eaten snacks to the coffee table and pulls you gently by the hands to your bathroom. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way he helps you undress, it’s something you love about Marcus, that he can put aside his libido to help you get undressed and into your bath. There’s no touches outside of the caring and gentle ones, no comments about your nudity, just him helping you get into the hot bath water. You sink into it like it’s the finest feather bed, watching him undress himself, before sliding in behind you. Legs on either side of yours, chest pressed to your back. 

Your tub is a little small for the two of you, so you can’t stretch out completely, but that’s fine because you’d take it being a little cramped and Marcus being there over being on your own. He helps you wash, careful with you at every step, gentle as he whispers how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you and tells you about his case and how they managed to catch the gang of thieves this time. 

He massages the back of your neck and shoulders as you lie against him, working on the knots that have started to form over the last few days. A pop in your neck has you sighing and you’re thankful for the press of his fingers over your spin and through the knots that have been causing you to lose sleep while he’s been gone. 

The two of you stay there until the water begins to get cool, Marcus helping you out of the tub and drying you down with a towel. He collects your clothes and helps you get dressed for bed even though you can put your things on yourself. It’s nice that you don’t have to, that he carefully slides your legs into your pajama bottoms and drags your favourite sleep shirt over your head before pressing two quick kisses to your lips and ushering you into bed. 

“Marcus, where are you going?” You ask when he leaves you there, hand grabbing his as he walks past you to the door to the rest of your home. You just want him wrapped around you right now and can’t understand why he’d leave you.

“I’m going to lock up, honey, and grab your blankets. I’ll be back.” He gives your hand a squeeze. He loves that you want him around, after all the times he’s been more invested than his partner, this time, this time it feels right. You don’t just tolerate him, you love him. You want him there and it makes every little thing he does for you infinitely more rewarding when he knows you appreciate him for everything. 

“Quickly?” You’re cute staring up at him with a pout and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to take longer than is strictly necessary when he knows you're waiting for him to come back to bed and curl up beside you.

“Quickly.” He leans over you placing a kiss to your nose before going to lock up. He makes sure all the windows are shut, the front door locked, the television off, all before grabbing the pile of blankets you’d left on the sofa to return to you.

He throws them around you, letting you grab a few to snuggle up with, before climbing in bed beside you, spooning you from behind. He takes a deep breath and feels his body relax with the familiar smell of your shampoo and the feeling of your warm skin against his cheek. He could spend the rest of his life looking after you, curling up with you after coming back from a case and he would die happy that way. He’d happily take care of you through every single period and every single bout of sickness, just as long as he gets to be with you. 

“You need anything?”

“No, everything I need is right here, baby.” You sigh back into his arms, twisting a leg through his as he rubs a hand over your stomach soothing away the lingering pains with gentle circles.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 47

Title:  Truth

Warnings: profanity, slight angst, mentions of suicide attempt, depression,  mental health issues

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip​

“Esme told me. About your so-called girls trip. That it was nothing but bullshit.”

Sighing heavily, Riley leans back against one of the panes of glass; legs stretched out in front of her, arms folded across her chest. She’d only arrived an hour ago, and the initial joy and excitement of being rushed by a horde of children had been quickly replaced by frazzled nerves and nibbles of anxiety. The moment he’d approached when she’d been alone in the kitchen, she’d known it wasn’t with good intentions; the deep rumble of his voice, the tense shoulders and jaw, the increasing darkness taking over his eyes. And she’d barely gotten words of acknowledgment and acceptance out of her mouth when his fingers had curled around her upper arm and she found herself being manipulated her towards the sunroom. The door closing behind them and her brother in planting his large, strong frame directly in front of it.

She’s been witness to his ire; possessing a hair-trigger temper that’s been unleashed many times in her presence. Unsuspecting motorists in town that have come too close to his kids while in the crosswalk; profanities hurled in their direction, objects thrown at the car, a foot put through a headlight or front grill more than once. Overzealous parents at the soccer park or lacrosse field that believe their eight year old is the next athletic superstar; pacing the sidelines while screaming insults at teenaged referees and freaking out over poor play of their own kid or others on the field. Only to have a tattooed, six foot three, ‘built like a brick shit house’ coach storm across the grass to confront them on their bullshit; quietly yet intently calling them out and often physically escorting them away from the game. Or men that have the audacity to not just check his wife out, but make lewd remarks about her to their buddies or even attempt to follow her while making suggestive and highly sexualized comments. Never imagining that her husband is either just feet in front or behind her, or even across the street waiting to meet up with her. 

They always regret their decision when they see him happen upon the scene; casually and calmly greeting her with a warm -albeit brief- embrace and a chaste kiss to the lips before turning his attention to the culprits. While some will put up a good fight and try to defend their egos and their masculinity by arguing with him, most attempt to apologize their way out of the mess they created. Stammering and stumbling over their words; frazzled and intimidated and even visibly shaking from the fear of getting their asses handed to them.

She’s even unintentionally wandered into the house while Tyler and Esme have been engrossed in a blow out themselves. Shortly after his release from the hospital; the horrific and constant pain and the frustration of slower than expected healing getting the better of him and causing to snap. Nothing too serious; raised voices and cupboards being slammed and plates and utensils being angrily tossed into the sink. By BOTH parties.

While seeing the actual explosion of his temper is bad enough, it’s the lead up that tends to be the scarier. The darkening of the eyes and the cold, fixed glare. The way his shoulders tense and his jaw clenches. The visible throbbing of the vein his neck; surgically repaired twelve and a half years after a teenager’s bullet that sliced through it and nearly taken his life. And while his height and his powerful build and the myriad of tattoos and scars are intimidating to most that come in contact with him, Tyler is not a threatening person. At least not intentionally. He’s normally quiet and reserved; taking the time to sit back and watch and listen to the people and the activity around him. Thoroughly analyzing and calculating every move they make and the words that come out of their mouths; assessing whether they both pose a threat and if they can be trusted and allowed into his extremely small, tight circle. Once you get to know him, you realize that while he’s a big man, he has an even bigger heart; compassionate and patient and possessing so much love and adoration for his wife and his children. Enormously protective; wanting nothing more for them to be happy and safe. And willing to do anything and everything to keep them that way.

She has never been on THIS side of the fence; the one being targeted by that intense and unwavering gaze. Not once getting on her brother in law’s bad side; enjoying the teasing and light hearted bickering and the backhanded compliments that their relationship has been built upon. Knowing what subjects to never broach and what lines to never -under any circumstances- cross; acknowledging and respecting his triggers and always doing her best to steer clear from them. A mutual respect exists between them; Tyler grateful for the never ending support that Riley provides her sister with, and Riley ever thankful for the world that he’s created for her sister. A man that loves her so profoundly and unconditionally; making her the centre of his universe and putting everything he has and everything he is into giving her a good life. Making her a mother; something she’d wanted for years and had given up hope on when things between her and Mark had gone so wrong. A hands-on father and a partner in every possible way; devoting every spare minute he has to her and his kids and doing whatever he can to make amazing memories for all of them to carry into adulthood. She’s never seen Esme THAT happy; peaceful and content despite all of the issues that have plagued them and the rocky terrain they’ve covered together and the scarier than hell situations they’ve gone through. Somehow making her even stronger than before; resilient and phenomenally patient, yet ferociously protective when need be.

“I told her she needed to tell you,” Riley says, and nervously drums the fingernails on her right hand against the wine glass clutched tightly in her right. “That it had gone on long enough; her keeping that a secret. That you had the right to know and…”

“I had a right to know WHEN it happened,” Tyler interjects. “What I can’t figure out is why no one realized that then. Why you didn’t tell me. Why you kept it a secret.”

“She asked me not to. Said that it was better if you didn’t know. She was worried what it would do to you; putting that kind of extra worry and stress on you when you were already going through your own shit.”

“And you agreed with her?”

“No. I didn’t. I argued against it, actually. Right away I told her that it was a bad idea; keeping that kind of thing from you.”

“But....”

“But when Esme gets something into her head, it’s hard to sway her from it. You know that better than anyone. You don’t easily change her mind when it’s dead set on something. She was convinced it would be bad for you. That hearing something like that could trigger you and bring on an episode and…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“She was worried, Tyler. About the issues it might cause. And I told her that you were a lot stronger than she was giving you credit for; you were more than capable of taking care of your shit AND hers. But she was adamant to do things her way and I didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was. I didn’t want to make her worse.”

“You should have called me. Right after you got off the phone with her. As soon as she told you how she was feeling, you should have hung and got a hold of me and told me what was going on.”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you. She asked me to help her, and I did. I went over to the house and I stayed with her and the kids. I did everything I could to calm her down and talk her off the edge…”

“That should have been MY job. I should have been the one to do all of that.”

“Well you weren’t exactly around, were you. You were thousands of miles away. On a job. A lot of good you could have done being all the way in Brazil. Instead of home with your family.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn this around on me. What I do for a living and how I provide for my family is none of your business. I’m not the same guy I was when I met your sister. I’m not that deep in it anymore.”

“You run a mercenary business. You may not be the one going out there and putting your ass on the line and killing people, but you’re still sending other guys to do it. Your hands aren’t clean, Tyler. Don’t pretend they are. I don’t care what you do or what you used to do. I don’t care how many lives you’ve taken or HOW you took them. But don’t act like you’re innocent. Not with your track record.”

“This isn’t about me or what I do for a living or what I send other people to do. None of that matters. That’s business. It has no bearing on my personal life. I’m not the same guy when I’m working as I am when I’m at home. When I’m a husband and a father. That’s the only thing you should give a shit about. How I treat your sister. And I love her and I will do anything to protect her.”

“You wouldn’t have to do that if you didn’t do what you do,” Riley counters. “ Do you ever stop and think about that? How you wouldn’t have this fear of something happening to her or someone hurting her if you weren’t who you are?”

“I wouldn’t have met Esme if I wasn’t who I am. You seem to forget that part. That she was in it just as much as I was. That she was working WITH me. She’d been in the game for a while; before she ever met me. So she’s not entirely innocent herself, is she. If she had been, she never would have shown up on my doorstep that day. I never would have laid eyes on her. There’d be no us and there’d be no kids. And your sister and those kids? Best damn things that ever happened to me.”

“I don’t deny that. Same way I don’t deny how much you love her. Or that you’d do anything for her. But she asked me to keep it a secret. She wanted to protect you.”

“And you just went along with it.”

“Against my better judgement, yeah, I did. I didn’t call you because I didn’t need your help. I had it under control. I got her calm and off the ledge and…”

“I should have been the one doing all of that. And if you’d just called me…”

“And what? What would you have done? What could you have possibly said that would have been any better than what came out of my mouth? Look, I understand; I get why you’re pissed. She shouldn’t have lied to you. And I told her that.”

“ You should have never kept that from me. You should have told me what happened. The things that she said. That she was that bad off. That she was going to hurt herself.”

“I don’t think she was going to do it. I think she was anxious and panicking and scared and,...”

“It doesn’t matter if she was going to do it or not!” he argues. “The fact she even said it is bad enough. And you should have told her you weren’t going to lie for her. You should have told her to fuck off when she even brought up this bullshit of wanting to protect me. And you should have called me and told me and I would have come home. Right away.”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you. She asked me to help her and keep it a secret and I did. Because she’s my sister.”

“She’s my wife!” he snarls. “The mother of my children. And I’m sorry if it pisses you off that both those things trump her being your sister. Don’t even compare the two. I’m her husband. I had every goddamn right to know what happened!”

“You did,” Riley admits. “But I’ll hold firm that it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“My wife tells you that she wants to kill herself and you don’t think it’s your place to tell me that? What if you weren’t around, Riley? What if you didn’t live right next door? Or even in Australia.? What if she hadn’t been able to call you for help?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because I DO live there.”

“It fucking matters to me. What if she’d tried to call you and couldn’t get a hold of you? What then? What if she had decided to go through with it? You know what have happened? One of my kids would have found her. They would have wondered why mummy wasn’t up in the morning to make them breakfast and get them off to school. And they would have gone in there and found her. Dead. Kids, Riley. MY kids.”

“I never thought of that. I never…”

“Do you know what that would have done to them? Finding their mother like that? Do you know how bad that would have fucked them up for the rest of their life? If they’d seen that?”

Struggling to hold back a flood of tears, she takes a swallow of wine in an attempt to wash away the lump of emotion threatening to choke her. “I just never considered all of that.”

“I know what it’s like to lose your mother. At a really young age. It screwed me up. And it continues to screw me up; everything that came after it and all the bullshit I went through because of my father. And the way I lost her? That was bad enough. But it would have been nowhere like how my kids would have lost their mother.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I never…”

“I had a right to know. As soon as she told you how she felt and what was going through her head? You should have called me. I would have been on the next plane home. There is nothing in this world that is more important than her. Nothing.”

“I know that. I know how you feel about her. I see it every time you look at her. The way you smile at her and always find little ways to touch her. The way you watch her when she talks. I’ve always seen that. And you’re right; I should have called you. But my main concern was taking care of her. Making sure SHE was okay. I did what she asked.”

“What stopped you from telling me after you got her settled? Once you realized she was going to be okay. What stopped you from calling me? Some stupid fucking promise you made to her?”

“It wasn’t a stupid fucking promise. She was trying to protect you. She didn’t want to put it on you. Didn’t want to take the risk of it causing you issues. And I have to say, I agreed with her. To an extent.”

“I’m not some fragile fucking piece of china you have to coddle and keep away from everyone. I’m a grown ass man. And I may be messed up and have mountains of shit I deal with every day, but I am more than capable of taking care of your sister. Of my wife.”

“I know. I know you are. And I’m sorry that it came out this way. That she waited this long to tell you. I’m sorry that…”

“Don’t.” Tyler holds up a hand to silence her.. “Don’t do that. Don’t put all the blame on her. I get where she’s coming from; she’s neurotic and she worries about me and she’s got it in her head that she needs to protect me the same way I do her. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell her I don’t need it or that I don’t want her doing it; she’s going to go ahead with it anyway. But you? Going along with that? When you know what she means to me? How can you stand here and defend this? Act like it’s no big deal that you kept this from me? What the fuck, Riley?”

“I said I was sorry. That you had to find out this way. That it took this long. What more do you want from me?”

“How about admitting you fucked up? That you never should have gone along with it. That you should have called me. How about admitting all THAT?”

“Let’s get something straight, Tyler. You’re not my boss. I’m not one of your ‘guys’. You don’t dictate how I do things. You don’t question my decisions. You don’t chastise me for ‘bad behaviour’. I love you. I think you’re a great guy. In the same way I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Me-Me. I think you’re an amazing husband and an even better father. But you’re my brother in law. That’s it. I have no ties to you other than through my sister and my nieces and nephews. My loyalty lies with Esme. First and foremost. And I’m sorry that you think this is some horrible betrayal. I did what my sister asked. That’s it.”

“What you did was wrong. And you fucking know it. We aren’t just talking about some girl, Riley. We’re talking about my wife. The mother of my children. My SEVEN children. The woman that I love more than anything in this world. Who I love more than I ever thought I could love another human being. Who saved my life. And if you can’t understand why you should have told me…”

A knock comes to the door, followed by the rattling of the handle .“Dad?” TJ’s voice from the other side. “Can I come in?”

“Not right now, mate. Auntie Riley and I are talking about some stuff. That little ears don’t need to hear.”

“Mum wanted me to check on you. To make sure you were alright. You’ve been a little...off...for a few days.”

“Tell your mum I’m okay. That there’s nothing for her to worry about.”

“Yeah...right…” TJ scoffs. “This is mum we’re talking about. She worries no matter what. You think you’d be used to it by now. You’ve only been married to her for like a hundred years.”

“Twelve,” he informs his son. “In October. Feels like it’s been a hundred years some days.”

“I won’t tell her you said that. I know how much you hate sleeping on the couch. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Teej. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Go and get washed up for dinner, okay? Make sure your brothers and sisters do too. Food will be here soon.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“You’re gettin’ as bad as your mum. I’m fine. Everything’s good. Go and do as I said. Tell mum I won’t be much longer.”

“Alright,” TJ reluctantly agrees, and Tyler waits until he hears him walk away; heavy, stomping footsteps across the kitchen floor as he shouts the information from one end of the house to the other.

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree when it comes to this,” Riley says, and downs the remains of her wine. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call you. That my main priority was my sister and not calling you.”

“For the last time, your sister is my wife. And my main priority is her. Twelve and half years. That’s how long I’ve been with her. That’s how long I’ve been going through hell and back with her. FOR her. You don’t even know the half of what we’ve been through together. The crap that we’ve dealt with. I’m the one that’s been there; by her side through every fucking shitty thing that’s been thrown us. I’m the one that’s gotten her through a lot of hard times. The one that’s talked her down and kept her calm. Who’s been stepping up and being there for her no matter what I’m going through. So don’t you stand here and tell me that I couldn’t have done a better job than you when it comes to taking care of MY wife .”

“I could have been there for her too, you know. And I would have been had you NOT moved her all the way to the other side of the goddamn world.”

“You know who you sound like right now? When you say that? I’ll give you three guesses but you’re only going to need one.”

Riley scowls. “Don’t you even go there. I am nothing like her. I’m the one that accepted you into the family. I’m the one that saw how good you were with her. FOR her. I’ve always been on your side, Tyler. Even when everyone else was against you and I ended up getting alienated for it. Kicked out of my own family because I always defended you. Because Esme was happy and in love with you and I could tell you felt the same way about her.”

“So you were on my side. So what? You want some kind of award for it? A fucking cookie? You were a kid, Riley. You weren’t even a senior in high school when we moved to Colorado. You had no clue what happened. Why we had to leave Australia, how we were broke as fuck and ended up living in your folks’ basement. It broke your sister’s heart to leave. We didn’t have much, but we were happy there. Happier than either of us had been in a long time. She had someone that loved her and a beautiful baby girl and she didn’t want much more than that.”

“You’re right. I don’t know the details. I don’t know the reason you guys came back. I WAS a kid. And totally absorbed in my own world. But it didn’t mean that I didn’t care about my sister. Or miss her. That I wasn’t glad she was back.”

“She never wanted to go back to Colorado. That was all me. All my idea. And she went along with it and she tried to make the best of it and it nearly fucking destroyed us. You have no clue how bad things got. The issues that being there caused. How close we came to ending everything. All she ever wanted was to be back in Australia. She would cry about it at night; tell me that she wasn’t happy and that she was worried being back in the States was going to destroy us. And it came close. So fucking close.”

“I didn’t know that. I know that you had some problems. That you started drinking again and got back into the job and the pills and…”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. That we’ve kept back. From everyone connected to her family. I didn’t just move your sister to the other side of the world. I gave her what she wanted. I busted my ass to make it happen; to get her back there. To get her home. Because that’s where she wanted to be. So don’t fucking pretend you know what we went through and don’t ever accuse me of taking her away from you. Because that’s not what happened. That’s just what you’ve been told.”

“It is,” she admits. “That’s exactly what I was told. I mean, I knew most of it wasn’t true. I knew you weren’t controlling or abusive and that you didn’t force her to go back. I knew you weren’t that kind of guy. But I WAS a kid. And still stupid enough to believe most of the bullshit that was being fed to me.”

“When I say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for your sister, I mean it. They aren’t just empty words. I’m not just saying it to hear myself talk or to make her feel better. I say it because it’s one hundred percent true. And had you called me, I would have been on the first flight home. I would have said ‘fuck the job’ and got on the next plane out of there. So I could help my wife.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I SHOULD have called you. But I was so worried about her and I thought what I was doing was right for her.”

“You played a really dangerous game with my wife’s life. Do you realize that? How badly it all could have backfired on you? How one little thing could have set her off? If you’d just called me, I could have talked her down. I could have gotten her off that ledge. A lot easier and a lot quicker than you did.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t…”

“I DO know that. Because I’m the one that she needed. I’ve always been the one she’s needed. And that’s not just going to stop. Not until I’m dead and buried and I can’t do it anymore. What she wanted at that time and what was best for her, were two totally different things. And the fact you didn’t realize that? That you played this fucking game with her life?”

“That’s not what I was trying to do. At all. I thought I was doing what was best for Esme. That’s what we both want, right? To do what’s best for her?”

“That wasn’t what was best for her. That was possibly the WORST thing for her. I know she’s your sister, but I’ve shared a life with her for more than a decade now. I think I know her a hell of a lot better than you do.”

“Of course you do. What the two of you have? That love? That bond? That’s way more than she’s ever had before. With anyone.”

“Don’t ever play a game like that again, Not when it comes to Esme. You have no idea what it would do to me to lose her. What it would do to my kids. HER kids. So don’t you ever again underestimate my ability to take care of my wife. Don’t you EVER get in between me and her again.”

Riley approaches him; slowly and cautiously, palms raised in both surrender and a plea for calm. “That is NOT what I meant to do. I would NEVER do that. I wasn’t trying to cause issues between the two of you. I was trying to help her. That’s it.”

“Well you almost made an even bigger mess, so…” his words trails off and he takes a step back when she attempts to embrace him. “...don’t do that. Don’t touch me. We’re not back at that point. We won’t be for a while. I’m not the kind of guy that just hugs it out, you know?”

“I’m trying here, Tyler. I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. For the lie to get as far as it did. I told her to tell you. I told her…”

“Oh my god…” he chuckles and shakes his head incredulously. “...you just don’t get it. You either didn’t listen to a goddamn word I said or you don’t give a fuck. You never should have went along with it. It’s as simple as that. You should have called me. So I could take care of my wife. But you didn’t. You fucked up. You caused all of this. Don’t put all the blame on her. I won’t let you do that.”

“Can we at least agree that we both want what’s best for her? That even if we DO make mistakes, all that we really want is what’s best for Esme?”

“I think that’s one thing we CAN agree on.”

“And can we go out there and at least pretend to be friends? I don’t want to make things worse on her. You know she’s struggling. That she’s having a really hard time right now. Can we at least do our best to not make things harder for her?”

“Yeah…” he nods. “...I can do that.”

“I really am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t think things through better. But I really did think I was handling it fine. That I was doing what was best for her. For my sister.”

“I know what’s best for her. For my wife. Even more than she does. So I appreciate your help, but I think you need to step back and realize that you don’t know shit. Not when it comes to this kind of thing. Next time...and I hope to hell there isn’t a next time...you call me. Regardless of what she says.”

“I will,” she promises. “I definitely will.”

“This ends here. What we talked about, the things that were said. She doesn’t need to know. It’s better if she doesn’t. If she asks, we had a heated discussion and disagreed on a lot but we got through it. What really happened doesn’t go further from this room. Understand me?”

Riley nods.

“Don’t you ever question my loyalty or my ability to take care of my wife,” he warns, then turns on his heel and heads for the door.

*****

It’s shortly after midnight when she hears his footfalls on the stairs. The sound familiar and comforting; the slight drag of the right leg, the soft creaks as wood shifts and flexes under his weight. Three hours ago he’d gone upstairs to tend to the kids’ bedtime routines; keeping the older yet easily distracted ones on track, giving the littlest their baths and combing out the girls’ hair and helping them into their pyjamas. Since her confession earlier in the day, he’s been even more hands on and attentive than usual. Practically glued to her side and quick with the affection; spontaneous hugs or arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, gentle fingers combing through her hair and tucking it behind her ears, kisses pressed to her forehead or temple or corners of her mouth. Insisting on either helping her with things around the house or refusing to do anything at all; ordering to sit back and relax and let him and the kids take care of her for a change.

While it had been both welcome and appreciated, she’d also been well aware that he’d been overcompensating. Her admittance to thoughts of self harm and suicide not doubt a kick to the gut; opening his eyes to just to the depths and the extent of her own issues, and feeding into his number one fears. It’s always been his worst nightmare; losing her unexpectedly and to something he could have controlled, or at least prevented. Illness and an accident on the road are horrific in their own way; a disease that eats away at her and eventually kills her, or something that suddenly and unexpectedly occurs and snatches her out of his life. But to lose her to something he could have stepped in and stopped is completely unacceptable in his eyes. An assailant he could have fought off or at least prevented from getting closer to her. An action by her own hand would be something he’d never considered. In twelve and a half years she’s never spoken of harming herself; the one who’d had to stop him from taking his own life.

It had definitely blindsided him; how close he’d come to losing her and never even realizing there’d ever been the potential of it. And not being told sooner had devastated him. She’d seen the pain in his eyes; the hurt and the anger and the feeling of betrayal. He’s always stepped up and taken care of her regardless of his own issues and suffering; pushing everything aside to focus solely on her and what she needs.

Her not relying on him in the moment had done more damage than actually carrying on the lie. HE should have been the one she called. Confident he would have been able to calm her down and talk her off the ledge; giving him the time to get home and concentrate on her problems and her needs. And he would have done it; abandoned the job in favour of returning to Australia and focusing solely on her. But she hadn’t been in her right frame of mind; immediately believed that she had to protect HIM.

She definitely regrets THAT decision. And for keeping it a secret as long as she did.

“Hey,” she greets, looking up from the tablet resting on her thighs as he reaches the bottom landing. Clad in a pair of shorts made from cut up sweats and an old and tattered muscle shirt; the fabric littered with messes composed of dried paint, tiny hand prints infused with glitter, and stains made by various baby ‘accidents’ over the years. Hair messy and sticking up in several different directions; a pout curving his lips and the heels of his palms pressing into his weary eyes.

Twelve and half years later and he still brings about so many emotions and reactions. From lust to adoration to love and even melting because of moments of sheer adorableness; this big -and often intimidating- heavily tattooed man that possesses the strength and know how to kill with his bare hands often so cute and pure that her heart -and her hormones- can barely handle it.

“Hey,” Tyler says in return, pausing to lock the front door and set the alarm before switching off the foyer light and padding into the living room. “You’re awake.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you. You’ve been up there for a hell of a long time. I wasn’t sure if you’d crashed hard or been abducted by aliens. Or if you were just avoiding me. Like the plague.”

“Well I’m happy to report that no aliens showed up and anally probed me.”

“Your worst nightmare,” she grins. “Anyone getting anywhere near your ass.”

“I let you near my ass.”

“Let me rephrase it. Anyone exploring your ass with more than a finger.”

“First off, you’re disturbing. Second, I had three little ones fall asleep on me. Before that, one story turned into two, two turned into three, three turned into a dozen. Can you maybe burn all the copies of Goodnight Moon? Can they mysteriously disappear? Because I have been reading that damn thing almost every night for almost twelve years. What’s left of my sanity can’t take it anymore.”

“You know, instead of resorting to burning books, you could always say no to your children.”

"Yeah, not gonna happen.” He drops down heavily beside her. “I did crash, by the way. In Addie’s bed. I just woke up about ten minutes ago. She kicked me right in the nuts. Good thing you don’t want anymore kids.”

“There’s something so cute about that.”

He frowns. “About her kicking me in the balls?”

“No. About you falling asleep there. This big, burly guy with all his tattoos and scars totally crashed in a frilly canopy bed fit for a princess. I would have LOVED a picture of that.”

“Sorry to disappoint. None exist. You don’t get a chance to publicly humiliate me on social media. Not on this night, anyway.” Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, then stretches out his legs and places his bare feet on the coffee table. “And why would I have been avoiding you? What would be the reason for that?”

“Well I did fuck up. HUGE. And I did hurt your feelings. And offend you. All at once.”

“We talked about it. We said shit we needed to say. It’s done. Over with. Let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and slides closer to him on the couch; tucking her feet under her body as she snuggles into his side. “Let’s.”

Wrapping an arm around her petite frame, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up ideas for the backyard.” She holds the tablet up for him to see; an image of a tiny cottage made of distressed white wood and boasting a shingled roof and a sunlight and pink shutters on the windows. “We finally have the opportunity to totally concentrate on it. All the renos out of the way, all the garages and the granny flat are built, the pool house has been redone. Now we can work on other things. What do you think? It’s a she shed. I would LOVE a she shed.”

“That’s what they’re actually called? I’ve been calling them bitch barns.”

“You would,” she frowns, and he chuckles when she digs an elbow into his ribs. “Think you could build it?”

“Shouldn’t be hard. I’ve built a lot more complicated. And if you really DO want one, I’ll get on it. Soon as we get home.”

“I really do. Want one.”

“Then a bitch barn you shall have.”

She scowls.

“She shed,” he quickly corrects. “A SHE SHED you shall have.”

“And I was thinking a fire bowl. For the corner of the first floor deck. Closest to the pool. One of those propane ones. With the coloured glass stones. We could build a seating area around it, maybe get another swing to hang near it.”

“Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. Just buy what you need or give me a list and I’ll take care of it. You know I really don’t care about this kind of stuff. I mean, it’s not that I don’t. It’s just that I trust you and you always pick out nice shit and it always looks great when it’s done.”

“You really ARE the best husband on earth,” Esme declares, and presses a kiss to the side of his neck; lips covering the scar long ago left behind by Farhad’s bullet and the surgery to repair the vein.

Smiling, he gives her hip a gentle squeeze and then runs her palm over her ribs and up onto her arm. Tightly clasping her shoulder as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I try. All I wanna do is make my girl happy. And if what makes her happy is making the house look nice and wanting it to be beautiful and comfortable for all of us, then I’ll do whatever she needs me to do to make that all happen.”

“You DO trust me,” she chides, and leans forward to set the tablet on the coffee table before once more snuggling into him; arms circling his waist and her head resting on his chest. “How do you know I’m not going to buy stuff you’ll hate? That I’m not going to go crazy with the pastels? Or pink? Addie would LOVE that. We do share a favourite color, after all.”

“First of all, I know how much you love colour. The brighter the better. Second, you’d never do that; just buy stuff that you’ll like. You’ve NEVER done it. Not once in the past twelve and a half years. If you know I’ll hate, you won’t do it. That’s just not how you work.”

“Damn it,” she grumbles, and playfully pinches the sensitive area below his right ribcage. “That’s what I get for being so predictable.”

“It’s not that you’re predictable. It’s just that I know you. Very well. Better than you know yourself sometimes. Isn’t that kind of our ‘thing?’. Knowing one another better than we know ourselves?”

“Been our thing since almost day one. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think? As screwed up and as damaged as we were, we just...I don’t know...took to each other.”

“Is that before or after I tried to choke you out?” he chides.

“It was almost like we’d known each other for years. We knew what the other was thinking, we could express things to one another without even using words. We trusted each other. And it’s not like trust came easily to either of us. But for some reason, we knew we could. We had faith in one another.”

“My instincts told me you were good people. That I COULD trust you. And what do you always say? About how good my instincts are?”

“You have incredible instincts. They’ve never lied to you. At least not as long as I’ve known you. I have to say…” she grins up at him “...I’m quite happy that they thought I was good people.”

“It’s pretty safe to say I’m happy about that too.” Giving her shoulder another squeeze, Tyler slides his arm further up and wraps it around her neck, pulling her flush against him as he kisses her. Nothing urgent nor intense; fingertips and the pad of his thumb repeatedly grazing along her jaw as his lips move slowly and sinuously against hers. Her eyes still closed when he pulls away; the bridge of her nose wrinkling when he presses a kiss to the tip of it. “I feel like ice cream,” he announces. “Want some ice cream?”

“Hmmm…” She tilts her head to the side, crinkles on the bridge of nose deepening as she considers it. “...cheese toast.”

“And ice cream?”

“Why not? You only live once. Do you think we could have sex afterwards? My cramps went away and my period isn’t due for two weeks, so…”

“We can have sex first and then cheese toast and ice cream?”

She frowns. “Naww. Cheese toast first.”

“Are you telling me you’re picking cheese toast over having sex with your husband? Do you realize how hurtful that is? How offended I am?”

“I’m sorry! You know there’s anything in this world that’s better than sex with you. Nothing. But I’m hungry. And...well...this is cheese toast we’re talking about. You know how much I love cheese toast.”

“You claim to love ME, but I dunno…”

Her fingers fidget with loose strands of thread on the neckline of his tank. “Don’t be like that. You damn well know that I love you. Don’t want me at full strength? You don’t want me running on an empty tank do you? Because then I’ll get tired easily and I won’t be at my best and…”

“Won’t bother me. Your best is only at a B plus.”

“B plus! You asshole!” She aggressively ruffles his hair, then laughs when he curls an arm around her waist and dumps her onto her back. “You’re mean,” she dramatically pouts, as he places a foot on the floor and a knee on the couch beside her; palms above her head and pressed flat against the cushion as he looms over her.

“The meanest. But you know what?” He places a small peck on each corner of her mouth, then her lips. “I will still make you your goddamn cheese toast.”

“I knew you loved me,” she says, and then curls two fingers around the chain that dangles around his neck and pulls him into a kiss. Long and deep and intense; legs wrapping around his waist and her ankles locking together at the small of his back.

He grins down at her. “So is this a yes to having sex BEFORE cheese toast and ice cream?”

“It’s a promise to have sex with you AFTER cheese toast and ice cream.”

“Don't do me any favours,” he grumbles playfully, kissing her a final time before reaching around to pry her ankles apart. “You know….” he grimaces at the stiffness in the small of his back as he stands. “...you’re damn lucky you’re so cute. That I love you as much as I do.”

“Yes. Yes I am,” she agrees, and slides off the couch and follows him through the living and dining rooms and into the kitchen. Lending a hand by gathering bowls and spoons from the drainboard next to the sink; carrying them to the island and then perching on the edge of one of the barstools. “They’re all asleep? All the beasts?”

“Every last one. Even Millie and Alannah crashed earlier than usual. That’s a nice change; none of their bloody laughing and raiding the fridge and waking me up at three am.”

“We’re going to have to think about where she is going to go when we get back home. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to keep those two in the same room. I would like to have some semblance of sleep. All the square footage we added and all the rooms we made, and suddenly there is no room at the inn.”

“Could always clean out the garage and make another bedroom in there. It’s only going to be temporary, yeah? She’s not staying with us forever. I hope. I love the kid, but…”

“What about the granny flat? We added one above the new gym but it hasn’t been used yet. Could put her in there.”

“She’s eleven. We are NOT giving an eleven year old her own apartment.”

“What about the den? Downstairs. It WAS a guest room at one point in time. That’s where you stayed. After Dhaka Part Two.”

“I kind of already told Tanner he could use that for his science experiments.” He gives her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“We could always put Brookie in with Addie. I’d say the other way around, but Addie will not give up her princess room. For ANYONE. I don’t even want to attempt trying to convince her to. Brookie won’t give a shit. She’s not attached to things like Addie is. She’d sleep out on the hammock every night if we let her.”

“She’d also do anything for Addie. She told me that Peanut’s her best friend. That that’s why she even agreed to tag along to the American Girl thing. Because Addie is her bestie and she asked Brookie to go with her.”

“One upside to having them close together. Friends for life. Unless one of them turns into a total dick head and completely ruins things.”

“I highly doubt either of our girls are going to turn into ‘he who shall not be named’. Things were always toxic when you were growing up. Our kids aren’t in that same kind of environment. We’re making damn sure of it. We aren’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but…”

“But we aren’t totally fucking up our children. We’re actually giving them a good home. A healthy one. Which is kind of surprising considering most behaviour is learned and neither of us grew up with the healthiest of parent child relationships.”

“We just went the opposite way. Instead of turning out like what we knew, we made sure we didn’t.”

“A lot of people aren’t that lucky, you know. A lot fall into the same patterns. Repeat the same mistakes.”

“Well we aren’t a lot of people, are we. I think we’ve shown that a time or two.”

“Do you remember what Gaspar said? About how two broken people can’t come together and make a whole?”

Tyler frowns. “I try NOT to remember anything he said.”

“He said that they’d only make things worse. Make EACH OTHER worse. I like to think he was wrong.”

“He was wrong about a lot of things. Not just that. Take it from the source, babe. Don’t take anything he said to heart.”

“He seemed a little too invested in what was going on between us. What was it to him? What did it matter whether we were hooking up or not?”

“He was just worried I’d get distracted. That I’d let my feelings take over and forget everything else.”

“More like he was worried your dick would run the show. Not your head. And that would be dangerous.”

“Something like that.”

Popping two pieces of bread into the toaster, he pushes down the level and then turns his back towards it; facing his wife as he leans back against the counter. He’ll never tell her the whole truth; Gaspar attempting to convince him that she was simply using him as a way out of Dhaka. That ‘putting out’, showering a profoundly damaged and lonely man with affection and want, and promising an attempt at a future would guarantee her his full attention ; that he’d stop at nothing to make sure she survived the ordeal. Even before Gaspar had shown all his cards and brought up the ten million dollar deal, Tyler hadn’t believed a word of what he was saying. He hadn’t been in that cramped and squalid hotel room. He didn’t hear the deep and intense conversations that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning; the confessions made and the fears talked about and the tears shed. It hadn’t been just sex. A connection had been made and a foundation laid down. Wrong place, wrong time. Perhaps a little too quick by society’s standards. But it had been nothing like Tyler had ever experienced. And he’d felt no need to either explain that to Gaspar, or defend it.

“Did he say anything to you? About me?”

“Other than he thought I was thinking with the wrong head? No. Not a damn thing.”

“Just the offer.”

Tyler nods.

“He didn’t say anything about me? Even leading up to that? Seems weird. That he’d just bring the offer up out of nowhere.”

“What does it matter? It’s almost thirteen years ago. Why are we even talking about it? About HIM? None of that should matter anymore.

“Just some things made me think about it. Shit that he said to me. When he cornered me in the upstairs. I don’t know what brought it up. Sometimes it happens; it hits me out of nowhere. But you’re right…” She sighs heavily and manages a smile. “...it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I know it makes you a little testy. Even now. What he did.”

“He’s dead. That’s what he deserved. Makes no sense to go back and dig him up.”

“It doesn’t,” she agrees, and then thankfully changes the subject. “You know, I really need to get my shit together. We go back home in five days and I have done nothing to prepare for it. I’m usually so far ahead of the game by now. Do you realize how much has to be packed away? Things I need to box up and have shipped because we won’t be able to take everything on the plane?”

“Do you realize you’re not the only adult in the house and there’s someone fully prepared to help out? WE have a lot to do. Not just you. We’ll start today.”

“You have your little shopping trip with Desi today,” she reminds him. “No way are you skipping out on that. He’s been going on and on about it for DAYS. He will legit ugly cry if you bail on him.”

“Then we start when I get back. Doubt I’ll be gone that long. You’ve gone shopping with me. In and out in half an hour.”

“You are in for a rude awakening. Going shopping with Desi is a whole other experience in itself. That man LOVES his fashion and his bling and he doesn’t go home until he’s exhausted every square inch of his favourite stores. Takes him half an hour just to decide what side of the store to start on first.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“He wants to play dress up with you. Use you as his little doll. He sees the potential. He’s going to get you into some three thousand dollar suits and some skinny jeans and…”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I wear skinny jeans. What is wrong with the way I dress?”

“Nothing. I don’t care what you wear. You look good in whatever you put on. That being said, I prefer when you’re taking your clothes OFF…”

“I don’t want to be his little plaything. His science experiment. Why can’t I just be who I am? Why do I have to change? As long as you’re not complaining…”

“Like I said, I don’t care what you wear. You always look good. But Desi wants to do this with you. He wants to dress you up and make you look good. Fashionable. He wants to see you in some Huge Boss and some Gucci and some Tom Ford.”

“I’m more comfortable in shit from Target.”

“Just humour him. He’s got amazing fashion sense. It won’t hurt to have a few of Desi’s staples and favourites in your closet. And personally? I’d kill to see you in a pair of skinny jeans. They’d make your ass look incredible. Or even more incredible than it already is. Not to mention you’ve got those crazy, long ass legs.”

“Why don’t you just cut to the chase and say you want me to buy a pair? Because if you want me to…”

“Nope. Has to be your decision. I’m not telling you what to do. But I will say the thought of you in skinny jeans? Totally makes me hot for you. Hotter than you usually make me, And that’s pretty damn hot.”

He stares at her pointedly, then returns to spreading thick layers of Cheese Whiz on two pieces of toast.

“Just saying. They would. Did I not go out and buy TWO sexy outfits for you? To wear on New Year's Eve? Not just one, babe. TWO. And believe me, they are way out of my comfort zone. But it’s what you wanted so I went and found ones I thought you’d find incredibly hot. And just might make you self combust in record time.”

“I’m not supposed to do that until AFTER I get you out of the outfits.”

“You said sexy, so I got sexy. And think about it. Think about how hot you make me on a regular basis. Extremely hot, right? So if I say you in skinny jeans would make me even MORE hot…”

“So if I put them on whenever I want sex, I’ll immediately get it?”

Esme nods. “More than likely.”

“And if I want to add to my mile high club points, I just need to wear them on the plane?”

“If your children aren’t there, yup.”

“Fine.” He sets the plate of toast down in front of her. “I’ll get the damn skinny jeans. But I don’t ever want to hear you say I never do anything nice for you.”

“I never say that to begin with, so…” she tilts her face up towards him, hand on his hip as he leans down to peck her lips.

She never tires of it. The random embraces; wrapping his arms around her from behind while she stands at the stove or the washing machine or while standing in front of the bathroom sink brushing her teeth. Curling an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly into his side during their walks on the beach or always taking her hand while strolling through town. The little unexpected kisses; placed up on her temples or cheeks or the corners of her mouth or dropped onto the top of her head. Even at the dinner table or while sitting on the couch he always finds a way to maintain physical contact; sides of thighs touching or a foot resting against hers, shoulders or elbows lightly pressed together. It had taken years for him to open up to both accepting and giving affection; a childhood wracked with horrendous abuse and no love shown, a first marriage whose novelty had worn off quick and gone cold and stale, years building up walls around his heart to avoid connecting with anyone and therefore preventing the brutal sting of loss.

Out of nowhere it had all come together, and the change in him was like night and day. He didn’t initially stiffen up when embraced and became quick with the touches and the hugs and the kisses. Suddenly comfortable with both verbal and physical expressions of adoration and love. Now she cherishes every single moment of it. Knowing how far he’s come and how hard he’s had to work; so willing to sacrifice personal comfort to be the kind of man he felt she wanted, needed, AND deserved.

“You’re kinda cute, you know that,” she comments, biting into a slice of toast as she watches him; the way the muscles in his arms bulge and twist with even the simple task of scooping ice cream. It never gets old. Seeing the way his body moves and how it feels under her fingertips; hard muscle and smooth skin that boosts a handful of scars of various shapes and sizes.

He casts a grin over his shoulder. “Just kinda?”

“Very cute,” she declares. “And hot. And sexy. And oh so fuckable.”

“All those things rolled into one, huh?”

“You’re quite the catch,” she says, leaning back against him when he stands behind her stool; tilting her head back and smiling up at him as he reaches past her body to set the bowls on the counter. “I lucked out. I knew you had potential. The day I met you in your little shack. I knew a good thing when I saw it.”

“I was half in the bag and feeling pretty damn good from Oxy. Hardly a good thing.”

“Please, you looked so freaking hot. With that shirt tight around your arms and your kick ass haircut and your blue eyes and your nice butt. You know what was REALLY sexy? When your hair would fall across your forehead. That did funny things to my insides.”

“Just back then or…?”

“Still does it to me even now.” She reaches up to push the wayward tresses off her forehead, smiling when he presses a line of kisses down the bridge of her nose. “And I don’t care what you say. You ARE cute. We’re going to forever agree to disagree on this one, But I did, you know. See the potential in you.”

“Let me guess. It was all in my eyes?”

“And your smile. The way you smiled at me was...I don’t know...different. Than the way anyone else ever smiled at me.”

He sidles up beside her, snagging one of the spoons and digging into his ice cream. “Something tells me you’ve had a lot of guys smile at you.”

“Not a lot. A few. But none of them have ever smiled at me the way you do.”

“That’s because they don’t love you. I do.”

“You didn’t love me when you first smiled at me. It was still a different kind of smile.”

“That was a ‘damn she’s cute, I wouldn’t mind banging her’ smile.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“What? You WERE cute. In those little shorts and that tank top and your piercings and your ink. I was impressed. And for the record, I DID want to bang you. Right away. You were fresh meat.”

“Oh my god,” she rolls her eyes and tears a piece of toast off with her teeth.

“You were. I’d never seen you before. You just showed up on my doorstep. Like this little present being delivered just for me. And I hadn’t sex in four months, so….”

“Poor baby. My heart bleeds for you.”

“You were a new face, had a wicked little body on you, a tongue ring. Is it any wonder why I wanted to rail you?”

“That’s all I was to you. Fresh meat. A new piece of ass.”

“At first. But then I got to know you and everything changed. Very quickly, I might add.”

“It was rather quick,” Esme admits. “Do you ever regret it? How quickly it DID happen?”

“What guy in their right mind is going to regret banging you?”

“I don’t mean the sex. I mean everything else. The whole quiet stuff afterwards. The cuddling and…”

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight. You cuddled up to me.”

“Tyler, give it a rest. It’s been twelve and a half years. I’ve known for a long time that you actually enjoy cuddling. And you’re a master at it. You enjoyed it that first night. You hung back a bit, but you gave in pretty quick.”

“I don’t know…” he shrugs, and a slight blush creeps into his cheeks and the tips of ears. “...I was comfortable with you. It felt...nice.”

“Are you blushing? You are! Baby…” she stands on the bottom rung of the stool and presses a kiss to his temple. “...you’re so freaking adorable.”

He frowns, gently using his elbow to push her away. “Stop it.”

“Blushing. With your wife. Who you’ve known for more than a decade. Who is the last person you should get embarrassed in front of.”

“Esme…”

“Why would you be embarrassed? Tae…” she nuzzles his cheek with the tip of her nose, then sits back down on the stool. “...God I love you.”

“I don’t like talking about this stuff. The...I don’t know...emotional stuff. I can talk about sex all day, every day. But THAT? The other stuff that went down between us?”

“That other stuff was amazing and beautiful. And totally not what I expected from you. That’s what made it so great. This big, muscly, tattooed and scarred up mercenary being so cuddly and spilling his guts and crying to me and…”

“Oh fuck…” he groans. “....can we not do this? Talk about this stuff? Please?”

“I’m just saying that the after stuff? That was pretty amazing too. And you don’t need to be embarrassed about it. I mean, you ended up marrying the person you did all that stuff with. You’ve had kids with her. Seven of them. You don’t have to be embarrassed about that stuff. About anything, actually.”

“It’s just not who I am. Even now. I don’t talk about that stuff. I’m not comfortable with it.”

“Even with me?”

“It’s nothing to do with you. I just get..I don’t know...weirded out. I liked it, alright. Being like that with you. It had been a long time since I’d done anything even remotely like that. And it felt good. It felt right. YOU felt right.”

“Strange, huh? Totally wrong place, totally wrong time. But it felt so good.”

“It did,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.. “And I don’t regret a damn thing about it. About you. About us.”

Smiling, she curls an arm around his waist and leans into him; hand repeatedly stroking his lower back as she takes turns delving into her ice cream and enjoying the cheese toast. The silence between them has never been awkward; neither ever feeling the need to fill the minutes with mindless chit chat. It’s companionable and it’s relaxing; the close proximity of their bodies and their familiar smells is its own form of intimacy. It’s the comfortableness that exists between two people that have seen each other at every stage of their lives. The lowest of the lowest and the highest of the highs . Grieving AND celebrating. Bloodied, battered and broken and in near perfect health. Who’ve experienced the miracle of birth and the devastation of loss. Who had seen each other at their very worst right at the start, yet still chose one another. And STILL keep choosing each other. Every day. Regardless of the pain and obstacles thrown in their direction.

*****

“It’s weird that Riley and Sheana left so soon after dinner,” Esme breaks the silence, pushing her empty plate away; using the spoon to swirl now melting ice cream around in the bowl. “I thought they’d stay longer. They usually do.”

“Probably just tired. It’s a long flight. Sometimes we handle it well, other times we feel like complete and utter shit for a couple days.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad they decided to stay at a hotel this time? I love my sister. And Shaena. Dearly. But I can not handle any more extra people in this house. Not when we’ve got so much to do and Ovi’s wedding is right around the corner. House guests are the last thing I need to be dealing with.”

“I was thinking I’m more glad they chose the hotel because I didn’t want to hear them getting busy. Weird, considering the kind of porn I used to watch. When I was single and having to tend to my own business all the time.”

“Oh please. You probably had all kinds of Sheilas on speed dial. And USED to watch? You STILL watch that stuff.”

“I’ll have you know, that I haven’t watched any that doesn’t involve me and you….or just you...in years. Why do I need to? I’m married to a goddess. Why watch fake shit when I watch the real stuff? It’s got the most beautiful girl in the world in it. The woman I love. What’s hotter than that?”

‘“You have issues, you know that?”

“If my issue is that I love and lust you, then yeah. I guess I do. I DO have issues. And trust me, babe. Those videos? Fucking amazing. Gets the job done. In record time.”

“Oh God,” Esme groans. “I do NOT need to hear this.”

He leans into her, playfully nudging her with his elbow. “Do you want to watch them with me? Tonight? Get you in the mood?”

“You think that’s what it takes for me to get in the mood?”

“No. I know it doesn’t take much for me to get you there. It would just be really hot. Watching them with you. Do something nice for me.”

“I do plenty of nice things for you. Who went from once a year butt stuff to near daily?”

“But you like that though. That’s why you give it up more. Just watch it with me. Just one of them. And then we’ll make another one. On New Year's Eve.”

Sighing heavily, she shakes her head. “Remind me again why I married you?”

“Because I dick you down like no one else ever has. And because of my eyes. And my butt. Probably my voice too.”

“The whole trifecta. Eyes, butt, voice.”

“And because you love me,” he adds, and lightly and teasingly ruffles her hair. “That’s the main reason.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I DO love you. Despite what’s in my best interests. And you’re right; Shaena and Riley DO get a little...wild.”

“And loud. Very loud.”

“You realize we do too, right? That we can be insanely loud.”

“No. YOU can be insanely loud. You’re the loud one.”

“Yeah, you’re the groaner and the growler and the swearer, I forgot.” She spoons the remains of the ice cream into her mouth. “I still think they left way too early. Totally uncharacteristic of them. Did everything go okay? When you talked to her?”

“Best as can be expected, I guess.”

“You totally lost your shit on her, didn’t you.”

“Did you hear me yelling?” He gathers up the empty bowls and carries them to the sink. “Throwing shit around?”

“You long ago mastered the art of losing your shit WITHOUT doing any of that.” She swivels her seat around; watching as he rinses the dishes and cutlery and then loads them into the dishwasher. “Tyler James…”

Smirking, he dries his palms on the thighs of his shorts. “Esme Michelle…”

“You did, didn’t you? Lost it.”

“I may have been a little harsh. No more than she was.”

“Riley harsh? Never.”

Leaning back against the dishwasher, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I said what I needed to say.”

“Which was?”

“I told her that you ‘fessed up. About the whole fake girls weekend thing. And I said I was pissed. That she didn’t call me. Let me know what was going on. That I had a right to know that my wife was in a crisis.”

“I wasn’t in a crisis. I was…”

“I had a right to know,” he forcibly repeats. “My wife calls her sister and says she wants to kill herself? That is definitely something I should have been told.”

“She only kept it quiet because I asked her to. I made her promise not to tell you. I was worried; I didn’t want you going off the deep end hearing something like that. I didn’t want you spiralling because I was.”

“You think I’m THAT weak? That I couldn’t handle hearing that?”

“I don’t think you’re weak at all. I’ve never thought that. You’re the strongest person I know. In every possible way. But I didn’t want to put something else on you. You were away on job. You needed to stay focused on it. It was your priority.”

“YOU’RE my priority,” he retorts. “ There’s not a job in this world that could EVER be more important. In fact, other than my kids? NOTHING is more important than you. You never should have asked Riley to lie for you. You shouldn’t have put that on her. That wasn’t fair to her.”

“I know,” Esme admits. “But I wasn’t exactly in my right mind, was I. And at that time, keeping it from you seemed like the best thing. For everyone. I didn’t want to add more to your plate. The business was just starting to really take off and things were crazy busy and you had a lot going on. I didn’t want to give you more to deal with. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You’re my wife. You could never be a burden. If you’d called me, I would have gotten on the next plane home. I would have talked you down and got you off that ledge and I would have come back to Australia. You know I would have.”

“I do know you would have. Which is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want all that extra on you. You were busy and…”

“I am never too busy when it comes to my family,” he interjects. “You are the most important thing in my life. Nothing else comes close. And I know you think you need to protect me, but I am more than capable of handling things like this. When I have I not stepped up? When I have not shoved my own shit aside to take care of you? When have I not been there when you needed me?”

“You’ve always stepped up. You’ve always put everything aside for me. I’m not arguing that. I’m not saying you wouldn’t have come home or that you wouldn’t have dropped everything to get back to me. I KNOW you would have. But I wasn’t in my right mind. It was telling me I needed to keep it from you. For all the reasons I’ve told you over and over again. It wasn’t to hurt you, Tyler. I would never, EVER, hurt you.”

“Well it did hurt,” he confesses. “A lot. The fact you turned to her instead of me.”

“She was right next door. You were thousands of miles away,” Esme attempts to reason. “I needed help right there and then.”

“And I would have helped you. If you’d called. But you didn’t. You didn’t even give me the chance.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I was scared and I was panicking and I just acted in the moment. That’s it. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I wasn’t thinking ‘hey, let’s find a way to hurt Tyler’s feelings’. Because I would never do that and you know it.”

“She should have called me. You might not have been in your right mind, but she was. And she should have gotten a hold of me. That’s what I told her.”

“And what did she say?”

“That she did what her sister asked. That that’s where her loyalty lies. With you. And I told her that you being my wife and the mother of my kids totally trumps the relationship she has with you. What if you’d never gotten a hold of her? What if that pushed you right over the edge and you had done something?”

“I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I was freaking out and my brain was all messed up. I wasn’t thinking rationally.”

“One of our kids would have found you. And I can’t stop thinking about that. The fact you wouldn’t have been around in the morning and one of them would have went looking for you and they would have found you. Do you know what that would have done to them? Seeing that? That’s your kids. MY kids.”

“What do you want me to say, Tyler? I’ve already said I was sorry. Do you want to say it a million times more? Because I will. Yeah, I should have called. And when I WAS in the right frame of mind again, I realized how badly I fucked up. Because in the end, it was you that I wanted. It was you I wanted taking care of me. Not Riley. Not some stupid psychiatric hospital. YOU.”

“I can’t pretend that it didn’t bother me. That it didn’t hurt. The fact you didn’t trust me with it. With you.”

“You have that right. To be hurt. And I’m sorry. Because that is NOT what I meant to do. I would never pick anyone over you. EVER. And I’m sorry I did. If I could go back, I’d do everything differently. But I can’t. And I know you’re hurt and you’re pissed and you probably hate me right now…”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I love you. Which is I wanted to be the one to take care of you. Because I DO love you. We’re supposed to be a team, Esme. We’re supposed to be in this together. And sometimes….I don’t know...sometimes I don’t think you’re as invested in that part of things as I am.”

“That’s not fair. I have given everything to you. Right from the beginning. I was willing to give up my life for you. On that bridge. I gave up my family. Any friends I had. I moved to a country on the other side of the world. I started a whole new existence. For you.”

“I didn’t hold a gun to your head,” he reminds her. “ You made the decisions you did on your own.”

“Because I was in love with you. Because I wanted to be with you. But I still gave everything up. And I feel like I keep giving and giving and giving. And I’m scared one day there’s going to be nothing left to give. Then what? I won’t be of any use to you. Or our kids. “

“So somehow it’s my fault? That you keep giving and giving? Like you’re the only one that’s being doing that? I gave up things too. Most of them I needed to. The booze, the Oxy, the living in some crappy little shack in the outback. Those needed to go. But I also gave up everything I knew for you. I walked away from the job. TWICE. And I know I got sucked back in…”

“It wasn’t your fault. You had no control over that.”

“...but I started that business for you. Because you didn’t want me going out there anymore. You didn’t want me getting my hands dirty. Putting myself in the fire.”

“Do you blame me? Tyler, you have a wife. You have SEVEN kids! Why would you risk yourself when you have so much to lose? Especially when you’re not a hundred percent. You know damn well you’re not where you were thirteen years ago. You’ve admitted that yourself. Why would you go out there under those circumstances? Leave your family? People who love you? Why would you…?”

“Because I’m a selfish bastard, Esme. Just like everyone says I am. Have you ever thought maybe they’re right? That I really AM that person?”

“You’re not. You’re selfless, if anything. You’re not who they say you are. You never have been. Where is this coming from? I thought we were talking about Riley? How did it turn into being about us? Into a fight? How…?”

“I’m not trying to fight with you. I’m not.”

She valiantly holds back a flood of tears. “It sure as hell feels like you are.”

He finally approaches her. Crossing the room in two long strides and gathering her in his embrace; one hand resting on the small of her back and the other buried in her hair. “I’m sorry.” Gentle pressure draws her head into his chest; fingertips softly massaging her scalp. “I didn’t mean to take shit out on you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. But I was angry. I still am. More at her than you. You weren’t thinking right. She was. She knew better.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she turns her teary face up towards him. “She was just doing what I asked. And at the time it seemed like the right thing. I’d give anything to go back and do things differently.”

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

“I know I hurt you. I never meant to. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“So am I. For making you cry. I fucking HATE when you cry.”

“I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Crying. I think it’s my hormones. Oh God..." she chews anxiously on her bottom lip. "...maybe I’m starting menopause.”

“Or maybe you’re just married to a humongous asshole.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re not THAT big of an asshole.”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“You are a bit of one. You know you are. So don’t look at me like that.”

“Yet here you are,” he uses the front of his muscle to clear the tears off her cheeks and wipe her runny nose. “Twelve and a half years later. Putting up with it.”

“The sex is good. Really good. Really, really, REALLY good.”

“I knew it. Just using me for my body. And my dick.”

“That’s it,” she sniffles. “That’s all it’s ever been about. Your body and your penis.”

“You know, I’m just enough in love with you to accept that. And put up with it.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. I love you more and more every day. Please tell me you never doubt that.”

“I don’t,” he assures her, then gently cradles her face in his palms and presses a tender kiss to her lips. “And I never will.”

[traumatized-motherfuckers]

CPTSD and Core Beliefs (Your lens, built on traumatic fuckery)

Alright, so you know I have this Patreon thing that I try to make worth your while in return for your economical help. One of the benefits is the good ole’ monthly ask me anything. And I love it. Because the questions are great. And they push me to dig into topics that I was procrastinating. This month’s AMA is a particularly good one! A question that needs to be addressed, anyways. So it’s perfect. Let’s aim for two birds with one stone.

Our good friend Cassie - you know her by now - asks, how do you identify core beliefs and start to change them? Which is a very simple and very complicated question.

  So, to take a step backwards, what she talkin’ bout?

  Well, one of the internal issues that complex trauma sufferers have to rectify is their belief system. Between our core beliefs and our inner critic, we have a lot going on in between our ears to keep us downtrodden and destitute.

  We’re talking about what I call Fucked Up Core Beliefs here… which are your trauma-born core beliefs. Again, called FUCBs because when you discover them, you’ll likely whisper to yourself, “wow, that’s actually really fucked up.” These sentiments are like the lenses that you surgically stitched onto your face several decades ago in response to your upbringing, as your little mammal brain tried to understand its place in the global hierarchy and how to be chill about it.

 The framework you built from your early development and beyond, that all information still filters through today - both on the way in and on the way out of your head. The words that stream through your brain consciously or subconsciously to shape the ways you appraise… everything. Yourself, your life, your past, your future, other people, and everything that happens in between.

  So, essentially, talking about the ways you interpret your existence and the collected pool of knowledge from where you make decisions, and therefore the ways you act. If this is starting to sound like a big deal - it is!

But it don’t come with a big flashing sign. The Challenge

These beliefs are challenging to figure out because:

  One, they were adapted early on in your life in an effort to understand the circumstances around you or directly downloaded from the sentiments expressed in your environment. When you were first establishing your perspective of the universe and trying to figure out how to navigate it based on the clues presented.

  Plus, the harder part is… because of the early adoption, you’ve already accepted the idea for so long that it doesn’t even seem like a “belief” to you - you’re not choosing it and it’s probably not apparent to you - it’s just the secret narrative running in your head that corrupts all later data. Not cognitive thoughts that you’re directing on purpose. You probably don’t have recollections of the time before you believed such and such to question what you believe - these ideas are solidified in your head with as much certainty as the alphabet.

  So, you might believe you’re a worthless piece of shit as a function of the neglect and abuse you experienced, a way to explain the mistreatment to yourself from a young age… OR you might believe you’re a worthless piece of shit because mom, dad, sister, and society directly told you so. But either way, many years down the line, it’s difficult to pinpoint either of these originating factors as memories fade or to even question the validity of the thought… or to even notice the thought.

  Two, if your family of origin was always repeating the same sort of thoughts and you later associate with people who make you comfortable to be around (i.e. probably have some similar views of the world), you have nothing to compare your beliefs to.

  Your environment teaches you what’s normal. There’s no reference for what is and isn’t healthy, fair, or functional if everyone is drinking the same kool aid. And, unfortunately, in traumatic environments, folks seem to congregate around the fucked up beliefs to protect them with a mutual unspoken agreement. Accept the accepted narrative of the group or be outcast. The same story is replayed on repeat from all ends of your social circle, so why would you even begin to think there’s another way to look at things?

So, if mom, dad, cousin, uncle, grandma, neighbor, peer, teacher, and media are all telling you the same reality exists, how would you ever even begin to have the wherewithal to think otherwise? The thought probably never crosses your mind. The sky is blue, grass is green, and the world is a miserable place where everyone is trying to take advantage of you.

  Three, again, I cannot over-express how insidious, subtle, and generalized these things can be. Fucked up core beliefs affect how you see and process everything. Again, like lenses or an instagram filter permanently applied to your corneas. So, there’s not necessarily one life-effect linked to one-FUCB for easy detection or one event that will cause a clear-as-day defined belief to come shooting to the top of the pile. More like, you very slowly realize you have an unhealthy view or twenty about yourself and the world that have sorrrrrtof impacted every single area of your life now that you spend years considering it.

  Thinking you’re a worthless piece of shit, for instance, has led to you taking low-level jobs with chaotic schedules, living with an abusive partner, and settling for living in the same environment with the same behavioral patterns that you’ve known your entire life. It’s also allowed you to give up exercise, eating right, staying sober, and trying to make any life-improvements. Why bother spit polishing shit? And here you are, wondering why you feel awful about yourself and don’t enjoy anything you’ve created in your life.

  But. It’s not that simple to sort out, or else we would have done it already. You probably haven’t ever purposely considered how commonly this impression is operating below the surface of your actions. Realizing that the belief “I’m a worthless piece of shit who deserves nothing” and trying to change it would be like pulling out the wrong Janga block - everything it has been supporting suddenly comes tumbling down and you’re left with a real fucking mess to rebuild from the bottom up. And, to top it all off, no one ever even taught you how to create a sturdier structure in the first place.

  Fourthly, from some of my own learnings, I’ve come to the conclusion that the core belief, itself, doesn’t even have to present itself at any point to be making a difference in your life. They are so deeply ingrained in my brain that my thought center just naturally uses them as a jumping off point, without even directly touching on the words that might ping my brain as unusual. Just like we can subtly detect risks in our environment that set off our warning bells without ever creating a conscious thought to go with the arousal, I feel like I can apply a core belief to my world without ever noticing the accompanying stream of consciousness.

Sometimes I feel like fucked up core beliefs have become so accepted over time that they’re feelings more than cognitions. As if they’ve become so reflexive through repetition that you have muscle memory - an intuitive response that bypasses your logical brain recognition threshold and jumpstarts shittily-related thoughts… and those will actually register on your thinking scale. But at that point, you accept the novel-feeling thought and never note that it was actually spawned by a very old recording.

  Which is to say, you might have to work on identifying your fucked up core feelings before you can get to the thought deeply buried underneath. Taking a meta break from the episode to tell you, I’ve never thought about that so thoroughly before. But Fucked Up Core Feelings definitely sounds like a solid description of my world. I guess we also have FUCFs to go with our FUCBs from now on. Anyways.

  With all of this in mind, I’m sure you can start to see why these fucked up core beliefs are a big problem. Hell, if you’ve listened to this podcast for more than a few episodes, you’ve definitely heard that I’m still challenged by my own. Like, when I say that I’m freaking out because no one should listen to me and I feel like an imposter - I believe that I’m not good enough to share information with people. That I’m too flawed to even express myself. This is a problem for, say, podcasting. Or, living. And I have to fight it all the time.

  Long story short.

  Your core beliefs are sneaky, they can be comprehensive, and they are hardwired into your brain as your default system for analyzing everything on the planet. Again, kind of like looking for goggles strapped to your face, but in reality you had lasik surgery about 30 years ago.

  So, if you aren’t constantly on the lookout for core beliefs and actively working against your pre-programmed ways of assessing yourself and the world around you… they will get out of control, cause a fair amount of avoidance and defeat, and set you back several steps in your mental health management… plus, potentially your entire life, if you make any big decisions out of this unhealthy mindset. Which you will, because that’s how the brain works. I’m almost certain that you have some experience with this already.

If you ever think things like: The world is a dangerous placePeople are cruelI’m not good enough I’m not smart enoughI’m not enoughI’m brokenOther people don’t like meThere’s something wrong with my personalityI’m not allowed to… (live like others, have nice things, be happy)I’m not one of those people who… (has money, has good luck, gets what they want)Shit is just harder for meNothing ever works outLife is always hardI can’t.

Then you’ve had some fucked up core beliefs floating around in your head.

 These are some super broad ones for the sake of demonstration, so don’t disregard highly specific beliefs that might relate to your particular circumstances or upbringing.

  If you haven’t ever noticed yourself thinking these big shitty picture things… check again in all your deepest nooks and crannies. I think a lot of us TMFRs operate from some version of the narratives above - plus, much worse. Like I keep saying, these beliefs might not be in your conscious thoughts, so much as they’re directing the show from behind the curtain.

How do we pull it back? Discover the beliefs ........

Keep reading or listen up at t-mfrs.com

https://www.t-mfrs.com/podcast/episode/532f2b1c/core-beliefs

[zorya-wellness]

Are Tarot Cards Witchcraft, Magic or Evil? Understanding How Does A Tarot Reading Work

Tarot cards seem to be surrounded by the atmosphere of mysticism and often in relation to the “dark” occult practices.

Some claim that trying to find out the future is bad luck or sinful and will certainly bring only misfortunes.  

The myth that Tarot (or Runes) are the elements of Witchcraft or “dark” Magic is being shaped by the movie industry, video games and books of a particular genre.

My partner recently was playing this video game called Cyberpunk and mentioned that Tarot cards were part of his quest series. A woman that was “reading cards” in the game looked all mysterious and had those dark “witchy” vibes.

As a result of the game popularity, there is even Cyberpunk Tarot deck now available for sale which has only 22 cards and naturally, has nothing to do with Tarot.

The reason I bring this up is because when we look at the scenes where Tarot cards are used, we see evil witches that gather to perform some kind of a Satanic Ritual or curse someone and, of course, they have a Tarot cards deck, a crystal ball and Runes handy.

In this Blog post I will try to look at Tarot cards from all the different angles.

We will look at Tarot from the view of occultism, psychology and religion. Let’s break it all down.

What the Tarot Cards Really Are?

A simple explanation is that Tarot is a tool for divination. But, of course, Tarot is much more than that.

Tarot is a tool for analysis of a situation, person or action.

Tarot is a work with the subconscious layers and shadow sides, uncovering deepest desires, fears and intentions.

It doesn’t matter what you believe in, the essence of Tarot is taking the energy from a person you are reading cards for to create the best future for them.

Tarot reader is merely a guide. You can call Tarot a weak energy vampire that takes a bit of your energy to transform it into information and give you an answer.

The correct work with Tarot is based on the reader’s ability to help you choose the path that is right and best for you given all current circumstances.

Is Tarot A Form of Black Magic or Witchcraft?

What Is the Difference Between A Ritual Work Divination?

Tarot reading works by the means of receiving information from the Source through the cards and uncoding this information to a client.

It has absolutely nothing to do with ceremonial Magic or any kind of Ritual work.

A ritual is done to shape the reality the way you want to see it. You are influencing an event or a person. And in this post, we only cover the nature of the Ritual working briefly, just so that you understand what is behind the words “Ritual” and “Witchcraft.”

Tarot does not intervene or influence a person, forcing them to do something they may not want to do. It completely allows for the Free Will to be the only natural way of human experiences.

Tarot gives you the information you otherwise may miss or not see, sometimes quite willingly, to make the right choice. This is why sometimes clients say things like: “Well, this is what I expected” or “I have known this all along.” This is because the answers are within us and a Tarot Reader is only guiding you to see them.

Can Tarot Be Used for Ritual or Magical Work?

I hope you can see that this is a completely different question.

Tarot can and is sometimes used as the Ritual tool. It can be a part of spell casing, for good and for bad. When Tarot is used for evil intentions, it is not because Tarot itself is evil but because people misuse it for their nasty intentions.

And the problem is in people, not the cards.

If Tarot Is Not Magic, Where Do Tarot Readers Get the Information From?

There is different information circulating around with regards to “Where Tarot Readers get their answers from?”

Some believe that the source is Akashic Records which is considered to be a universal information “storage”, so to speak, that has a record of all the thoughts, emotions, words and also events.

But those who claim the existence of such records seem to deny the existence of divination. For example, Vadim Zeland, the creator of Transurfing of Reality, states that divination does not exist because there is way too many “paths” and “variations” of future events to be able to predict them.

However, here comes my long-standing point about the different between divination and fortune telling and I briefly touched on this in my Blog Post “What Questions Tarot Can and Cannot Answer”. And this is where people like Vadim Zeland, who by the way created his own “Tarot” despite claiming its limited use, are wrong.

RELATED POSTS: What TAROT CARDS CAN and CANNOT TELL. Questions to ask during a Tarot reading

Tarot does not tell you what you are going to have for lunch tomorrow or give you a straight yes/no answer.

Tarot reviews those possible paths and variations of events and helps you make the RIGHT CHOICE.

Tarot helps you to go to your subconscious mind and from there pull the information about yourself to help you understand what internal challenges are preventing you from growing and becoming, from letting go of the past and from working on your future.

"The Good” In Tarot Cards. Tarot as A Tool for Psychoanalysis.

If you think about it, people do many different things on a daily basis to learn more about themselves. They go to see a psychologist to resolve their personal matters and figure out the roots of their anxiety, fears and phobias.

People try to understand the meaning of their dreams and see the signs of communication from Spirit Guides and Angels.

Modern psychologists use cards, not only Tarot, during their sessions as the tool for a deep analysis and consulting.

Tarot can help a person uncover and understand some moments they were not able to connect with before mentally. These include hidden thoughts, desires and intentions.

Unlike Tarot readers, psychologists use cards for the most part to work on the ISSUES OF THE PAST, deeply analyzing it before making any prognosis or goals for the future.

How do psychologists view Tarot?

In this case, psychologists don’t even think about the “mysterious” aspects of Tarot or their connection to esotericism, paganism or occult, it is simply a tool for them to do their job better.

First and foremost, Tarot is used for symbolisms, associations and imagery.

This system helps a psychologist to connect the dots and figure out what is happening at the subconscious level of their patient. Tarot become a diagnostic method that at some situations becomes quite sufficient for a basic diagnostic.

Finally, Let’s Think TOGETHER. Are Tarot Cards A Sin?

Naturally, the answer to this question depends on your religion and what it says in the scriptures with regards to divination of any kind. But I trust that by the time you are reading this, you can make the right judgement yourself.

For the most part, Sin is a concept of JCI religions. And here we also have two categories of people to address.

If you strictly follow ALL the rules of your religion and live by them, then you shouldn’t seek an answer to this question in the Blog post of a Tarot reader, a witch or anyone who deals with magical and ritual workings.

You should address this question an official representative of your religion who is qualified to answer.

If you follow a religion, using it as a moral compass or it is a cultural part of your life, then the word “Sin” takes on a totally different meaning.

In this case, you need to assess what your religion means for you and what other rules, commandments or dogmas you have broken throughout your life. And if during those times you have at all considered the sinful nature of these acts.

For example, when you saw men cheating on their wives, a person drinking alcohol, lying or being jealous of your new IPhone, did you, even in your head, call them sinners?

Most people don’t think that printing a spiritual development book on their work printer is a sin, and yet it breaks the rules of the 6th Commandment.

Therefore, a factual sin is not a part of a religious-ethical category that is for the most part not used as a guide for our day-to-day actions.

It is rather a culturally created concepts of morals, about right or wrong, that shape the tendencies, and also change and evolve together with humanity.

Another example I want to mention is something you probably would not have even ever considered. And this is my beloved practice of Yoga.

Many of those who practice Yoga, being under the influence of the practices and travels, said they turned to Buddhism or Hinduism (both have Yoga as a part of their religion) for their spiritual and personal growth. And this is not normally being labelled as something sinful, even though looking at it factually, it is a change of Religion.

But quite conveniently, normally such person is described as a healthy and spiritual human being that enjoys travelling, sings Mantra, dresses up exotically, even doesn’t eat meat! What an example to all. A modern, soulful, educated and highly spiritual being. He is not a sinner, well, a hipster at the most.

I believe this will also answer the question “Is Tarot Evil?” because evil and sin go hand in hand with each other.

What is “good” and what is “bad” came from religious and philosophical teachings that are also subject to change based on the shifts, changes and revisions we are going through every day.

Should I not be afraid of Tarot then?

In my opinion, when going for a Tarot reading, you should be afraid not of committing a sin, but of your intentions and actions.

If you are asking a question about your own life, without getting a third party involved, (such as “What is happening in my best friend’s relationship with her boyfriend?) if your questions and life morals don’t contradict each other, then there is no need to be afraid of the consequences of the reading because there are none.

Let it be a reason for you to think what your life position is. What morals and principals do you follow?

If you take time to consider everything said above in this Blog post, you will understand that working on your future using Tarot is neither a sin or an evil. A Tarot reading will not bring you bad luck or misfortunes because it’s not on its own a magical tool.

Tarot is your guide to the better choices, better life and happier future. Use it wisely, use it to help others and don’t forget to always thank the Source.

[cpd5021]

How to Save a Life (2)

The first chapter was ridiculously long, so I tried to keep this one shorter. I ended up splitting it into chapters two and three because I couldn’t find an ending I liked without just abruptly ending it. This one is also full of angst, as most of this fic will be. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback I’ve received from this fic already, it means a lot!!! 

Chapter Two - Paralyzed

Where are my feelings,

I no longer feel things

     Three days. Three days since Voight had pulled us into his office, informing us that Gael had been released. Three days since I drove Vanessa to the warehouse neither of us should have been at. Three days since I heard the gunshot and watched the life drain from her eyes, holding her limp and bloody body in my arms, only relinquishing my grip when Jay pulled me away. I had let him loosen my hands, clutching desperately to her bloodstained clothing, had allowed him to pull me into a standing position and walk me away from her body, and had even let him drive me home. Not because I wanted to do any of those things, but because as I watched the light fade from her face everything inside me faded away as well. I had no will to fight, no desire to argue or push him away. A small part of me recognized that I needed him to do those things for me because I never would have accomplished them myself. But as he had led me up to my front door, looking more than ready to settle in at my house with no thought of leaving ever again, something inside me flickered just enough to send him away. He pushed at first, telling me he wasn’t leaving me alone, not like this, but I hadn’t budged. He left with the door slammed in his face and if I had had anything left in me, the sight of his face just before it shut would have broken me. But it was too late for that. I was already broken. 

    I had shuffled aimlessly into my entryway, briefly debating where I wanted to go next, before dragging myself up the stairs. Deciding to skip a much needed shower, necessary to wash the dried blood off that caked my exposed skin, I had simply stripped out of my clothes and climbed into bed. And that is where I have been ever since. But now it was Friday, the day of her funeral. A part of me considered not going. After all, her death was my fault. I had set in motion the events that led up to her getting shot and I didn’t think I was worthy of being there for her send off. I glanced over at my alarm clock, groaning when the red numbers only flashed 5am. I rolled back over, pulling a pillow over my head and hoping that I would never wake up. A pounding on my door downstairs was the next thing I heard and when I lifted the pillow back off my head I realized it was much lighter in my room now. The clock displayed 8am. The pounding sounded again and I laid there trying to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would go away. There was a lapse in the loud banging and right when I was starting to feel some relief, my phone buzzed on the table beside me. A message from Voight. 

You have about two seconds to open this door or I’m kicking it down.

I read the message twice before jumping out of bed with a groan, knowing he wasn’t kidding. I threw on some sweats that had been tossed aside a few days prior and made my way downstairs. I could see his frame looming through the tiny window on the door before I pulled it open, squinting in the bright daylight. His face was stern but his eyes were soft as he took me in. I could only imagine what I looked like. 

“I figured you might want a ride to the funeral.”

He stepped inside the door frame, causing me to take a step back. The silent message that he wasn’t leaving without me loud and clear. 

“I’m not going.”

I said weakly, hoping he wouldn’t fight me. He did, of course. His eyes bore into mine, assessing my mental state with precision skill. 

“You are.”

He informed me, once again relaying that I wasn’t going to win this. I couldn’t look at him any longer and instead let my head hang. I certainly didn’t trust my voice to speak so I let the silence linger between us. 

“Go take a shower and get in your blues. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Having nothing left in me to fight him with, I turned and padded my way back up the stairs. Entering the bathroom I took in the mess scattered before me, remnants of my roommates hungover rush to get ready for work. The sight bringing a lump to my throat. I quickly stripped out of the sweats and turned the water on as hot as it would go. Stepping under the stream, I let myself melt into the heat for just a moment before I started washing up, moving on autopilot with no real desire behind any of it. Once I was as clean as I was going to get, I stepped back out, tugging a towel on and shuffling towards my bedroom. The dress blues were tucked into the very back of my closet and under any other circumstance I would have pulled them out to freshen up. It was too late for that now as I worked to put it on and pin everything to the right place. Once dressed, I headed back to the bathroom to assess my hair. Deciding drying it and actually making it look nice was not something I could manage at this moment, I put a quick braid through the damp hair and called it good. I returned downstairs to find Voight right where I had left him and nodded towards the door to let him know I was ready to go. We silently climbed into his vehicle and he pulled out of my driveway, letting the silence hang between us. About halfway there he spoke and his sudden voice broke through the haze I had settled in too. 

“Coffee?”

I simply shook my head no, my eyes never shifting from the front window. 

“When’s the last time you ate?”

I could tell he was looking at me but I refused to look at him. 

“This morning.”

I lied, giving a shrug for added measure. I wasn’t sure if he believed me or not but he didn’t press the issue. Finally, or should I say, all too soon, we were pulling into the lot. I instantly spotted Jay standing next to Kevin and the constant lump in my throat burned even more. We climbed out and I followed after Voight with my head hung low. I came to stand beside Jay, risking just a small glance up at him before I registered the look of worry in his eyes and darted mine away. I couldn’t handle him looking at me like that and if I stared too long I knew I would fall apart. 

     Somehow I made it through the service, although to be honest, I don’t remember much of it. I had allowed the haze to settle back over me, blocking out the words and funeral music blaring from the speakers. It was over. She was gone. And I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into my bed and never get out. Except, as I recalled the morning’s events, I realized I didn’t have a ride. Voight was now tied up with the formalities that come with being a sergeant who’s lost a member of his unit. I surveyed the crowd, hoping to spot a patrol officer that could give me a quick ride, but instead I locked eyes with Jay. He hesitated for a moment before he made his way over to me, closing the gap quickly but leaving plenty of space between us. 

“I can drive you home.”

He offered, aware of my situation. Not seeing any other real option I gave him a quick nod and followed him to the truck. The ride back to my place was silent, something I was becoming all too familiar with. None of the usual banter that Jay and I usually exchanged. He pulled into my driveway and shut his truck off right as I was about to jump out. I sent him a look, telling him he could go but he climbed out behind me. I got to my door, unlocking it and stepping inside just as he rounded the top step. 

“Can I come in?”

He asked, his eyes pleading with me to not shut him out. Normally I would have been grateful for his presence, happily welcoming him in to do “our thing”. But everything was different now. We couldn’t do our thing because that required two things, him and me. And the ‘me’ part wasn’t here anymore. Her death, being the one to blame, this wasn’t something I would recover from and it wasn’t something I had any drive to even try to heal from. I was done. Empty. Nothing. 

“No.”

I all but whispered, moving to shut the door. But he was faster and his boot blocked me from closing it. 

“Hailey...don’t do this.”

He pleaded, making no motion to push the door open, only keep the gap to talk to me.

“You can go Jay. This isn’t something for you to fix.”

My words were harsher this time and I knew if he kept pushing I would hurt him. I wanted him to go, I didn’t want to be the broken person he felt the need to fix. 

“Hailey…”

My name left his lips so softly I almost felt a twinge of pain, but the numbness that had settled over me blocked it out. I wasn’t sure I was capable of feeling anything anymore. My core was shattered. 

“I’m not leaving you like this. I know what you’re thinking and this isn’t your fault.”

His words sparked something in me and I whipped the door back open to face him. 

“Isn’t my fault? Are you stupid? This is all my fault! I’m the one who planted the drugs, I’m the reason he got out, I’m the reason she was there, the reason she’s dead!”

By the time I finished I was screaming at him, my face burning red as I felt tears threaten to gather in my eyes. This line of thinking wasn’t new, it hadn’t left my mind since the moment she died, but it was the first time I had voiced it out loud. 

“She would have gone either way, you know that.”

He tried to reason, only fueling the fire.

“Jay, she never would have been a target if I hadn’t done what I did. This is all on me. I’m sorry you try to find the good in everyone but you can’t do that this time. I’m the reason she’s dead!” 

The tears were falling now, only making me more angry. I hated the way he was looking at me. 

“You’re my partner Hailey, I’m not leaving.”

I gripped the door between my hands, ready to force it shut as soon as I had the chance. 

“I’m not your partner Jay, not anymore. I’m done. Go away.”

My voice shook as I spoke and whatever tiny little bit I had left in me broke as I watched the hurt cross over his face. He removed his foot and the second the block was no longer there I slammed the door shut. I turned around, letting my body slump against the cool surface and collapsed onto the floor. Tears flowed down my face and sobs rose into my chest. I hadn’t cried yet, not really. But losing Jay, pushing him away, was the final straw and I fell apart.

[nefariouscryptid]

basorexia or concilliabule? perhaps both if you're up for the challenge my good man

Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

As much as he would love to convince himself that these feelings were the booze talking, or just sexual tension having long been ignored, he knew it wasn’t true. Maybe he’d have more self-control if he wasn’t a minute away from alcohol poisoning, or if he wasn’t currently alone, but he figured that indulging would make them go away. He thought maybe if he couldn’t live them, he could imagine them in as graphic of detail as he pleased. Jason didn’t consider how it would make them worse, only furthering his suffering, but it was too late.

He imagined a tongue gently sliding over his, the feeling of his cheeks and nose getting smooshed by the weight of his, and the moment where time could finally stop, and he could be free. Jason felt disgusting, but more then that, he felt afraid. Terrified that his own thoughts were going to be exposed, or there was some form of writing where Peter was going to see and find out everything Jason’s ever thought, and how long it’s been going on. Paranoia wracked his already incoherent mind and he scrambled for another drink, desperate to make them go away.

Jason didn’t care if he drank himself to death right then and there, because he knew he already died. He was never going to feel those soft lips against his own, and he gave up on life with that. Maybe he deserved it, for being so gross. He’s always been one to respect people with situations like this, seeing these kinds of thoughts as something only lowlifes and degenerates would think, and the fact he was that way towards his life partner best friend made him feel more perverted. Homosexuality wasn’t something he felt any disgust towards, no matter how much people tried to convince him of such, but it made the situation feel more disgusting and twisted. Desiring to be so intimate and intwined with someone that felt nothing back, but more horribly someone who trusted him. And he broke that trust by being a creep. Maybe if it was towards someone else, he wouldn’t feel a paralyzing guilt, but because it was for Peter, he wept.

Jason buried his face into the pillow next to him and gripping the mass tightly with his fists, he screamed. Muffled screams were cut off and followed by anguished sobs, as he cursed himself for being who he was, and condemning himself to a life of loneliness and unfulfillment.

Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.

Brian stood antsy, clenching and unclenching his hands to try and distract himself from every possible way this could go wrong. If he was being honest, he didn’t really think this through. Another case of him being guided by his emotions, jumping to every chance he could to feed into them. But in his defense, he thought, it wasn’t for him. It was for Plethora, who’s light was lost from his eyes from the near torture he had to go through for the sake of Durante, a man he didn’t even know, and for a man who didn’t give a fuck for Plethora’s own sake. His determination was coming back the more he thought about it. Some would call Brian pathetic for going to such lengths for something that was said and done, and maybe they were right. He didn’t care, though. He’d be dammed to let someone get away with tormenting his husband and putting him through such traumatic circumstances. Brian’s protective nature was something respectable, but also led him to stupid situations. Case in point, here.

Michelle Wilson turned the corner to behind the large wall separating Brian from the street and where he was, or so he thought. An unfamiliar face was illuminated by the small lights on the walls and was approaching him with sharp and purposed movements. His heart seized, thinking he’s been exposed. Reaching to pull his gun, the woman held her hand up, and stood in front of him.

“I’m here on behalf of Michelle Wilson, who will not present herself until we have reached an agreement on what your purpose is in our assessment, what motivates you, and the lengths you are willing to go.” She paused, and when Brian made no comment, either from fear or understanding, she continued. “Mr. V, I have been given a list of scenarios and reasons that you may provide me regarding the agreement you and Ms. Wilson came to, and if you say any in that list, you have an automatic acceptance and will meet up with Ms. Wilson later. If not, you will be terminated, unless providing a reason I have authority to deem worthy and reliable.” Sweat was dripping down the back of Brian’s neck and he was afraid of speaking. He’d never forgive himself if he fucked this up, and he started to realize his reasonings for agreeing to help Michelle out were NOT what she wanted to hear. But he’d risk his life for Plethora, and if this was the moment he died, then so be it.

“State your purpose.” The stand-in said.

“I believe in Wilsons reasonings as to why the Durante empire should be eradicated and have firsthand experienced the injustice and unfairness of his methods. I’m willing to go as far as needed, as long as my family is not put at risk.” Brian assertively spoke. While not a complete lie, he knew that “I want him dead because of what he put my husband through and Michelle is the only person who could help” was NOT an acceptable answer, so some sprinkling of a white lie here and there should cover that up. He couldn’t be convicted or accused of lying since what he said was technically true, and straight enough to the point where no one could think it was a lie. No ass kissing, no detachment from the situation.

The stand-in nodded, seemingly expecting that answer. The lack of negative reaction on her face was reassuring, but the lack of approval made him feel closer to passing out. She pulled out a card, to which he quickly swiped and pocketed, a key skill he’s learned in his career of dealing. The motion concealed the action as nothing but a hand rocking forward and back in boredom. The stand-in nodded again, this time in approval.

“You’re accepted. Meet at Pasadena City College in 6 days for your meetup with Ms. Wilson.” And with that, she briskly walked off, Brian immediately walking off in the opposite direction, beginning his detour around the unmarked building to not connect any footage to his car. He sighed in relief knowing his bullshitting worked but began to bite his lip at the realization that there would be no backing out now. He either secured the victory or doomed himself and his entire family. The thought made him want to throw up.

[chibiredfox]

Ok what if the dorm leaders had a robin hood s/o who gave money away to children and often gave the rich looking dorm leaders dirty looks as she had to work hard most the time only stealing if necessary but as they got to know her they understood she wasnt like this for no reason she had like twelve kids to feed after finding them abandoned would anyone do anything to help?

Quite an interesting one, thank you Anonymous for asking :3

Imma try to portray these guys as best as possible, since the game is now out.

Riddle Roseheart

At first he would be prideful by the dirty looks his s/o gave to other dorm leaders, he thought it was his/her/their way of saying 'back off I'm his not yours'. Although after a while, he figured this wasn't the case. After toning down the rules he had made, he had gotten curious as to why his s/o was always going out during the night and coming back in the relatively early morning exhausted.

He had scolded her/him/them to come back earlier and get good rest for the next day to come. After disobeying his scoldings numerous times, he secretly followed his s/o to see what they could possibly be doing that is more important than getting a good night's rest.

Witnessing the stealing from the rich and giving to the poor his s/o had committed, he felt sorrowful, dumbfounded even. He scolded his beloved for doing a good deed and he felt bad for doing such. When he confronted his s/o the next morning he apologized, although his s/o was confused at first, he explained what he was doing the night prior. His s/o felt grateful when Riddle had given her/him/them time to do said good deeds before night time had begun.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona pays no mind to what his s/o does at night, he could care less. Although he eventually started to worry about his s/o's health due to them coming back in the dawn of morning with sweat falling off their body and tired eyes, as if they had gone to do a night long jog. He then asked Ruggie to follow them to see what they were up to, to which Ruggie reluctantly accepted.

The next morning, Ruggie reported back to Leona with little to no clue of what his s/o's whereabouts could've been that night. After a few more nights with little results, Leona had decided to see for himself what the difficulty may have been, and what the hell you could possibly be doing at night.

Madols being collected from high place's and given to the run down place's residents. He found it peculiar that you would do this every night continuously, unless other circumstances came in the way. He confronted you right then and there, startling you a bit, he questioned why you bother to even do this for other people. You responded with your reasons with courage and bravery that could rival a knight's chivalry. Leona, satisfied with your answer thrown you over his shoulder and took you back to Night Raven.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is amused by the dirty looks you gave to the luxurious dorm leaders, hell he might even give a chuckle if your face was giving the right look. Although he can't notice much due to you assisting the Leech twins in collecting contracts from fellow students during school, except during down time you're still out and about. His mind was struck with curiosity when you would attempt to be quiet when returning to the dorm at midnight.

One night while you were out, Azul asked the twins to research on his s/o's whereabouts and maybe bargain for the info if it came down to it. The twins complied and began the next morning. What came as a surprise to Azul is that the twins found nothing. Azul, now concerned, decides he will take a 'night walk' tonight, he entrusts the dorm to the twins and demands them not to make a mess of it while he is gone.

The night had come and Azul is ready for his curiosity to be breached. As slick and quiet he can be, he followed your every movement with hawk eyes. After witnessing what he wanted to see, he immediately headed back to the dorm. The next day, he beckoned you to come to his office to discuss important details.

With the Leech twins standing behind his office chair, Azul's gloved hands knitted together, and a mischevious glint to his eye, he lays out what happened last night. You, utterly terrified, knew you were being followed but you didn't think it'd be Azul doing the following. Azul laid you off and allowed you to leave wishing you a good rest of your nights.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is completely oblivious to his s/o's doings at midnight, he would be fast asleep by the time you head out to commit the same nightly routine all over again. He would worry as to why you look so tired during class but you reassured him saying you barely got any sleep the night before. This excuse didn't work for so long though, Jamil notified Kalim that his s/o has been going out every night, which Kalim broke out into a worry frenzy immediately learning this.

Kalim begged for Jamil to find out why his s/o goes out into the dangerous night, but then had a different idea and wanted to go find out for himself. Jamil then let Kalim know that he had already figured out why you would do such things. Kalim, both overjoyed and sad, thanked Jamil for his efforts and wanted to throw a party for it, but Jamil declined.

The next day during class, Kalim asked you why you do such antics, you replied as lowly as possible to try not to catch unwanted attention. After explanations happened, Kalim was crying and hugged you, saying how you are the best person in the world and how did he get so lucky.

Vil Schoenheit

Your nightly antics immediately caught his attention, you would rush your night care routine and this is a no-no in his book. Although before he can even confront to you about such carelessness for your beauty, you'd already be out and gone. This did not bode well for him as the same actions occured each night, he tries to confront yet he fails to do so. This gets on his nerves and he asked Rook, as politely as he could be in his angered state, to follow up on where his s/o could be in a rush to.

After a couple days, Rook came back to Vil with your whereabouts. Vil is astonished as to why you'd do such things, you could have ruined your face! Or your delicate skin! During lunch hour Vil came over to where you ate then asked if you and him could talk in private. You complied in curiosity as to why Vil would need to talk to you about, maybe a hidden blemish?

Vil started to tear up when he inquired about your nightly routine of stealing and giving, he begged for your answer. You wiped away his tears and replied that you did this because of how you were raised and felt that you should keep this going. After a little bit a tears shed, Vil asked you to be careful on your nights out, and you promise to keep it.

Idia Shroud

Much like Vil, he would immediately notice your continuous night outs, although he would usually brush it off thinking you were getting some take out for food. Not that he exactly cared about that, he doesn't really have to eat to stay alive. He started to worry when he saw you have constant tired eyes, and sometimes see you fall asleep in class.

He wanted to confront you to get better sleep but he gets too scared at the thought of talking face to face with someone, even with his s/o except not so much. He needed to do something about it, so he assessed his options of going about it. He could send Ortho to go confront you for him, but then again, he doesn't want Ortho to get damaged. On the other hand, he could send one of his drones to spy on you.

After seeing you head out, he sent one of his drones to follow you around. Looking back over the footage after he woke up the next morning was astonishing to him. You steal, then you give? He had Ortho fetch you and bring you to his room. In Idia's room you questioned your partner, after a moment Idia asked why you steal, then give. You sat down on his bed and gave your reasons, knowing you can't play the unknowing person, you knew he has drones. Idia sat there in his chair for a few minutes in silence. He then ruffled your hair, giving a small smile calling you a dork.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus already knew about your weird night routine. He wanders the night what would you expect? He may not know why, although he thinks it's kind of weird, like any other human action he would be curious of your reasons of justice-like thievery. Much like Leona, he would confront you right then and there, except you knew he was there due to his aura and towering height.

Unlike most people though, you were used to Malleus' aura and reassured the frightened children that'd he do no such harm to them. Afterwards, Malleus motioned for you to follow him back to Night Raven. During the walk back he inquired as to why you would do such a weird thing. You nonchalantly gave your reason, and the walk back was silent there after as Malleus ponders about your reason.

Back at the dorm he bids you a good night and wishes that you'd be quicker about this so you can get better sleep.

--------------------------------------------------

Phew this took me awhile but I'm happy with the results and I hope you are too Anonymous! It's been awhile since I watched Robin Hood so I tried to do my best with what I could remember. >_<

I hope you have a good day/afternoon/night! :3

[nestfield3]

The Price Of Arbitration.

Arbitration Matters.

Content

Keep It About The Youngsters: Informing Your Children Regarding Divorce 1

Welcome To Kids First Arbitration.

Do Not Be Reluctant To Contact Us.

Supervised Or Sustained Contact.

At Mediate UK 90% of customers that go on to joint mediation have the ability to reach an agreement with arbitration. The conciliator will certainly ask you to check out all the options that you have, they will certainly assist you discover possibilities of concession and look for a means to move you both ahead. Mediation centres on arrangement as well as compromise and if those 2 aspects show up, there is every hope of an arrangement. For you to be able to get to a contract, you must both have a will and a wish to reach an arrangement. In such circumstances, the mediator will certainly look for the trick that unlocks a means forward.

If you are a solicitor as well as wants to refer clients for Household Mediation in Portsmouth or South East Hampshire please contact us. " In my view the debates for the proposition that the 1995 Act does not apply to mediations about cross-border kidnappings have the side". 11.35 The option of embracing a MIAM style technique in Scotland has the advantage of making parties knowledgeable about the schedule of ADR as an alternative to court. Nonetheless, study by the UK Government published in 2015 recommended that the applicant just went to a MIAM in 19% of situations. 11.32 The benefit of utilizing ADR is that as discussed in the introduction to this component, it may be quicker, more affordable, extra versatile and less stressful than litigating.

Keep It Regarding The Youngsters: Telling Your Kids About Divorce 1

The well-being of the child must be the court's top priority when choosing. Restricted actions order-- stops a person doing something with or to a youngster, for instance to stop a parent taking a kid abroad, or from picking a kid up from institution. The court will certainly encourage you to reach a contract, yet if you can not it might be essential for the court to release an order.

Investor-State Mediation - Developments, Opportunities & Challenges - Lexology

Investor-State Mediation - Developments, Opportunities & Challenges.

Posted: Tue, 05 Jan 2021 15:17:20 GMT [source]

To benefit one of the most from mediation, you must assemble an agenda, which details the points you desire to talk about during the arbitration process. If https://mediationeurope.net/germany/areas/ is tight, or you are on a reduced earnings, there might be neighborhood law groups near to where you live. Lots of have regular lawful surgeries, where you can review your situation with a qualified solicitor. If this happens, the conciliator will sign the required court type as well as the instance can then be heard by a judge or a magistrate. If you are not qualified for lawfully assisted mediation you will certainly be expected to pay ahead of time before each arbitration session. Payments can be made in cash money at the office, by card over the telephone or online. Please do not quit me having contact with expanded member of the family who are very important to me.

Welcome To Youngsters 1st Mediation.

The moderator will be independent, even if they run from a solicitor's workplace, as well as won't take sides. Mediation can assist you and the various other moms and dad resolve problems without going to court. Requesting a court order typically takes longer and also might be more expensive and also difficult. Arbitration might just be a chance to talk with somebody independent about your parenting circumstance.

In some cases arbitration is not effective and also in such situations, the moderator will certainly discuss what other choices are readily available to solve the conflict, such as settlement. During the preliminary arbitration session with your ex-partner, the moderator will certainly discuss the guideline and what is expected of everyone in the mediation space. This info is documented completely in a paper called Contract to Moderate. After having experienced the file, you and also your ex lover will be asked to sign it, if you accept the terms. In the previous four months you attempted arbitration but it had not succeeded. An approved mediator has to validate this and also validate that mediation is not the very best method for you to resolve your conflict.

Do Not Be Reluctant To Contact Us.

Make it easy for me to take things I need when I hang around with my other parent, such as institution work, PE sets, garments, publications, video games, phone etc . Don't make me feel guilty regarding hanging out with my various other moms and dad. Child assessment supplies children the opportunity to place their sights onward within a neutral environment in a way which ensures they do not really feel responsible for making decisions. If you are represented by a solicitor at court it will certainly be more costly, with most household solicitor firms pricing estimate upwards of ₤ 5,000 for your situation.

Monitored contact can be through a kid contact centre or at the home of an additional person, or under the supervision of one more person. Education i.e. which school the child will go to, gain access to for the other parent to info concerning efficiency, moms and dad's evenings, participation and so on . Presently any individual who intends to claimLegal Aid, will just be able to get access to Legal Aid if they attend a MIAM, with an approved family mediator, unless there are extraordinary cases of evidenced domestic physical violence. At Children 1st Arbitration Plymouth we believe that most people, if provided the best assistance as well as possibility, can reach their own remedies to the issues as well as or difficulties that they are encountering. Family members mediation is a way of fixing conflicts which arise in the past, throughout or after separation or separation. Required to sort Monetary concerns consisting of Home, Pensions, assets, financial debts? Helping you reach arrangements that serve to both of you and will certainly permit each of you to proceed with your life.

Monitored Or Sustained Contact.

This is done by speaking through and exercising all concerns surrounding your divorce or separation, whether it be before, during or after the occasion. Now that you have actually acquired a much better understanding of the expenses involved in the separation/divorce process in regard to arbitration, you may be feeling unclear and overwhelmed. This area lays out the complying with steps that you need to currently require to aid you in going ahead with separation and also mediation. If you do not certify, nonetheless, our trained moderators will be able to help you in working out how to pay these costs in a manner that is best for you. We are an award-winning company with seasoned arbitrators approved by the Family members Mediation Council.

If you concern an arrangement, your mediator will certainly need to create this up, and there is normally a charge for this. You probably have actually thought this, yet divorces are constantly less expensive if you can avoid court. If the proposals are approved by you both, these are then written up by the family members arbitrator right into a Parenting Plan or a Memorandum of Understanding with an Open Financial Declaration. Family members arbitration is very organized as well as adheres to a specified process. By going to arbitration, it can aid you and your ex-partner get a divorce quicker. This is generally since you are communicating, whether it be in shuttle bus or in person. Your separation schedule quite depends upon just how you as well as your ex-partner work together.

The Length Of Time Does A Collective Separation Take?

There are most likely to be expenses included, as you can not get legal help for household issues unless you have suffered domestic physical violence, or very hardly ever-- your situation is "extraordinary". Mediation relies on 2 individuals intending to solve their disagreement, despite the fact that they have extremely various perspectives at the beginning of the procedure. Some programmes are created to aid you gain abilities that will assist you negotiate in a calm as well as favorable way. Figure out as long as feasible regarding each kind of service so you can choose the one that finest fits you as well as your situation. If you continue with arbitration, it typically accompanies the other parent over a number of sessions.

What is an example of mediation?

The definition of mediation is a process of negotiation in a relationship to resolve differences. When a couple is divorcing and they work with a neutral third party that helps them resolve divorce issues and divide up assets and property, this is an example of mediation.

If there is a threat to life or the safety of the person making the court application, or their family or their residence is at danger. If the court application you are making, is linked to a matter which is already in the household courts and also in which you are entailed. Household mediation is a completely voluntary procedure, so no person is mosting likely to make you participate in.

You or your wife, partner or ex-partner can not access an arbitrator's office, because among you has a special needs. Nonetheless, it needs to be remembered that if the arbitrator can give the appropriate lodging, after that you will certainly both still be called for to participate in the conference.

If you make an application to court, you will require to have had a MIAM for an approved arbitrator to be able to sign the relevant certificate to allow your situation to be listened to. Depending upon the scenario as well as ages of the kids, the Cafcass Officer might talk directly to the youngsters to get their sights and input. The plan should work for both moms and dads-- if it doesn't, there is little motivation for both moms and dads to either consent to the plan or apply it consistently. mediators Ireland ex pats is versatile to cover anything that you desire covered as moms and dads. There are particular things that a court takes into consideration when deciding what's in a child's benefits. The court considers all the scenarios of the situation and not simply the checklist, yet it's the starting point. When choosing whether to make an order, the court must think about whether it would certainly be much better for the welfare of the youngster to make an order than not make an order.

The arbitrator will certainly likewise review with you what you wish to achieve and also address any type of inquiries that you may have regarding the process. We after that established totally free initial individual meetings which will certainly last about half a hr for both of you to learn even more regarding mediation without incurring any significant costs. We generally write out and after that talk with your ex-partner to engage them in the mediation process. If you are just talking about youngsters's matters then 2-3 joint sessions is typically enough to deal with matters.

New mediation program for landlords and tenants, emergency aid to renters, to be provided by Housing Initiatives of Princeton - - Planet Princeton

New mediation program for landlords and tenants, emergency aid to renters, to be provided by Housing Initiatives of Princeton -.

Posted: Wed, 16 Dec 2020 08:00:00 GMT [source]

Nonetheless, if a joint arbitration session has happened then there is a ₤ 45 cost including VAT for the solution to finish the kind. The arbitrator will certainly after that prepare a written agreement tape-recording the decisions that you have made together.

[maddie-grove]

What Can You Do?

A really important part of advocating for any cause is sitting down and figuring out what you realistically can contribute. Making decisions on the fly or in the throes of emotion often leads to doing less than you intended (because you didn’t figure out how it would fit into your routine/budget) or more than you can handle (which leads to you needing to put out fires in other parts of your life, which in turn leads to you...doing less than you intended in the long run). Making a plan is its own step and deserves to be recognized as such. Do not worry that you’re wasting time by planning before you act. I’ve made that mistake before in many areas of my life, and it always led to a lot of unnecessary stress and made me less productive sooner rather than later.

The first thing you can do is think about the resources you have. For example:

Money: Can you afford to give $10 or $100 to charity a month? Or are you barely getting by?

Health: Are you pretty strong and healthy? Or do you have physical conditions that would make it particularly risky to catch coronavirus or be thrown in jail without your meds?

Time: Do you have a decent amount of free time? Or are you having to teach your three kids at home while working at the grocery store, and also you’re moving in two weeks?

Emotional Bandwidth: Do you have a pretty good handle on your stress and sadness? Or are you having a particularly hard time with trauma or mental illness or family issues or working in an emotionally demanding job?

Knowledge: Are you pretty familiar with the history of the people you’re trying to help or the problem you’re trying to solve? Or did you just hear the term “systemic racism” last week? 

Experience/Skills: Do you know how to organize a protest or annoy your representative into doing something or invoke your right to a lawyer? Or are you at a loss of how to apply your particular skills to any of this?

Power/Authority: Do you have a job or hold a volunteer position where you’re able to help the people you want to help? Or...not that?

Freedom: Are you free to decide how you expend your resources or express yourself without fear of violence or destitution? Or are you under the thumb of an abusive partner or caregiver?

None of this is to say that only the strongest, most self-actualized millionaires should be expected to help; it’s just that (a) everybody has to work with their actual circumstances and (b) everybody has strengths and weaknesses in what they have to give. 

If you have a little extra money but can’t watch the news or consume a lot of social media without crying yourself to sleep or having a panic attack? Buddy, no one needs you to watch the news that bad. Donate to the NAACP Legal Fund, ask a politically engaged friend what they’re writing their rep about, and get as much help for your anxiety issues as possible--not just so you’ll be a better advocate, but because you’re a human being and you deserve help.

If you work full-time as a nurse or a legal aid attorney or something else emotionally (and maybe physically) taxing where you help vulnerable people? The most important things you can do are almost certainly going to be related to work. Learn as much as you can about how the cause intersects with your work, and advocate for ways to make things better for your clients/patients, as well as your coworkers who don’t have the privileges you do. Then go home and rest. If you can go out and protest after all of that, you have my admiration, but you don’t have to run yourself ragged.

If you’re a college student, broke and stuck at home with not much to do now that classes have wrapped up? You don’t have to give up eating all protein and produce in order to donate to charity; you can instead take this time to inform yourself and get involved in organizations.

And if you’re truly not able to do anything, because you’re in the middle of a crisis or you’re living with controlling people who will hurt you for even reading the wrong thing? Get away, get safe, get better. Don’t wreck your life to help other people in the short term. At best, you’ll temporarily be in a position where it’s even harder to help others than before. At worst, you’re dead, and never able to help anyone again. Live to help people another day, when you’re stronger and can do more. You deserve a life where you are able to take care of yourself and help others. Everyone does.

Other things to keep in mind:

If you’re unsure whether you’re doing too much or too little, ask another person. I recommend someone who personally knows you and genuinely cares about you, but wouldn’t take your side in a dispute with a third party if you were being a real dick. 

Decide on what you’re going to give and stick to that for a set amount of time. Then you can assess if you are able to do more, or need to scale back.

Don’t worry if other people are doing more than you. If you admire them for what they do and you want to work up to that, that’s wonderful, but your contributions are not worthless just because they’re smaller.

If you’re worried about other people doing less than you (not actively doing harm or not participating because they don’t care or “want to remain neutral,” just doing less than you), channel that energy into helping other people do more. Do some people avoid helping out of bad faith? Of course. Do you always know who those people are and never end up making someone more vulnerable than you feel guilty instead? Nope. Send a petition or one of those streaming videos to your friend you don’t think is that poor, or recommend The Color of Law to your anxious friend whom you privately think should just buck up and get back on Facebook. 

Don’t focus so much on being a good person; focus on doing good things. These can include actions (donating to a mutual aid fund), words (challenging a racist comment), and introspection (reexamining beliefs). The Puritans spent a lot of time wondering whether they were good people, and they actually had some very good ideas about social justice, but they were also mentally exhausted all the time and once accused a one-eyed dude of fathering a one-eyed pig. (Just like in recent Star Wars fandom.) Also, most people, especially people you don’t know very well, put more value on how your actions affect them and those they care about than your overall character. Which is fair.

You can and should listen to people who have activism experience and/or are more marginalized than you are, but no one can be your brains for you. You have to come to an understanding on your own, and that’s okay. 

I’m not a Methodist anymore, but something John Wesley said still resonates with me:

Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as ever you can.

This seems like a tall order on the surface, but what I like about it is that it doesn’t tell you how much good you need to do for it to matter. You should try to do more throughout your life, but what you can do always matters. 

[nocturne-inuyasha-ff]

Chapter Fifteen: Torment and Mayhem

Nocturne - Chapter Fifteen: Torment and Mayhem

Rated - M (for suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

Tsering led Sesshomaru along to a room. He followed only because he had been promised to see the woman in good faith. There would be hell to pay had any harm befallen her. Even agreeing to this charade was folly as there was no guarantee Fan would not kill her later. So, he strode silently behind.

He had been led to a room that looked vacant outside of minimal decor and other furnishings. It was evident that the room belonged to Tsering based upon her lingering scent alone. Why he had been brought to this room was unknown to Sesshomaru. He allowed a low growl to rumble deep within his chest to express his dissatisfaction.

"This was not part of our arrangement," he announced, dryly.

Tsering glanced at him from over her shoulder, eyeing him coldly. "You are not the only one who requires a show of good faith." She walked over to a large mirror and looked at the reflection. A smile tugged at her lips while she used the mirror's reflection to assess him.

His eyes narrowed at her. "I am loathed to repeat myself."

She turned gracefully, her headdress tinkling. Reaching up a hand, she pulled it off and loosened her hair so that it fell down her back in shimmering waves of silver. "Then let me occupy your lips, your thoughts…" With a sashay of her hips, she reached him and placed one hand on his chest, and the other she stroked his fur.

Sesshomaru was not inclined to allow this folly, obviously a play to force his hand. He gave Tsering a shove that sent her stumbling backward a few feet. Despite the rejection, she smiled coyly. "Do not deny me, Sesshomaru. I must know that you intend to honor our marriage."

"Should a maiden not remain so for her wedding night?" Sesshomaru asked in an attempt to deter Tsering's advances.

She laughed melodiously. "You jest, Sesshomaru. Do not pretend that those as long-lived as we do not share pleasures with others."

"I prefer to be judicious with my partners," Sesshomaru responded.

"What a choice of words for one who fucks humans," Tsering said with venom. A loathsome grin grew, her words chosen with barbarous care.

He reacted immediately, closing the distance between them in seconds and gripped her by her shoulders. He snarled silently, sneering at her despite her amused expression. "Look around yourself, bitch. Do not attempt to bandy words about when your own situation is just as dire."

Her smile slipped momentarily as she contemplated his words. She slipped her arms under his and wrapped them around his neck, pressing her body against his. "Exactly why I am adamant about seeing this union through."

Tsering was a conniving woman who was acting out of desperation. Her womanly wiles were her only means of getting what she wanted, and over the centuries, she had not likely been denied by any. Sesshomaru could see that her motivations, while different, led to a similar goal.

She stood up on her tiptoes to look at him in the eye. He did not push her away this time even as her lids lowered and her lips came near. It may have been in his best interests to allow a kiss; to go along with her aims and leave Fan's estate unscathed. That would have been the easy path, but an unhonorable one. Sesshomaru turned his head at the last second, and Tsering's lips grazed his cheek.

He had expected her to be angry, but she only chuckled at him. Her eyes flicked up to look behind him for a brief moment before settling back on Sesshomaru. Tsering stepped back and spun away from him. He heard her let out a tiny sigh, but she glanced back over her shoulder with a smile.

"Come then. Your human woman awaits," she said with a shrug. Letting her hair remain down, she readjusted her disheveled robes.

o - o - o - o - o

An hour had passed since Fan had come to taunt her, and Kagome sat on the Western-style chair in apparent melancholy. She figured that something would happen soon, whether she was to be released or killed or whatever that ingrate had in mind. Nothing mattered now to her except that Setsuna, her baby, was safe. It eased her anxiety somewhat to think that she must be safe; otherwise, she would be imprisoned here as well.

A knock on the door brought her from her thoughts, and she bolted upright. There had never been a knock on the door, and Kagome was unsure what to do. Under normal circumstances, she would answer the door and invite the guest in, but her circumstances now were far from ordinary. Hesitantly, she stepped to the door, which remained closed, and stood for a few heartbeats.

The knock sounded again, and Kagome slid the door open. Her jaw dropped at the creature she beheld. What looked to be a large man with the head of a horse stared down at her. His large animal eyes seemingly devoid of human emotion simply gazed at her. Dark hair fell over its forehead and spilled down its back and robust shoulders, which shook out from side to side in an equestrian manner. The creature held a giant pitchfork in its grossly oversized human hands, which it used to tap on the ground in a demanding manner. It stepped aside to her right in a military-like manner, allowing her to exit the room. Apparently, this was Fan's way of summoning her.

When she exited the room, another clacking noise sounded from left. The sound caused her to jump, and she found another similar creature standing there with a large, barbed scythe in hand. This creature had the head of a bull, complete with a large nose ring. The pair of creatures flanked her, and the horse-headed man urged her forward with a point of his murderous pitchfork.

Kagome was lead down the halls, past many rooms. The halls were just as eerily quiet as the room in which she was being held. Their footsteps echoed down the length of the hall, announcing their passing to anyone with ears. Eventually, they reach a large room, ornate with weaponry from all past and current eras and nationalities. It wasn't the weaponry that caught her eye, though.

In the middle of the room, a cutting figure waited, resplendent in his meticulous garb with his long hair flowing down behind his back. He looked every part of the regal yokai he was and an exceptionally beautiful with a matching woman to his side. Sesshomaru watched her arrive with a cold gaze, much different from the amused expression his female companion wore.

Kagome felt her throat grow tight, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep her emotions in check. It was so easy for him to do, and she envied him his ability to appear so cold and feel nothing. What a fool she was to think to feel anything for someone who could so callously set her aside.

She'd never seen the inuyokai woman, not truly. Their first unofficial meeting had been obstructed by her death, revival, and then the bodies of her friends that protected her. Now, seeing the beautiful woman made her feel shameful that he would ever consider putting Tsering aside for her.

Tsering stood beside Sesshomaru, practically hanging off of him with her left arm looped casually over his shoulder and her robes coming undone and her hair loose. Even looking disheveled from whatever they had started in the room hours ago, Tsering was gorgeous. Her flowing silver tresses had a beautiful white sheen to it, and her lips looked plumply pink. Kagome paled in comparison. What could she give? Could she do better than the woman at his side? She was human and would likely die long before the pair were even in their prime.

The horse and ox-man stopped just outside the door of the room, and Kagome was free to go the rest of the way on her own. Holding her head up high, she walked in a few feet to stand before the couple. What was the purpose of parading them before her? Or her them? She did her best to keep her arms pinned to her sides — no point in making a scene. What's done is done, and now she just wanted to get back to Setsuna, the only constant in her life.

Kagome jumped a fraction when she heard Fan's voice from behind her.

"I'm glad you could make it," he said with his ever-present smile.

"How could I refuse such a gracious invitation?" she snapped, boldly. Kagome didn't incline to play whatever game Fan Tsenpo had orchestrated, but she still stepped right into his verbal trap. He stepped up behind her and pointed over her shoulder to the array of decorative weapons mounted on the wall.

"Do you enjoy it? My display?" he asked casually.

Kagome looked around the room, her brows drawn together in perplexion at his random question. "It is not to my tastes," she replied sardonically.

Tsering laughed, a sound equally as beautiful as her countenance. "My brother is something of a collector. He has rooms dedicated to a great many different things. Though why he has chosen to delay things with talk of his crude pieces is beyond me."

Fan grinned, "Tut, tut, sister! There is always a method to my madness!"

Tsering's face fell a little, Kagome noticed, but her smile did not fall entirely. Fan walked around the room in great strides, largely ignoring all of the occupants as he gazed at the walls. He stopped by a bow, similar to the bow Kagome was well acquainted with. Delicately, he picked it up and a single arrow next to it. He examined the two items before bringing them over and presenting them to Kagome.

"How about this one? Care to give it a try?" he asked.

She wasn't sure what to do and looked at him quizzically. His behavior was even more confusing now than she'd previously encountered. "Try it?"

"Yes, this is a similar weapon to what your creed use, though much older. I'm certain it will still work for you," he began.

Still perplexed, she looked over to Sesshomaru, whose visage was still a silent mask. Fan regarded her in amusement. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting a shrine maiden. Although I am perplexed, I've always been told that one had to be...well...a maiden otherwise the spiritual powers would leave. Care to demonstrate?"

"Demonstrate?"

"Yes, it's simple. I merely require a demonstration from you, and I promise on my sister's life that you will be free to go."

Tsering's eyes widened, and her jaw went partially slack, but she held her tongue. Likely trusting her brother would not allow harm to come to her.

That deal sounded loaded heavily, and not in her favor. Still, he wasn't giving her many options, and Sesshomaru was not in a position or had the inclination to have an input. "What are your terms?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh, a smart one you are. I should not have expected any less," he laughed. Fan walked towards Sesshomaru and clapped him on the back. Sesshomaru cut a quick glare at the man but said nothing.

"Ox-man, come here!" Fan demanded, using a waving hand.

The ox-man entered wordlessly. He must have heard what had been proposed, and he was either too loyal or too stupid to question his master.

"Show me what you are capable of here on him." Fan pointed to the ox-man and tilted his head.

"No, I will not," Kagome said.

"You will."

"I refuse."

"Do not push me, girl. I have a great amount of time and power in my hands. It would not even be sporting of me to find your whelp child and dispose of it...or add it to my collection of oddities."

Kagome flushed with rage. "You wouldn't." She knew he would. Part of her was unsure of why she would suggest otherwise.

"It is only your fortune that it is not here now to sway you further, but I can promise that I will uphold my word."

Kagome gripped the bow tightly. She'd never had to execute anyone who had not attacked her outright; even then, she was hesitant to kill without it being a last resort. However, a threat against Setsuna was too much of a risk. Especially a threat from Fan.

The ox-man stood quietly several feet in front of her. There wasn't even a chance she could miss at such a short-range. Gritting her teeth, she slowly raised the bow and allowed a trickle of spiritual power to flow into her arrow.

The demon stood still, its face devoid of thought or emotion. Kagome gritted her teeth and inhaled, holding the breath in her chest as she aimed. With an exhale and an expert hand, she released the string, and the arrow flew.

It seemed to fly in slow motion, though only seconds passed. The arrow grew in intensity as it drew closer, the spiritual power building to become an overwhelming burst of light as it reached its target. The arrow hit true in the beast's chest, and the spiritual power consumed him, engulfing him in purification. In a flash, the ox-man was gone, decimated into nothingness. Kagome felt her arm go slack and her face blank. She'd never killed so wantonly before, and despite having a legitimate reason, it still hurt her.

She looked to Fan, who stood with his back resting against a wall near an assortment of swords of varying lengths, widths, and other diameters, and he seemed quite pleased with himself. His arms were folded, and he looked down his straight nose at her, his face unusually unreadable.

"Are you not entertained?" she blurted out callously. Inwardly, she snickered despite herself at her pun that no one in this era would get.

Fan remained relaxed against the wall. "Not quite. It is one thing to demonstrate on a low ranking Niu Tou. I am certain he is pleased to return to Difu along with his counterpart, anyway."

Her face must have belied her confusion and disappointment as he carried on, "With that said, I am impressed, though I would now like to see that power against a more formidable opponent. Perhaps a daiyokai?" he suggested. He brought over to her another arrow, placing it in her hand with care.

"Order them in," Kagome said flatly. It would weigh heavily upon her, she knew.

"No need, he is already here," he responded with his sinister grin and gesturing to the couple on the other side of the room. Tsering had led Sesshomaru by the arm out of harm's way moments before Kagome was to 'demonstrate' her abilities. Now, Tsering went completely slack-jawed.

Kagome, incredulous, gasped, "What?" Her head swiveled to look at Sesshomaru. He looked...bored?! He didn't seem perturbed at all. Perhaps he knew something that Kagome did not. 'How could he do or say nothing?!' she wondered.

Tsering stepped away from Sesshomaru in outrage. "Brother! What ludicrousy is this?"

"I am merely curious," he chuckled.

"Then conduct your experiment on someone else," she responded acidly.

"No, I want to see," Fan said. He made a waiting gesture to Kagome, and the look he gave his sister was sinister, yet admonishing one indeed. One that quieted her and caused her to step back.

Fan waited as Kagome held the bow and arrow in her hands. "My promise to you still stands," he reminded her.

He marked her hesitation, "You hesitate, yet he would not do the same for you. We are not human, but more and above the trivial and feeble emotions you mortals are subjected to. He could care for you no more than a pet, which you practically are in comparison to my sister, a daiyokai."

Kagome glared at Fan and looked at Sesshomaru from the corner of her eyes. He was infuriatingly silent. How could he be so unmoved?! Fan was probably right; even Sesshomaru had said she was just a good time the last time she'd seen him. How could she have such complex, complicated feelings for someone who would not or could not have them in return?

She mentally berated herself for thinking he could love her, which she had allowed herself to believe for just a moment. After he had come back, she thought it was because he felt...something.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to kill him, if even her power could do that. Kagome looked into his golden eyes and then saw something, a trick of the light, she wasn't sure.

It seemed a perfect opportunity as any, and she placed the arrow against the string, taking in a breath and pulling it taunt.

She aimed the arrow at its target and noticed that Tsering had fled to another corner of the room, abandoning her intended to Kagome's spiritual power.

Kagome felt fury well up inside her and channeled that emotion into her arrow. She could feel her righteous anger leave her into the shaft, leaving her steady and calm.

If her first shot had impressed Fan Tsenpo, then this one would blow him away. The arrow already shone with a blinding light and would purify anything within its vicinity. At the last second, she moved her aim and loosed the arrow.

o - o - o - o - o

It was no task to keep his face schooled into a semblance of aloof arrogance. Sesshomaru had long ago mastered the art of a stoic face, and the practice served him well throughout the centuries. Though, he seldom had a reason for his facade to break from his uncaring expression.

The miko had blown into his world and unsettled his spectrum of life; first, by releasing his idiot brother and then by unleashing a pandemonium of events that ultimately led them here.

His skill of maintaining himself and his semblance was being utilized to its greatest potential at the moment. Tsering hung off him like a lamprey sucking at its host like a parasite. Currently, she had laid her head on his shoulder in a pathetic display of affection that he fought the urge to shove off. That would do him no good at the moment.

As Sesshomaru looked around, feigning a bored sense of interest, he found the contents of the room he had been brought to be a little macabre, but he was not surprised given the collector of the items. Fan Tsenpo was an oddity, and Sesshomaru had seen it all. It would seem that a pang of insatiable hunger for power and knowledge did not age well.

Weapons of all kinds were hung upon the walls. Sesshomaru even noticed items of considerable renown from Edo had been enshrined as well. What a waste. Fan may be a warrior, but he was also careless and arrogant, which was showcased throughout the estate.

The man had only just arrived inside the room and had taken a sword from the wall sheathed inside an ornate hilt. Fan pulled the weapon a quarter of the way outside of its hilt to show a beautiful bronze blade. Fan smiled at the sword and looked over at Sesshomaru. "Beautiful, is it not? Yokai-made, though humans pretend that they can craft something so perfect. The blade is older even than I and still brilliant and sharp."

Fan sheathed the blade and placed it back up on its wall mount. "No, blades like that are just not cast any longer."

"I do not think Sesshomaru is interested in your playthings, brother," Tsering said with annoyance. Even as she clung to him, her arms wrapped tight around his own and a smile plastered on her face, she was ready to be done with the charade Fan was putting on.

Fan shrugged and put his arms across his chest. "No matter, our guest is on her way as we speak."

Sesshomaru could hear the steps of two larger-bodied figures and the fainter sound of footsteps that must be the miko. He watched as she stepped hesitantly into the room, her eyes settling upon him but not before narrowing at Tsering's embrace.

Strangely, she did not display surprise at what she saw. Though it must have distracted her, despite the lack of surprise, for she was visibly stricken when Fan came up from behind.

The man taunted her and paraded his boorish collection for his hidden purposes. Fan's intentions, by orchestrating this meeting, were glaringly obvious; but the fool was all over the place, and it was hard to put a thumb on precisely what he planned.

Sesshomaru had asked for proof that the woman was alive and unharmed. He had been given that proof, yet Fan continued to dangle the woman in front of him like some scintillating treat. Rubbing his nose in it seemed more likely. Sesshomaru figured he would have to endure this torment to assure the woman's life.

Fan's little show culminated in a finale where he demanded a demonstration of the woman's powers. Now Fan was showing his hand. He was pushing the miko into place.

She balked at the suggestion, unsurprisingly.

It wasn't until the crazy yokai threatened the child that she broke and gave in, extinguishing the yokai in front of her with a subliminal show of power.

Now, just as Sesshomaru expected, Fan ordered the woman to use her powers upon him. Both Tsering and the woman looked to the sneering Fan incredulously. Tsering even went so far as to question her brother, to no avail.

Again, Fan threatened the life of their mutual child. Even so, the woman looked piteously upon him, at war with herself. She must choose the life of her child or his own.

Fan pushed the woman, suggesting that Sesshomaru would not hesitate to kill her if their situations were reversed. Her eyes began to well up with unshed tears, and she bit her lip.

Sesshomaru felt his brows knit with concern. Not for himself, but for her. He was the reason she was here, being pushed to commit heinous acts that may be nothing for him, but taxed her spirit much. She suffered, though she put on a strong face.

Slowly, the miko raised her weapon and aimed at his chest. It would be a fatal blow, he knew.

He watched her eyes and their gaze locked on one another. Sesshomaru heard her draw in a breath, meaning she was to loose the arrow.

As the miko exhaled, she turned her aim towards Fan in the final second. If Fan had not expected this, he gave no tell. His smile never left his face, even as Tsering gasped.

Much to Sesshomaru's annoyance, Fan had caught the arrow midair. The glowing light of condensed spiritual power seemed minuscule, and he even had the audacity to laugh. But, the light grew larger and larger until Fan's laugh dissipated, and his smile turned into a grimace.

The miko took a step forward and held out a hand where more blinding light shone. Her face was one of concentration and determination.

The spiritual power began to grow and envelope Fan, who still held the arrow aloft in his hand and grunted to be free of purification. The fool had bitten off more than he could chew. The spiritual blast would not kill him, but it would disorient the man at the very least.

Sesshomaru took the opportunity to dislodge himself from Tsering, who stood transfixed to the unfolding events befalling her brother.

Fan roared with anger, and likely pain, before he freed himself from his grip of the arrow. The light fizzled out once it hit the ground, looking harmless and unassuming.

Once the light had dissipated some, Sesshomaru noticed Fan's right half was burned beyond recognition, and his face now bore a gruesome and permanent smirk quite befitting him. His eye shone pale in comparison to the other, which began to glow a dull red.

Sesshomaru stepped in front of the miko and pulled free his sword. "It would seem you placed a wager you could not pay, Fan Tsenpo. Now you shall reap the reward."

Fan did not respond with words but grew in size of monstrous proportions. Fur spread over his body, and his limbs contorted as he grew to take on his true form.

o - o - o - o - o

Kagome watched as Fan continued to grow in size. Were they to die? Cut down by a ferocious daiyokai in its massive true form? A yokai in its TRUE form was immensely more powerful than the one contained in the smaller human-sized vessel.

She'd recalled when Sesshomaru had taken his form, but in comparison, Fan was much, much more significant. The room they were in was large, but already Fan had burst through the ceiling, allowing him to grow larger still. Every part of the building shook and crumbled down.

Kagome raised her hands in a vain attempt to stop from being pummeled with shards of wood and bits of mortar and stone. She squeezed her eyes shut in reflex, but when nothing pelted her, she peeked to see Sesshomaru in front of her. He blocked all falling debris quickly, waiting solemnly with his blade drawn. Would he transform, too?

Fan snarled and growled in his monstrous form, making incoherent moves and swatting at where he must have thought they would be. He continued to attack anything and everything in his path, destroying much of his palace.

The screams and shouts of the unseen castle residents could be heard from varying parts of the palace grounds, and mortals and yokai alike fled from the destruction.

Kagome looked at the large daiyokai with confusion. Why was he not attacking them?

"He has been blinded," Sesshomaru provided an answer to her unspoken question. He looked over his shoulder at her. "I shall end this," he told her and quickly launched up toward the rampaging Fan.

In a brilliant moment, Sesshomaru took Bakusaiga and easily cut the beast down. It was not a fair fight. Fan lashed out wildly, relying on his remaining senses to aid him but to no avail. It was child's play for Sesshomaru to avoid the large paws and the huge gnashing teeth.

Fan fell to the ground in slow motion, landing with a resonant thud. His enormous chest heaved up and down until the movements became shallow and eventually stopped.

It seemed all too anticlimactic as Sesshomaru turned his back on his opponent and walked calmly back towards her. He sheathed his sword and held out a hand to her.

Kagome gave a start, "Wait, where's Tsering?!" She had failed to notice the woman's absence and immediately grew concerned.

Sesshomaru did not seem to share her worry. "She fled after you fired upon her brother," he answered.

"Oh. Should we be worried?" Kagome asked, looking around. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by Sesshomaru's former fiancee.

"No," he responded and extended his hand again to her, urging her to take it. "Let us be away from here."

Kagome could not agree more and took his hand. He pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist before they rose into the air, up and away from the destruction below.

o - o - o - o - o

It had taken days to arrive back to Kagome's village. Sesshomaru had delivered her wordlessly upon the doorstep of her home outside the town.

The journey home had been immensely awkward for her. It would have likely taken only half the time for Sesshomaru to travel on his own, but he was laden down with a mortal woman who needed to eat, sleep, and do other human things.

While the entire trip was not completely silent, the words they exchanged held no value. Sesshomaru had offered no excuses nor explanations to any of the events transpired and Kagome was not inclined to ask, still sulking from the experience.

Kagome knew she was being stubborn, but she assured herself that she was not wrong for feeling the way she did. It wasn't her fault that Sesshomaru could be likened to a cantankerous old man. She glowered at him more often than not during their pauses on the journey. She was confident that he noticed, but he made no mention of her irritable mood.

Upon arriving home, Kagome rushed inside only to find the house empty. She was unsure why she expected anyone to be here, but she deflated inside nonetheless. It was like all of her expectations were always set to high, and she could not place a finger on what she should settle for. It was as if she continuously set her sights too high.

Kagome scoffed when it dawned on her that Sesshomaru must have known that no one was here. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and spun around. Kagome stood inside, looking around for a moment, and Sesshomaru stepped in.

"There is no one here," he stated.

"I've gathered," she said testily. "Why would you bring me here, then?"

[silver-lily-louise]

A Whole New World - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Summary: 'He leaps to his feet, standing in the kitchen doorway, unable to tear his gaze away as the smoke coalesces into a figure. And when that figure – a tall, lean, incredibly hot man decked out in silver jewellery, and colourful silks, and dramatic eyeliner around his golden eyes – turns to face him, Alec’s pretty sure his heart stops for a few seconds.' When Alec frees a genie trapped in a lamp, he earns three wishes, and a new temporary housemate. 

AO3 link, or alternatively, read Chapter 1 below!

~oOo~

Chapter 1: A Diamond in the Rough

Not a bad find, Alec thinks, a pleased smile on his face as he lifts the bundle of white crêpe paper from his satchel. He’d only gone to the thrift shop to donate some old clothes, but the display marked Oddities had glinted in the late afternoon sunlight, catching his eye – and when he saw the lamp, something about it just spoke to him. He checked the price ticket, and finding that it was less than twenty dollars, he decided it was worth an impulse buy. The cashier had smiled politely, and asked, ‘You an Aladdin fan, then?’ ‘Of course. It was one of our first VCRs – my brother and I watched it until it practically wore out.’ ‘Well, if you get your three wishes, remember where your good fortune came from, hm?’ They chuckled, and Alec had left in a distracted haze of nostalgia.

Now he’s finally home, he sits down at the kitchen table, and unwraps his treasure. The lamp is small, only about the size of a single-serving teapot, and it’s a little grubby, which is probably the reason it was such a steal. But under the dirt, the design is beautiful – the brass is mostly covered in blue enamel, detailed with an ornate sweep of jasmine vines from handle to spout on both sides. Once it’s cleaned up a bit, it’ll look lovely on the mantlepiece. Curious, he tries to rub some of the grime away with his thumb; and then he nearly drops the lamp when the friction unexpectedly reverberates around the base of it. Some sort of structural damage?, he wonders, but when he turns it around, there isn’t anything visible from the outside. Perhaps if he lifts the lid – but he abruptly finds he can’t lift the lid. Closer inspection reveals the problem; there’s an almost imperceptible layer of white wax, firmly attaching the lid to the main body of the lamp.

He was going to focus on cleaning it up, but if there’s some sort of crack on the inside, he doesn’t want to risk applying pressure in the wrong place and damaging the lamp. Instead, he finds a toothpick, and gets to work scratching away the wax seal.

The last piece breaks away, and Alec lifts the lid. His vision is immediately obscured, and he’s choking on a cloud of bright purple smoke – and before he can begin to worry about what sort of toxic shit this thing could have been loaded with, he nearly jumps out of his skin, because an unfamiliar voice says, ‘Finally.’

He leaps to his feet, standing in the kitchen doorway, unable to tear his gaze away as the smoke coalesces into a figure. And when that figure – a tall, lean, incredibly hot man decked out in silver jewellery, and colourful silks, and dramatic eyeliner around his golden eyes – turns to face him, Alec’s pretty sure his heart stops for a few seconds. ‘Ah!’ the man says, his eyes glowing as he flashes Alec a brilliant smile. ‘I suppose I have you to thank for my freedom?’ Alec can’t reply – he’s not sure he knows what language is at this precise moment in time – but the man seems undeterred, extending a hand. ‘I’m Magnus.’

Alec finds his voice then – but rather than anything intelligent, like Izzy put you up to this, didn’t she?, or at least semi-intelligent, like You’re welcome. I’m Alec, what comes out is a hoarse whisper: ‘What the fuck?’

The man – Magnus – frowns, and steps closer, freezing when Alec scrambles backwards with a frantic cry of, ‘No, no no no – just – don’t – Don’t come any closer.’ Magnus raises his hands in surrender. ‘It’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you,’ he says, in the same soothing tone Alec once used on that cat he found cowering under a dumpster. ‘I just think you ought to take a seat before you fall over.’

And maybe this man is a stranger, an intruder, but Alec is feeling a little woozy right now, and good advice is good advice. ‘Yeah.’ He swallows. ‘Yeah, that’s – that’s probably…’ He stumbles over to the couch, falling onto it more than sitting. His eyes stay fixed on Magnus as he wanders over, keeping his movements slow, taking a seat in the armchair opposite Alec. After a few seconds, Magnus tilts his head as if carefully considering the man in front of him, and waves a hand. ‘Here. Drink this, it should steady your nerves.’ A glass of amber liquid appears on the table in front of Alec, and he just stares at it; first in bewilderment, and then suspicion. Magnus seems to understand – though at this point, Alec’s not ruling out genuine psychic abilities – because he rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh, even as his face twitches in amusement. ‘It’s not poisoned, dear. That would be an awfully inconvenient way to do you harm. Not to mention extremely rude – as I said before, I’m fairly certain I owe you my freedom.’

Alec takes the glass in a slightly trembling hand, and downs it a lot faster than he probably should. He’s not much of a drinker, usually, but these are somewhat exceptional circumstances. Magnus gives a satisfied nod, and sits forward a little. ‘Okay, good. Now, here’s the rundown: No, you’re not going crazy. No, you’ve not been dosed with a particularly effective hallucinogen. And no, this is not an elaborate practical joke pulled by your sibling, partner, or best friend.’ ‘Who are you?’ Alec asks, and feels his face flush. At some point, he hopes to start talking in more than just blunt, three- or four-word sentences. Magnus laughs. ‘I told you, I’m Magnus. However, what I suspect you’re trying to avoid asking is what I am. Very polite of you…’ He raises an eyebrow. Alec starts, realising he’s being prompted. ‘Uh – Alec.’ ‘Alec.’ Magnus smiles. ‘And in answer to your question, I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I am, being as everyone and their cat appears to have seen that hack-job of a film Disney put together in the nineties.’ He shudders in exaggerated distaste. ‘So, you’re… you’re actually…’ ‘A genie,’ Magnus confirms.

Alec digests that for a moment. ‘So, what, someone put that wax seal on to trap you?’ He’s not sure why his brain has leapt to that question, exactly – but hey, at least he managed a proper sentence this time. Magnus grimaces. ‘No. Unfortunately, that was me.’ He snaps his fingers, and the lamp appears in his hands. ‘It gets awfully inconvenient having a fully detachable lid, and I was tired of misplacing it. Everything was going swimmingly, until I decided to visit the seafront.’ He waves his hand again, and there’s a dull flash of blue light. Alec blinks, and suddenly the lamp is free of all the grime that covered it earlier, and Magnus is holding up a small, round stone. ‘This is the culprit. It fell into the spout, effectively sealing me inside. Don’t get me wrong, I like it in there – I’ve had centuries to get it set up perfectly – but it’s nice to get out of the house every once in a while, wouldn’t you agree?’ Alec watches as Magnus squashes the stone in between his thumb and forefinger, flicking away the resulting dust. ‘How long were you stuck in there?’ he asks. ‘That depends. What year is it?’ ‘Twenty-nineteen.’ ‘Oh, good!’ Magnus beams. ‘I’ve barely missed a couple of years, then. Excellent news. I knew it didn’t feel like I’d hit the decade mark, but you never can be sure.’ Alec isn’t sure what to say to that, and so he just nods, turning his empty glass in his hands as Magnus levels a curious stare at him. ‘I must say, Alexander, you’re taking this remarkably well.’

Alec laughs, sharp and surprised. ‘Yeah, well, I’m only forty percent convinced that I’m awake right now.’ ‘Good point.’ Magnus sits back in his chair. ‘So, as for that favour I owe you – assuming you’re awake, and this is real, which you are and it is, by the way – will the usual do? Three wishes, excepting any feats of necromancy or wish-inflation?’ ‘I – uh – yeah, I mean, that works for me.’ He frowns, suddenly worried. ‘Do I have to make them all now?’ ‘I mean, you can, but you’ve had something of an intense evening already,’ Magnus says, a teasing lilt to his words. ‘I can wait a while.’ ‘I don’t want to hold you up, if you’ve got places to be-‘ Magnus raises an eyebrow. ‘I’ve lived for nearly eight centuries, Alec. I can afford to stick around for a week or two to return a favour. Of course, that’s providing you don’t mind me staying put for a while.’ ‘I… I don’t mind, but I don’t have a spare room,’ he says. Magnus smirks, fixing Alec with a look that makes it hard to breathe again for a moment. ‘We could always share,’ he says suggestively. Alec opens his mouth to protest, or something, but no sound comes out. Magnus laughs, apparently taking pity on him. ‘I’m joking, Alexander. Even I’m not that forward. But don’t worry about the room, I’m quite happy in the lamp.’ He looks around the room, assessing, then snaps his fingers in a gesture that declares: aha! ‘This should do nicely,’ he says, placing the lamp in pride of place on the mantelpiece, in between Izzy’s graduation photo and the golden mantel clock left to Alec by his grandmother. He turns back, gesturing to his lamp as if displaying a piece of art. ‘What do you think?’ Alec smiles. ‘Actually, that’s perfect. Exactly where I planned to put it when I bought it.’ Magnus claps his hands, looking delighted. ‘Excellent. Well,’ he says, giving a little mock-bow, ‘goodnight, Alexander. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.’ ‘You sure?’ Alec asks, and he feels himself go red yet again at Magnus’ quizzical look. ‘I just mean – you’ve been stuck in there for a while. You sure you’re okay heading back in so soon?’

Magnus looks stunned for a moment, before his expression softens into a smile. It’s warmer, more genuine, than any smile he’s put on so far, and Alec’s heart skips a beat at how beautiful it makes him look. ‘You’re very considerate, Alexander,’ he says softly. ‘But yes, I’m sure. Like I say, I like my lamp – it’s home, after all. It was only the frustration of being stuck in there I didn’t like. Now that I’m free to come and go, I’ll be absolutely fine.’ Alec nods, and Magnus waves his hands, conjuring a gentle light as he begins to melt into smoke once more. ‘It’s late – you should get some rest, too,’ he says, and then there’s only that purple smoke, which is rapidly drawn back through the spout into the lamp.

And Alec is alone in his apartment again.

He drags a hand down his face, yawning widely. It seems that Magnus is full of good advice, because sleep sounds like an excellent plan. He wonders if he ought to worry about leaving a stranger unattended in his home; but Magnus is a genie, an all-powerful magical entity, and short of sealing the lamp again – an idea that feels simply repugnant to him, given how grateful Magnus was to be free – it’s not like Alec would be able to stop him if he was inclined to create mischief or mayhem. Somehow, though, he doubts that Magnus will. It might be stupid to trust a magic man you just met after he appeared out of thin air in your kitchen, but Alec’s not sure he cares. Izzy’s always been the smart one, anyway.

He makes his way to bed, and that night, he dreams of flying over city lights on a magic carpet, next to a figure he can’t quite make out – except for their warm, beautiful smile.

~oOo~

[its-flicked-switch]

It Can Be

Teen and Up | 2.8k

While on a stakeout, a burning question is asked leading to unexpected revelations and a conversation that is long overdue. Set mid to late S6.

This story was written for the X-Files Secret Summer Fanfic Exchange (2019) created and orchestrated by OnlyTheInevitable\\ @gaycrouton.

Prompt: "I'm ok with twists or turns, fluff or angst, but true to characters."

A gift to Pstafford3 (Twitter)

Beta by: @kikocrystalball and @admiralty-xfd

"Well, you need a father, of course. I can get you genetic counseling on finding an anonymous donor if that's what you want... unless you already have someone in mind."

"Yeah... I, uh... I just have to figure out how to ask him."

Flashback in 8x13 — Per Manum

|| 2 days later ||

"If Emily had lived … do you think I could have done it? Been a single mother?"

They've been sitting in a car outside of an abandoned warehouse for nearly an hour indulging one of his hunches. Mulder had anticipated catching the third degree for calling her at 2 A.M. on a Saturday morning, but this is not the degree he expected, so he proceeds with caution.

"That's a rather loaded question."

He doesn't say it to be abrasive or to deflect away from the seriousness and vulnerability he hears in her voice. He says it because he's not sure what else to say.

Their interactions following the revelation of her stolen ova have been strained. While Scully hasn't outright ignored him or overtly lashed out at him, she's certainly maintained a respectable distance, keeping her fury and frustration hidden beneath layers of masked professionalism. After their discussion in the elevator, Mulder had braced himself for fire and brimstone, but so far, all he has been afforded is silence, which is far worse.

Two weeks have passed, but the tension is still unbearably high, leading him to believe that she has conferred with several specialists of her own choosing and has now reached the same conclusion he arrived at little over a year ago — the ova are not viable. While he can appreciate her anger, he doubts that she fully grasps his intent in keeping it from her or the depth at which it has eaten away at him.

When he discovered her stolen ova back in 1997, he immediately took them to a specialist to be assessed, and when he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted to hear, he had them sent them to another one. That pattern held for well over six months before he finally relented.

Keeping it from her had been an easy decision to make in the beginning given how gravely ill she was, but as her health returned, his justification in continuing to do so had been more complicated. Ultimately, he had kept it from her out of pure, unadulterated hope. Hope that there was an answer — a different path that he could take that would lead him to something other than the devastating news he currently had: the ova are not viable.

How in the fuck was he supposed to tell her that? On top of everything else, how could he possibly tell her that he had found her ova, but that there was nothing to be done with them? That they were useless? He couldn't even say it to himself in the mirror without becoming physically ill.

If the syndicate possessed the power to cure her cancer, then was it not reasonable to assume that they also possessed the ability to reverse her infertility? Somehow turning unviable ova into something viable? It didn't seem any less likely than curing incurable cancer.

Scully was the scientist, not him. Yet, the leading experts in the field had already told him that he was wasting his time and money looking for alternatives and storing ova that were not viable. Within a year, he was convinced that there was nothing conventional that could be done and was unable to stomach telling Scully that the fate of her ability to conceive a child of her own making would rest in the hands of the same monsters who had taken that right from her to begin with.

He valued his partnership with Scully more than anything, and he would move mountains or die trying before he would ever hurt her. And this news — this secret, would undoubtedly hurt her, so instead of telling her the truth, he had kept it from her and continued to search for solutions on his own with the hope that when the time came, he would have an answer. But in the blink of an eye, weeks turned into months and months into years, and still, there had been no resolution, conventional or otherwise.

And then came Emily.

Emily's sudden appearance changed everything. She was living proof that Scully's ova had been viable at one point, or that perhaps, out of all those extracted, he had just been unlucky enough to grab the one vial that was useless.

That was the other issue. Telling Scully the truth would require another harmful and devastating admission. There were more out there, and they were currently unaccounted for. When he returned to the research facility to retrieve the other vials, they were gone, either removed or destroyed, and there was no way to determine which since the facility had been burned to the ground.

The matter was further complicated by his degree of uncertainty with regards to her current medical status and the nature and permanency of the effects of the experimentation that was performed. While it was clear that they had taken a substantial amount of Scully's reproductive material, it was unclear if they had taken everything. Had what was in that drawer been a representation of everything they had taken? Or had there been more stored elsewhere? Had the extraction left her completely barren? Or had it merely ensured that it would be difficult for her to conceive naturally? If so, did she know?

Seeing her with Emily had only deepened his despair. He should have told her about the ova then. Hell, he should have told her as soon as she returned to work, months before Emily ever came into the picture, but he continued to hold back, having convinced himself that all he needed was more time. But all of that changed two weeks ago when he found Scully standing in a daze on the elevator. In that moment, every argument and justification he had ever made crumbled.

He couldn't keep it from her any longer. Not when she had brought it to him directly. She deserved to know the truth, and he had already kept it from her for far longer than he should have.

This is how Mulder came to be the asshole who told his partner about her stolen ova on an elevator.

"So you don't," Scully says, breaking their silence. "You don't think I could have done it."

There's an edge to her voice that makes him inwardly cringe. It comes out matter-of-fact, but Mulder knows better.

"I didn't say that. I just said it was a loaded question," he replies, doing his best to choose his words carefully.

"You either do or don't. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

The bite in her voice is unmistakable. Scully is pissed, and frankly, she has a right to be. He just wishes that he could find a way to articulate his intentions to her. While he's well aware of the fact that he can be a certified asshole, he would never do anything to intentionally harm her, and he knows that underneath all of the anger and hurt, she knows that.

Everything he has done, he has done to protect her.

"Scully—"

"I asked you to back me up … to testify on my behalf and you did, but there was … hesitancy there. From both you and my family."

"I can't speak for your family, Scully. I can only speak for myself, but you're right, I did have reservations … but none of them had anything to do with you or your ability to parent or raise a child."

"Then—"

"Three years after your abduction, a child shows up with your DNA. I was questioning the validity of it and what it could mean, especially in light of what I knew they had taken from you. Had the circumstances been different, I would have been happy for you … elated even, but instead I was terrified … for you and for her … and at the same time I was furious."

"Furious?"

"They took something from you that they had no right to take … something that was yours to give to a person of your choosing. And Emily? She didn't deserve … no child deserves to be a pawn in someone else's game. I know that better than most."

The silence that ensues is thick, but instead of letting it hang, Mulder presses forward.

"I just had a feeling … a feeling that it wasn't real."

"She was real, Mulder, and she was mine."

"Yet she wasn't. She bled green."

She doesn't argue with him on this point because she can't, but she's clearly not pleased with him for making it to begin with.

"I shouldn't have kept this from you, Scully. I know that, and I'm sorry."

"Yet you did it anyway. For almost two years."

"You've never asked me why."

"Because it doesn't matter. You had no right."

"It does matter. It matters a lot."

"Okay. I'll bite. Why, Mulder? Why did you think that keeping me in the dark about MY OWN genetic material was a good call for YOU to make? Were you afraid that I would break down and check myself into a psychiatric ward? Or was keeping it from me more about your impending fear of me leaving you alone to chase monsters in the dark?"

The heat radiating off of her body and venom in her voice startles him into silence.

This is the reaction he anticipated two weeks ago, but the anticipation hasn't diminished its impact. It would be easy in this moment to give it right back to her and let his rising pulse predominate, giving her the fight she's clearly looking for, but he won't. If she wants to be angry, that is certainly her right, but she is at least going to have all of the facts straight first.

"Do you honestly believe, after everything that we've been through, that I would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you, Dana?"

The use of her given name is intentional. It's a quiet, subtle ceasefire, and the effect it has is immediate. As soon as it rolls off of his tongue, she stills, the fire in her eyes dissipating as her attention shifts. Holding her gaze, he lets the silence that follows hang, cooling the air around them before he continues.

"The look of devastation that crossed your face … I would have done anything in the world to keep that look off of your face, so yes, I kept it from you. I consulted every credentialed doctor and accredited research facility in the country and refused to let them destroy them despite being told repeatedly that they weren't viable. I wanted to find a solution, even if it wasn't a conventional one … so that one day, when I did tell you, it wouldn't be the news I have now. Keeping this from you was wrong, and you have every right to be angry but don't think for a single second that it didn't weigh on me, because it did. It still does."

The silence that follows is heavy, the intensity of the moment driving Scully to avert her eyes. The fire that filled them earlier has fled, making way for the emotions brewing underneath. She's hurt, devastated even, and now, she's trying desperately not to cry.

Pulling his handkerchief out his pocket, he hands it to her and waits, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything else at all.

At this point, it's clear that this stakeout is a bust, but he doesn't want to make it more awkward or break the moment by starting the car and pulling away. Instead, he fixes his eyes ahead, giving her a bit of privacy as the light of dawn begins to creep up over the horizon.

"You still haven't answered my question," she says after a few moments have passed.

Her voice is low, but the tone she sets requires no translation. Scully is a woman of action, so the fact that she has returned to her original question is her concession. While she may not like or agree with what he has kept from her, she has forgiven him.

"If you're asking me if I think that you would be a good mother, then the answer is yes," Mulder replies.

The lack of hesitancy in his response appears to surprise her, shifting her gaze back to his.

"Then why the—"

"You asked specifically about being a single mother," he replies evenly.

"Yes, and?"

Sighing, Mulder shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how much more he should say if anything at all.

"Well, I just don't see that as being an issue, and I'm not saying that because I think you are incapable of doing it alone."

"They why are you saying it?"

"Scully … look … I …," he says, taking a deep breath. "I already feel like I'm six feet under, I don't want to say anything to make it worse."

"That ship has already sailed, so you might as well just say it."

Sighing and regarding her cautiously, he relents and says what's on his mind. If she wants an honest answer, he will give her one. Given all he has kept from her over the past two years, he owes her that much.

"It's just … you have too much to offer someone else to be forced down that road alone."

Of all the things she expected to come out of his mouth, this was clearly not one of them. The blush rising in her cheeks does little to hide her surprise at his admission. He would feel more guilty for making her uncomfortable if she didn't look so radiant. Even with minimal sleep and tear stained eyes, she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. That much hasn't changed in the six years he's known her.

"Look," he says, returning his focus back to the warehouse. "All I'm saying is that if raising a child is something you want to do, then there is absolutely no reason for you do it alone unless you just want to."

"Mulder, I haven't been asked out on a date in years."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's true."

"Men can be idiots."

To this, he receives no argument, only a ghost of a snort as Scully relaxes more deeply into her seat.

"Well, then, I guess all the men currently in my life are idiots."

"Guilty as charged," he says, raising his hands into the air.

Their soft laughter echoes in the car briefly before again returning them into silence, but unlike the silences that preceded them, this one is comfortable. Mulder knows he should quit while he is ahead, but he can't.

"You're a lethal combination, Scully. Not all men can handle that."

"Lethal combination?"

"Stunning and intelligent. Typically, you get one or the other … both are… well, a bit rare and can be a bit intimidating."

Scully doesn't say anything in response, but the pink hue rising up through her neck and into her cheeks warns him that he's teetering dangerously close to the edge. He doesn't want to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable, but he also wants her to know that he does see her, not just as a partner but as a woman. A woman who has a tremendous amount to offer, little of which has anything to do with her reproductive status.

When she doesn't speak, he begins to backpedal a bit, not wanting to end on a note that is upsetting or uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Look, I think you will be an excellent mother with or without a partner, so if that's what you're asking, then that's my answer. Forget the rest."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable Mulder," she says quietly, avoiding his eyes. "It's just … not something I'm used to hearing."

"Hmmm … sounds to me like you need better friends, or maybe just a better partner. One who actually encourages you to get out of the car."

"Mmmm … my partner can certainly be an ass, but he's grown on me. And most of the time, I don't actually mind being in the car."

"And the other times?"

To this, she only smirks, nodding her head in a manner of dismissal and averting her gaze back to the warehouse. When it's clear she's going to let the question hang without answering it, Mulder changes the subject.

"Why … why bring this up?"

He asks the question half expecting her to skirt around it without directly answering it, but she doesn't.

"Because I'm almost 35. There are options out there … I just have to decide whether or not I'm going to take them."

"Well, whatever you decide, you'll have my full support, Scully."

The silence that follows surprises him, causing him to shift his focus back to her and study her expression. What he finds is as intriguing as it is troubling. There's clearly something weighing on her mind. Something she isn't sharing.

"I wish it were that simple."

Reaching out, he takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze.

"It can be."

[eddieeatsass]

“You look so beautiful tied to my bed” reddie (Eddie being the one who’s tied up please

“You look so beautiful tied to my bed.” Richie said lewdly, causing Eddie to roll his eyes.

“Ha Ha, very funny Richard. Now untie me.” Eddie demanded, tugging on the restraints that held his hands above his head.

“How did this even happen?”

“Beverly wanted to try out the new knots she’d learned and your bed is the only one that has a headboard. We were gonna be out of your room before you got home but then Bev heard you come in and dipped.” Eddie growled.

“Well you should be thankful I was kind enough to head your distress calls, otherwise you might have been stuck like this for hoooouuurrrrsssss, all alone, no one to ease the throb in your-”

“Richie.” Eddie deadpanned.

“Okay okay, relax princess.” Richie climbed on to the bed, assessing the intricate ropes that held Eddie’s arms together.

“I just have to... figure out how to... uh...” Richie tried pulling one of the loops experimentally, not getting any slack in return. “Hmm.” He mumbled.

Eddie wiggled uncomfortably, the embarrassment from the situation painting his face pink. Of all the people to find him like this it had to be Richie.

“I’m not gonna lie to you chief, it ain’t looking good.” Richie admitted after fiddling around with the rope for another few minutes.

Eddie sighed, letting it ease into a loud groan.

“Text Bev and tell her to get her ass back here.”

“I didn’t hear a please.” Richie teased.

Eddie glared at his friend, un-amused by their current situation, and even more un-amused by the circumstances for their current situation.

“Please.” Eddie gritted out.

“Of course, my pleasure!” Richie pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quick text, placing it on the bedside table and turning his attention back to Eddie.

“You’re fully taking advantage of my inability to kick your ass right now.” Eddie noted.

“Mmm you might wanna be nicer to me, considering your current predicament.”

“Whatever, can you at least bring me some water while we wait?”

“You keep forgetting the magic word. Didn’t your mom ever teach you manners? She certainly taught me how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ every time we fu- ”

“RICHIE! God you are so insufferable. Can you PLEASE get me some water?”

“There, was that so hard? Of course, baby boy.” Richie froze, the words dying on his tongue too late.

Eddie stared at him in shock, his previously pink face now resembling crimson.

“Shit, I’m... sorry, I-” Richie stumbled over his words, horror evident on his features.

“I’m usually, when people are, uh...” Richie gestured to Eddie’s bound physique. “I’m just used to being in a certain... headspace... when people are tied up.” Richie finished, rushing through his words like ripping off a band-aid.

Eddie swallowed thickly, the words sinking in, until suddenly a laugh bubbled up between them. Eddie tried to hold it in but it slipped out of his mouth, alerting Richie to his sudden reaction.

“Wha- are you laughing at me?”

“No! No, I’m-” Eddie’s laughter got progressively less restrained as he tried to respond. “I’m having a hard time picturing you in a dominating role.”

Eddie let the laughter consume him, tears pooling in his eyes.

“Oh, yes, Daddy! Tell me another yo momma joke!” Eddie heightened his voice, mimicking someone in the throws of sex.

Richie’s face switch in an instant, Eddie unaware of the trigger that his chosen word had in his friend.

“Actually, my partners aren’t usually talking. Screaming, though, now that’s to be expected.”

Eddie’s laughs died out quickly, his eyes widening under Richie’s intensity. He’d never seen Richie so serious about something before, not a single hint of humor behind his tone. Eddie wanted to deny the stir it caused in his stomach, but he couldn’t ignore it.

“Baby boy seems to fit you.” Richie continued. “Do you like it when I call you that, hmmm baby boy?” Richie traced a single finger down Eddie’s cheek, the touch tauntingly light.

Eddie was still reeling from this new Richie, his answer an automatic nod.

“Use your words.” Richie urged.

“Y-yes.” Eddie whispered. The stirring in his stomach had grown into something much more lively, a hum that traveled through his entire body. He felt his cock responding to the atmosphere and tried to coax it down.

“Okay then, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m gonna show you just how serious I can be, and if you want me to stop at any point, you just say the word ‘Red’. Can you do that for me?”

Eddie nodded once again, catching himself halfway through and switching to an audible ‘yes’. Richie seemed pleased that Eddie was catching on to his rules.

Richie shifted on the bed so he was kneeling between Eddie’s legs, his fingers already teasing at the waistline of his jeans.

“I’m going to take these off, okay?” Richie asked, looking at Eddie for consent to continue.

“Yes.” Eddie repeated, the word becoming lighter in his mouth.

Richie unbuttoned his pants, sliding the denim down Eddie’s legs and placing it on the mattress behind him.

Eddie was wearing a pair of Mickey Mouse boxer briefs. Richie stared at the smiling mouse printed all over the red fabric that hugged Eddie’s body, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Richie let out a long breath, dropping his head for a moment before muttering under his breath.

“So fucking cute.”

As if the utter cuteness of Eddie’s underwear choice would be distracting, Richie was quick to dispose of those as well, leaving Eddie completely nude from the waist down.

It was an odd sensation, being so vulnerable in front of one of his best friends, but it felt natural as well. A part of Eddie had always figured they’d end up here one day, these just weren’t the circumstances he thought they’d be under.

Richie gazed back up at Eddie, after giving him a gracious once over.

“Feeling nervous, baby boy?” Richie asked, nodding towards Eddie’s cock which was only at half mast. If he was being honest, his nerves had been holding him back from enjoying this as much as he could.

“No.” Eddie lied.

“Don’t lie to me.” Richie’s voice stayed level, just a simple request.

Eddie averted his eyes.

“Okay, a little.”

“Will this help you loosen up?” Richie asked, as he grasped Eddie’s cock in a firm, warm grip and gave it a tug.

Eddie whimpered on instinct, the contact flooding him with relief. Yes, yes that will definitely loosen him up.

“I like that noise.” Richie purred.

Eddie could feel himself getting harder every second; the combination of Richie’s expert hands, deep voice, and dirty comments all working together to leave Eddie light headed.

Eddie was at full mast in no time, the pink head of his cock winking up at Richie with a little weep of pre-cum.

Richie leaned forward slowly, locking eyes with Eddie before darting out his tongue and lapping at the taste.

Eddie shivered, unable to detach his line of sight from where Richie was connected to him.

“Eddie, you’ve been holding out on me. If I’d known you were this sweet, I’d have been doing this years ago.”

Eddie blushed as his mind supplied an answer, I hope you’ll be doing this for years to come.

He managed to bite back his response, instead giving Richie another moan as he delved down to the base of Eddie’s cock, enveloping it in the warmth of his mouth.

Richie was clearly experienced, knowing exactly where to lick and suck to drive Eddie wild. It was overwhelming, Eddie’s mind was buzzing, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out at this pace.

Richie pulled off, sucking down the underside of Eddie’s shaft and sucking one of his balls into his mouth. It was unlike anything Eddie had ever felt before. His hips lifted from the bed, a small cry accompanying the movement. He felt Richie chuckle around his sensitive skin and move over to the other ball.

Eddie tried to move his arms, wanting to thread them through Richie’s hair, but was reminded of his restrictions when they were tugged back. Eddie whimpered sadly.

“What’s wrong baby?” Richie was up immediately, responding to Eddie’s discouraged sound.

Eddie tugged on his wrists again, causing Richie’s own face to fall.

“Want to touch you...” Eddie whispered bashfully.

“I’m sorry, Bev.” Richie uttered as he leapt off the bed and darted over to his dresser. He fished around in the top drawer before jolting back to Eddie’s side, holding a small shiny object. A pocket knife.

“Hold still.” Richie instructed, before carefully slipping the cold blade beneath the rope. It pressed into Eddie’s skin, not uncomfortably, but as a reminder that he’d soon be free. A few slices later the rope was falling in pieces around Eddie’s wrists, his arms immediately flying to Richie without warning.

Richie laughed, pushing him back down with a hand to his chest.

He maneuvered back to his original position, all the while Eddie’s hands touching every part of him he could reach. It was endearing, so endearing that Richie couldn’t help but lace his fingers with Eddie’s before getting back to his task at hand.

After that it wasn’t long before Eddie was coming undone, screaming (as Richie had foretold) while emptying into his mouth.

Seconds later the door to Richie’s room was flying open.

“ARE YOU OKAY WHAT’S HAP- OH MY GOD.”

A traumatized Beverly stood in the doorway, hands now glued to her eyes as her face deepened to match her hair.

“What the fuck guys!? You tell me there’s an emergency and I open the front door to the sound of SCREAMING! I thought you’d needed to amputate Eddie’s hands or something!”

Richie had doubled over laughing the instant Beverly barreled into his room. Eddie, on the other hand, was hastily pulling on his clothes.

“You can open your eyes now.” Eddie mumbled when he’d finally situated his jeans back in place.

Beverly peeked one eye open through parted fingers, a relieved sigh escaping her chest as she let her hands fall. Though that relief subsided instantly when she eyed her bondage rope laying in pieces.

“I’ll buy you new rope, I promise.” Richie offered, sensing her disappointment. Moving his gaze to Eddie, he let his voice drop so only he could hear.

“It was worth it.” He winked.

[galaxystiel]

100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #90

“You can tell me anything.”

Summary: Five times Castiel bares his scars to Dean, and one time Dean returns the favour. 9.8k

Many thanks to @envydean and @jimminovak for helping me talk through this and giving me ideas. This originally went in a completely different direction.

1.

“Great,” Officer Dean Winchester muttered as it began to rain. “This is all your fault, Benny, you know that right?”

“How’d you figure that one, brother? I ain’t exactly in charge of the weather. If I was, I’d make damn sure I’d be wealthier than I am.” His partner looked affronted.

“Oh yeah, don’t give me that ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ crap. You were all like ‘I miss Louisiana, Kansas is too dry for these old Bayou bones, I need a bit of rainfall every now and again.”

Benny folded his arms, pursing his lips at the terrible impression of his accent. “And I stand by that assessment but that don’t mean I wanted to chill my ‘Bayou bones’ to the core while I’m on duty. If anythin’ this is your fault, Mr. I-Don’t-Want-To-Leave-My-Precious-Car-On-The-Street-So-Let’s-Walk-From-Here. Now we have to trek back to the damn car in torrential downpour.”

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He did pick up the pace though, not wanting to be caught in the rain any longer than he had to. Rounding the corner, his gaze fell on a dark shape huddled up against one of the buildings. He caught Benny’s eyes and gestured with a nod of his head.

“I’m gonna move him on, he can’t stay out here in this. He’s not even under shelter.”

Benny murmured his agreement, sympathy evident in his tone. He hung back as Dean approached the bundle of clothes, clicking on his torch.

“Sir? You can’t stay out here. C’mon, I’ll buy you a coffee and we’ll find you a shelter for tonight.”

No response. Dean’s gaze sharpened as the homeless man didn’t even acknowledge his words. He edged closer, squinting through the heavy rainfall to the unresponsive man and then shrugging back at his partner.

“Sir? Can you hear me? Is everything okay?”

Dean crouched, the light illuminating startling blue eyes that were staring flatly at the wall, tears mingling with raindrops. Against his common sense, Dean felt his heart soften for the poor soul that had found himself in such an awful position. When he’d grown up, Dean had Sam and the Impala. He’d never been truly homeless and he’d never been so alone that he’d had nobody to turn to.

It was empathy that overpowered his common sense as he reached out, grasping the man on the shoulder.

The reaction was instant and violent, and the man lashed out. Dean saw a glint of silver in the light of his torch followed by a stinging sensation in his arm.

“Fuck,” he hissed, stepping back and going for his gun. “Knife!”

Benny charged forward, his own weapon drawn, but he followed Dean’s next command not to shoot.

Before Dean could give any further commands, clarity returned to the blue eyes. He looked at the knife and at the guns and then tossed it aside quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I didn’t mean to. I… I’m sorry.”

Benny scoffed. “Sure you didn’t. Get on your knees with your hands behind your head and don’t even twitch. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” The man whispered, flinching as the handcuffs circled his wrists. “My pack…”

“I got him.” Dean assured Benny. “Search the pack. Check for contraband.”

Benny went through the pack. There was nothing of interest, no drugs or contraband. Just a few hastily packed items of clothing and a wallet. He plucked the ID from the wallet, looking at it for a moment.

“Castiel Novak. That you?”

The homeless man nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

“This your address?”

Dean noted the immediate tension wracked through Castiel’s body and the way his jaw clenched as he shook his head. He immediately wanted to know more about who lived in that house now. “No. I don’t have an address.” He closed his mouth and refused to say anything else, refused to answer any more questions and stood stiffly through a pat down. He didn’t speak again until he was bundled into the back seat of the car.

“I really am sorry. I know that doesn’t change anything. I never meant to hurt you. I… I wasn’t even aware you were there until you touched me.”

“You don’t like to be touched?”

“No,” Castiel replied flatly. “Not any more.”

Dean let Benny drive them back to the precinct, while he cleaned out the wound on his arm, treating and dressing the wound as carefully as he could. It was shallow, not more than a scratch really. Even so, he couldn’t stop his gaze from flickering to the back seat as he kept a close eye on Castiel.

Castiel was handed off to custody once they got back to the precinct, and Dean and Benny both went to shower and change into clean clothes. Plain clothes, since they’d finished their beat and were now officially off-duty. Dean brushed off any objections Benny raised about his arm and made for his desk and soon as he was able, clutching an evidence bag containing Castiel’s ID as he looked up the address.

He read through the page silently, barely noticing when Benny dropped into the opposite chair that served as his own desk.

“It’s knockin’ off time. You know, the time I go home to my beautiful wife and you go to the hospital.” Benny told him pointedly. “Novak will spend a night in the cells and he’ll be processed in the morning. You can give your statement tomorrow.”

“I’m not pressing charges,” Dean mumbled. “He was clearly frightened out of his mind. Did you hear how much he kept apologising?”

Benny folded his arms and glared. “Well shit, that makes it all better. I must have missed the part of the academy where they taught us an apology negates a crime. I can’t even believe I’m hearing this. He had a knife, Dean. A knife! Nobody who carries a blade like that is carrying it for a good reason.”

“I don’t agree. Look at this,” Dean turned his monitor around to show Benny the screen. “I searched for the address on his driver’s licence. Seventeen times the neighbours have called 911 for suspected domestic abuse. And that’s just in the last six months. There are dozens more. The guy was freaking the hell out because he thought this asshole boyfriend or whatever was coming after him. Read it, and then come join me in the interview room.”

He paused to get two cups of coffee from the machine, walking into the interview room. There was a spark of recognition in Castiel’s eyes before he averted his gaze.

“I feel like this is a conflict of interest.”

“It would be if I were pressing charges,” Dean replied conversationally, setting the coffees down. “That one has milk, that one has sugar. I’ll take whichever you don’t.”

Castiel hesitated for a moment and then reached for the one with sugar. “Thank you.” As his hands grasped the paper cup, Dean noticed slivers of silver around his fingers.

“How’d you get those scars?”

Pausing, Castiel spent a moment lightly sweeping his thumb over one of the larger scars and then he shrugged. “I used to be a chef. Knives are sharp. It happens.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You were a chef? Of what, your own restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to it?”

“Nothing. It’s still there.”

Dean leaned back against the chair with a sigh. It was like getting blood from a stone. “This will go a lot smoother if you just answer my questions. I’m not trying to trick you, I want to understand your circumstances before you got to where you are now.”

Castiel fixed him with a long gaze and then eventually nodded. “Very well. I handed over the reins to my sous chef indefinitely.”

“What prompted you to make that choice? It seems like something you enjoyed, you’re still touching the scars on your fingers.”

Hands stilling at being caught out, Castiel took a moment to reply. “So I could spend more time with my partner.”

“And was that your choice?”

The tension was back. Castiel’s hands clenched into fists and he struggled to fight back a reply to that. It took a moment for him to relax and his hands to unfurl. Eventually he reached for the coffee again to give his hands something to do, taking a sip and cradling the cup.

“I suppose that depends on how you look at it,” Castiel replied eventually, his voice tight. “I made the decision, but is it really a choice when it’s the only option? You must be an excellent detective, to have me all figured out so quickly.”

Ah. Dean shook his head, trying to placate the angering man in front of him. “Not at all. Like I said, I’m trying to understand your situation. Context is everything.”

“You can try to make sense of my situation all you like, Officer, but not everything fits neatly into a box.”

It was possible that Castiel would have gotten more hostile at the line of questioning, but the door opened and Benny stepped inside, interrupting anything either of them might have said. He settled down across from Castiel clutching his own cup of coffee, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You were pretty out of it when it when we found you. Checked out mentally, almost. You on any medication? Prescription or otherwise.”

“No.”

“But you are living on the streets.”

“Yes.”

“Nowhere else to go? Nobody you can turn to?”

“No.”

“Everyone has someone.”

Castiel hesitated. “Gabriel. He’s the sous chef at my restaurant. He would let me stay with him if I asked but… I can’t. It’s not a matter of pride, it’s a matter of my safety. And his.”

Benny’s eyes lost the last of their suspicion at Castiel’s words and he gave a brief nod towards Dean. “Get yourself home, brother. I’ll take care of this.” He turned to Castiel, who was clutching at his coffee cup as if it might be taken away from him. “You’re free to go.”

“Just like that?”

“You can collect your belongings from the front, minus the knife. I’ll make sure you get some bus fare and the address of a shelter somewhere in town.”

Dean lingered in the doorway of the interview room, wanting to say something. It didn’t feel right to leave it like this. Castiel was in need of help, and they were just going to send him back onto the streets. Shelter’s filled up on a first come first serve basis and it was already late. But Castiel was already on his feet, drinking the last of his coffee and Dean ducked out of the way, letting him through.

He watched Benny lead him to the custody reception and felt a sense of conflict within himself. This didn’t feel like doing his duty at all. This felt like failure.

Dean sighed and trudged back to the locker room to collect the rest of his belongings. A couple of beers and he’d feel better.

[Read the rest on AO3]

[Buy me a coffee?]

[Masterpost]

[raistorm]

Blake leaned heavily on the wall of the dust mine, panting. A group of haggard-looking faunus drifted behind her like ghosts, emaciated and exhausted, but their eyes glimmered in the rays of sunlight coming from the entrance of the cave. Her infiltration mission was a success, however, not without cost. She lifted the edge of her sleeve to reveal an oozing wound.

The letters SDC seared wetly into her shoulder.

Huffing, she pushed forward. There was a greenish tinge to the flesh. It wasn’t healing correctly and that, coupled with lack of food and water made her lightheaded, feverish. Her body trembled as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She thought of Yang… smiling at her, waiting for her. Blake felt the hair on her arms rise. It urged to her take the final steps. To free these faunus from the clutches of this cruel labor camp and get back to Yang. 

She’d made a promise, after all.

Her foot caught on a rock, and she stumbled with a cry of pain, scraping her knees. One of the group behind her shuffled to her aid. It was the crocodile faunus, Nilotai, his eyes the thinnest slits in the light, a light that he hadn’t seen in so long. He was strong, though, and slung her arm over his shoulder to lift her back up.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, kid,” he said, gruffly. Blake smiled, but that’s all she had the energy to do. She looked up once more and continued up. They were so close. Her breath became shallow with anticipation.

“Halt!” The click of guns stopped them in their tracks. Red lights. “Put your hands where we can see them! Now!”

The guards.

No. Of course they wouldn’t have left an exit to the mines unprotected. Blake cursed and slammed her hand against the rock, ignoring the fresh coat of blood pooling around her fingers.

She glanced behind her, the fear palpable in the group she’d just liberated. There were only three men standing between them and freedom, but they were fully armed with Atlas tech and fresh for a confrontation. While there were a dozen faunus behind her, they were in no condition to fight, so she wasn’t to keen on their chances of survival, much less escape.

A breath left her chest, contemplating defeat. She was so tired. They were so close. She didn’t want to die here, not after all that she’d survived over the years. It couldn’t just end.

Slowly, and with great effort, she lifted her hands in surrender. Murmurs of panic grew in volume behind her.

There was a tense moment of contemplation within the group, do they surrender with their leader? Or die? Some began to raise their hands, but others grew angry and began to fidget.

A blast from the entrance shook Blake from her defeat. She looked up to see gold.

“What—“

“Who’re yo— AH!”

The clank of Atlas armor and screaming jolted their attention. Blake squinted against the light.

It was Yang.

Her hair ablaze and eyes aglow with wrath.

Time slowed as Blake watched as Yang flung her fists wildly, in a flurry, at the guards. There was no finesse or grace in her movements. The terrible sound of gunshots and bones crunching and screams meant she wasn’t pulling her punches, either. Desperation and fear burned those red eyes, burning with the need to find her partner.

To find Blake.

After only a few rattling seconds, the last guard fell to the dirt, unconscious, bleeding.

“Yang!” cried Blake. Her voice, a dry rasp, bounced off the walls of the mine, and when Yang’s eyes snapped to the sound, the red seeped out of them like tears, her shoulders falling in utter relief.

“B-Blake…” she said, panting, sweating. Bruises and blood and grime and sweat covered her face, her clothes. How long had she been fighting, searching for her? She took a few shaky steps down into the darkness, speeding up with each step. She couldn’t see Blake but she knew that voice and she pushed herself into the shadows, knowing, believing it was her.

Blake pushed herself from Nilotai’s support and rushed forward, using her last bit of strength to get to Yang, the light. The burning light. She reached out for those arms and nearly collapsed in Yang, who was ready for her despite being unable to see.

When their bodies crashed together so did their lips, searing in desperation and exhaustion and relief and finally. Yang held her up, tears and blood wetting Blake’s face as Blake sank deeper into Yang, safe. Finally safe. Their hearts pounded against against each other as they realized what they were doing. It was breathless instinct. It was unrefined and reactionary. Teeth and tongues and lips mashed together, chaotic and agonizing and wildly full of confessions held secret for so long.

It was necessary.

When they pulled apart they were practically gasping for air, tears streaming down their cheeks. Yang placed her hand on Blake’s face with a smile, crooked with joy and love and pride and concern and fear. Full of I found you.

Blake leaned into the touch before her body gave way. The pain and sickness and thirst and hunger were finally too much. Yang eased her to the ground, and immediately began to assess to damage on Blake’s unconscious body.

Nilotai approached them. “The brand is infected, she needs medical attention… now.”

Yang snapped her eyes to him. “Brand?”

The faunus kneeled beside them, slowly, as if afraid any sudden movements would spark anger or violence. He just saw what the woman in front of him was capable of, and what she was about to see would be… well.

He lifted Blake’s sleeve, revealing the nasty, blistering SDC. Yang’s eyes snapped open in a fiery red, but she didn’t say anything. She took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths and nodded her head, contemplating her options. It took a few moments to calm herself, but the matter at hand was turning dire. Her rage would not help Blake right now. The cat in her arms was trembling, fighting invisible forces behind fluttering eyelids.

Yang looped a metal arm under Blake’s knees, and the other across her shoulders, and heaved upward. Nilotai took Blake’s arm and draped it over Yang’s neck for extra support. Yang nodded to him in silent thanks.

“There’s a scroll in my back pocket,” she said. “I need you to call someone for me.”

Nilotai nodded. He looked back to the ragged group behind him.

“After all these years, we’re free,” he said, choking up. He looked at their impromptu leader in the arms of human stranger with some trepidation, but quickly recovered. “Those of you who want to run as soon as possible, may do so at your own risk, I however, will help these two find safety. Those who want to join me, may do so also… at your own risk.”

The faunus glanced among each other, whispering. About half of them rushed to the exit, understandably, and half stayed, eyes ablaze with determination.

“Alright,” he huffed. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

Yang nodded at all of them.

“Thank you.”

—————————————————————————

Ruby and Weiss rushed out of the airship as soon as it landed. It all happened in a blur of shocked faces and reaching hands quickly turning panicked as they realized Blake’s condition. Qrow ushered them all into the airship and Maria took off as soon as Yang and the faunus were settled.

Blake was coming in and out of consciousness. She kept seeing flashes of golden hair and deep purple eyes staring down at her. They looked sad and afraid, but also dreamlike, undulating, drifting around and around. Dizzy, sick feeling. Tired. Too uncomfortable to sleep. Waking up again. Am I dying? Blake kept trying to lift her hand to touch that face and take away the bad expression, but her hands wouldn’t cooperate. She felt hands on her. Cool metal on her forehead brought quick relief to her burning skin. She was so cold at the same time. She trembled and tried her hardest to clutch onto reality.

When she finally woke up, she was in bed. Alive. Feeling coherent and… much better. She glanced around. It was Schnee manor. She started up in confusion and fear, pulling the sheets off in a flurry.

“Blake,” said Yang, who’d been standing guard at the door. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“But,” she started, mind racing with events and circumstances. The faunus! Where was Nilotai? Why was she at Schnee manor of all places? Why was she still in Atlas at all? Why was Yang so calm?

“I know this is a lot, but believe me when I say you’re safe. Qrow contacted Ironwood immediately and through some unorthodox… methods, we’ve tied Jacque’s hands and… arranged for them to give you medical attention. I’ve been watching this room like a hawk. Ruby and Weiss are outside the door,” she said, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “We’ve got everyone else on patrol in this wing of the manor. We’re getting you out of critical condition so we can get out of here. So we can figure out what to do about…” she glanced at Blake’s arm.

Blake’s ears flattened. Her arm was bandaged, but still burning. She wondered if it would ever stop. She tried not to think about it, but flashes of a branded face intruded her mind’s eye. She shook her head.

“What about Nilotai and the rest of the faunus?” Her branding would have been all for nothing if they weren’t safe, too.

Yang’s eyes softened in something she couldn’t quite place.

“Always thinking of others…” Yang said, mostly to herself. “They’re okay. We’re getting them out of here, too.”

Blake released a breath. Thank the gods.

Yang placed a hand on Blake’s, and Blake finally remembered. the exit of the mines, the stark light against the shadows, her body colliding into Yang’s. They’d… or had they? Was it all a part of that damn fever dream? Her face flushed as she looked at Yang, the question burning in her eyes. Yang softened once more and took Blake’s face in her hands before kissing her so gently it felt like a breeze wisping across her lips.

“Yes, that happened,” said Yang, “And it will keep happening… if you want it to.”

Blake’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. The road ahead would be full of pain as long as there were still faunus trapped in Atlas, her people. It was her destiny to become their leader, to free them, to fight. It would take a lifetime. Yang saw this resolve in her partner and vowed to take up the same mantle. Beside her. With her.

“Yes,” Blake nodded. “Yes, Yang.”

They kissed again. This time, with silent vows only they could hear.

Time trembled in front of them.