#be the cure'. the way i sat up when she said that fr fr that's her!!!!!! that's my wife!!!!!!

[theinfinitedivides]

Gil Chae when Ryang Eum walks in: you came at the right time. i was just writing a letter to send back to Joseon

Ryang Eum, visibly excited at these prospects: so you're going back right.

Gil Chae:

Ryang Eum: right

Gil Chae:

Gil Chae:

[hufflefluff-stuff]

hi! i was wondering if you could write how HL characters would act when they are jealous

Yes! Also, I'll add how these characters wind up confessing to their crush! 👍

Characters: Sebastian, Garreth, Ominis, Poppy, & Leander

......

Sebastian Sallow

Let's be fr..this guy gets jealous INSANELY easily in canon, even when platonically speaking.

It's hard to pinpoint where he exactly started catching feelings for you, but he certainly fell for you fast after your adventure into the library's restricted section.

Unfortunately, because of your growing reputation as a "hero" around Hogwarts, Hogsmede, and other hamlets...you've have strangers and students alike often come up to you and interrupt your conversations with Sebastian.

They mean well, only showing up to compliment you or thank you for some favor you've done for them.

But still it puts him in an sour mood, especially if he's unable to do anything about it without coming off as a prissy Slytherin.

During classes, he feels 10x worse if he's not partnered with you and instead sees you with classmates he views as "competition"...like Garreth, Leander, or even Amit, scowling at them in envy and unable to focus unless the professor specifically calls him out on it.

The only exception is Ominis, since he's a trusted friend and damn well knew his crush on you (he has certainly used this as blackmail to stop him from doing stupid stuff) but Sebastian will still huff about how "close" you two are growing.

Sometimes his jealousy gets so bad he needs to go blow off some steam in the Undercroft, casting damage spells on whatever poor dummy, pillar, or knight armor happened to be in his way.

It's nothing that Repairo couldn't fix.

While your assistance in his quest to find a cure for Anne was extremely important to him, that's not the only reason he brings you along for the ride.

He genuinely enjoys your company, and it's his chance to actually be alone with you and talk without any rude interruptions.

Well...there's trolls, rankrok's loyalists, spiders, ashwinders, Inferi, etc....but none of them are annoying students who try to hog all your attention just to spite him.

Aside from Ominis, Anne keeps encouraging her twin brother to make some move if he's that jealous (which Sebastian repeatedly denies).

Sooner or later...he may lose that chance, and he fears this. But he never knew when the moment would come..

Then one night, you were both fighting poachers and their leader, an Animagus, insulted him so horribly that it made his confident expression drop for a moment--as did his Protego shield.

You didn't hear what she said exactly, but his devastated face told you enough and you were pissed.

So you rained down a torrent of ancient magic lightning before she can even think of transforming.

Sebastian could only watch as you smite her like some furious god unleashing your wrath on the world, finding you both badass and ethereal.

When it's all over, you rushed to his side and ask if he's okay--but he just kisses you right there and then, silencing you.

He's so sick of waiting.

Garreth Weasley

His jealousy is nowhere near as bad as Sebastian's...but it's still there. Just subtle.

He pouts a lot when somebody steals your attention away, and he tries way too hard to impress you with whatever brilliant potion concept he drafted up (and definitely didn't have approval to brew in class under any circumstances).

Speaking of which, you're his usual partner in potions class, so he'll be highly disappointed if Professor Sharp decides to pair you with somebody else that day.

Garreth feels this sting in his heart if he overhears you praising them for their perfect brew, while he stares into his bubbling cauldron and sulks, wondering what he could've done differently.

He didn't know how you truly felt about him, so he got the genius idea to cook up a love potion the day you had a substitute for class (he sat at the furthest station and had secretly gathered the ingredients beforehand).

Just as you were about to try it for yourself, he accidentally knocked an incompatible ingredient into the pot and caused its contents to explode, staining both of your robes in pink.

While everybody laughed, the sub made the stains vanish with some magic and decided to dismiss class early, making you two stay behind to clean up the mess.

Luckily only house points were deducted due to your actions, so you won't be getting detention for this.

Still...Garreth was quite upset and you could tell.

You reassure him you're not mad in the slightest, and that you knew exactly what he was trying to do (followed by a small wink before continuing your cleanup).

His face turned as red as a maxima potion, and when he returns to the Gryffindor common room for the night, he gets confused stares from his fellow housemates as they wonder what's gotten into him.

But he can't stop thinking about you.

Maybe you ingested droplets of the love potion after it exploded, since you did seem particularly flirtatious with him in that moment and knew his intentions.

Looks like he got his wish after all.

Now to ask you out properly..

Ominis Gaunt

He's not an easily jealous guy. He'll never get angry at other people for simply wanting to spend time with you or if you're partners with them in class.

You've made a name for yourself at Hogwarts, and while he doesn't always agree with the dangerous stuff you get involved with, he only expects people to look up to you and pull your attention away from him.

Though deep down, it kinda hurts...especially since quite a handful of students from other houses perceive him as someone you shouldn't be around (some Gryffindors with "holier than thou" personalities even had the guts to say you're better off without him when he's standing right there).

Being a Gaunt + a Slytherin had that effect, unfortunately...

But he's sick of hearing that all the time.

Anyone else would've snapped at whoever criticized them based on blood status or rudely interrupted a conversation they're clearly having with you.

Yet when he does it..suddenly he's the bad guy?

It never made sense.

So any jealous feelings Ominis has stem from his own insecurities, and they grow even worse the more he realizes he's in love with you..

Like Sebastian, he'd probably storm off to the Undercroft to calm down if he's feeling heavily upset.

Fortunately, you're quick to defend him and decline other people's advances, saying you'd much rather hang out with him.

When you nearly got into a wand duel/fistfight over something insulting they said about him, that's when he realizes you cared about him as more than a friend...

Though he wanted to test the waters, so to speak, before hyping himself up to confess to you.

So throughout the week, Ominis expressed subtle desires to be in closer proximity to you (which you were fine with despite being initially confused at his sudden change in behavior)

These are, but not limited to, linking arms while walking in the hallways, napping beside you while you were reading or petting a random cat, "accidentally" falling asleep on your shoulder in History of Magic, and letting you guide him through assignments in herbology and potions class so he took the correct measurements (his grades improved, which is always a plus).

It takes a little bit of encouragement from Sebastian, but by the week's end, he courts you in one of his favorite spots outside the castle, gathering flowers, candles, and everything.

You truly made him feel loved..and he was going to do his best to reciprocate that.

How he wishes he could see the looks on those Gryffindor preps' faces when they realize the "hero of Hogwarts" is his date.

Poppy Sweeting

Considering how little she spoke to other students, even ones from her own house, this Hufflepuff found it difficult to get close to you at first.

You being hailed as a "hero" made it especially challenging, as you seemed constantly busy and people were bugging you for attention/advice/help....all while Poppy was standing in the background, forcing a smile.

Of course, you always made time to help her rescue beasts. It became your passion, and she was happy about that. Your adventures together allowed you to connect on an emotional level.

The moment she knew she was in love was the night when you both observed a Mooncalf dance, trying to make sense of the pattern those sweet big-eyed creatures left behind.

No matter how many times you've seen them, their dances are spectacular--ever captivating.

But when Poppy asked for your opinion on the pattern she drew out, she stops after seeing your breathtaking smile, eyes practically sparkling in the glow of the moonlight..

And suddenly that's all she could focus on.

Suddenly that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Since then, her jealousy around other students has increased tenfold...especially when one jerk who disrespected beasts bragged about their poacher parents and invited you to visit their camp.

You've never seen a girl Depulso another student so fast in your life, but Poppy acts like nothing ever happened.

Similar to Sebastian, her jealousy manifests in the form of glares and general scorn towards anyone trying to ask you out on a date (which you, fortunately, decline).

She 100% rambles to the beasts about you.

If Highwing and Lord of the Shore could talk, they'd tell her to just stfu and confess to you already bc the tension is killing them.

It only (finally) happens when you invite her to the Vivarium for the first time, and they both nudge you two together, not backing down until you finally kiss.

If any of yall know that scene in Pokémon Scarlet/Violet where the box legendary pushes Arven towards his friends...that's this exact situation.

Leander Prewett

There's not doubt that this Gryffindor was going to grow jealous of your rising popularity in Summoner's Court and Crossed Wands.

He's a sore loser, while you have generally good sportsmanship..but he secretly appreciates you encouraging him to keep practicing. He only keeps going because of your words alone.

Outside of classes and competitions, he tries to hang out with you but oftentimes your attention goes to other people--whether it's professors keeping you after class to go over extra assignments or a friend sending you an owl with an urgent request.

You don't mean to keep ditching him, but to him it feels like you're always "too busy" for him.

Leander just scowls at the owls while they stare back at him like "hey, don't shoot the messenger".

Yet even when you do manage to spend time together, he only ever asks about your recent escapades....and then refuses to believe them despite you explaining them in great detail.

To this day, he still isn't convinced you possess ancient magic.

But the truth is that he wants to believe you. He admires your bravery and is insanely in love with that aspect of you....though he doesn't know how to express that.

He wishes he can relate and have cool stories to tell, but when people bring up his name they only ever talk about his constant failures.

He doesn't feel any better when others rush to defend your acts of heroism, thinking he's being a jerk.

The truth is you actually loved him and his company despite your frequent banter, but believed him to be way out of your league.

At least until the day Professor Kogawa assigned you to help him after flying class, citing the lack of respect he's been showing to his broom and your good influence on classmates.

He saw this as his chance to impress you...and failed miserably as he was unable to focus and snapped at his broom in frustration, causing it to whack him in the face just as a group of Slytherins passed by.

They laughed and teased him relentlessly, but after scaring them off with a chomping cabbage...you realized Leander had disappeared.

But he didn't go far as you discover him sulking near the lake, hiding himself with the Disillusionment charm (which you cancelled with Revelio).

It's there he finally talks about his true feelings towards you, and you see a more vulnerable side to the typically uptight Gryffindor.

In the end, you decide to give him a chance.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

28th July >> Fr. Martin's Homilies / Reflections on Today's Mass Readings for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B) (Inc. John 6:1-15): ‘Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and gave them out to all’.

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Gospel (Except USA) John 6:1-15 The feeding of the five thousand.

Jesus went off to the other side of the Sea of Galilee – or of Tiberias – and a large crowd followed him, impressed by the signs he gave by curing the sick. Jesus climbed the hillside, and sat down there with his disciples. It was shortly before the Jewish feast of Passover. Looking up, Jesus saw the crowds approaching and said to Philip, ‘Where can we buy some bread for these people to eat?’ He only said this to test Philip; he himself knew exactly what he was going to do. Philip answered, ‘Two hundred denarii would only buy enough to give them a small piece each.’ One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said, ‘There is a small boy here with five barley loaves and two fish; but what is that between so many?’ Jesus said to them, ‘Make the people sit down.’ There was plenty of grass there, and as many as five thousand men sat down. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and gave them out to all who were sitting ready; he then did the same with the fish, giving out as much as was wanted. When they had eaten enough he said to the disciples, ‘Pick up the pieces left over, so that nothing gets wasted.’ So they picked them up, and filled twelve hampers with scraps left over from the meal of five barley loaves. The people, seeing this sign that he had given, said, ‘This really is the prophet who is to come into the world.’ Jesus, who could see they were about to come and take him by force and make him king, escaped back to the hills by himself.

Gospel (USA) John 6:1–15 He distributed as much as they wanted to those who were reclining.

Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee. A large crowd followed him, because they saw the signs he was performing on the sick. Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples. The Jewish feast of Passover was near. When Jesus raised his eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to him, he said to Philip, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” He said this to test him, because he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred days’ wages worth of food would not be enough for each of them to have a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, he said to his disciples, “Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted.” So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. When the people saw the sign he had done, they said, “This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world.” Since Jesus knew that they were going to come and carry him off to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain alone.

Homilies (6)

(i) Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sometimes when I sit down with a family to choose the readings for the funeral Mass of a loved one, they will chose the story of the raising of Lazarus as the gospel reading because the character of Lazarus reminds them of their loved one. They might say to me, ‘My mother was known as Lazarus in recent years because she came back from the brink of death so many times’. Believers have often identified with one or other of the characters in the gospels. It is one way of inserting ourselves into the gospel story.

Many of the gospel characters, like Lazarus, have names, but some are not given a name. Perhaps in some cases the gospel writers do not give a name to someone as an invitation to us who read the gospel to give the character our own name. In today’s gospel reading, there are four individual characters, three of whom have names, Jesus, Philip and Andrew. The fourth character is the small boy who isn’t named. Perhaps we are being invited to identify with him. There are good reasons why the gospel writer may have wanted us to identify with this small boy because he has something to teach us. When faced with a very large crowd who were hungry, the response of Philip and Andrew to this challenging situation of the hungry crowd was a bit defeatist. Philip calculated that they simply didn’t have enough money to buy food for so many. Andrew was aware of a small boy who had a small amount of food but concluded it could serve no purpose other than feed his own family. However, the small boy’s five barley loaves and two fish ended up in the hands of Jesus. The boy was prepared to part with his little parcel of food and give it to Jesus. He gave the little he had to the Lord, and the Lord worked powerfully through this boy’s small fare. As a result of the boy’s generosity, the Lord was able to feed the hunger of the crowd and to do so abundantly, as is clear from the twelve baskets of scraps that were left over. This was clearly a feast, with everyone eating as much as they wanted.

It was the Lord who fed the crowd, but he needed the small boy’s five barley loaves and two fish to do it. If we are being invited to identify with this small boy, what might the gospel reading be saying to us? There are times in all our lives when the resources that we have seem so insignificant before the situation we face, whether that is our material resources, or our physical resources, or our mental and emotional resources. We can easily find ourselves asking a version of Andrew’s question, ‘What is that between so many?’ It is the kind of question that can drag us down and disempower us. The small boy just gave away what he had and something wonderful happened. We may feel that we have little to give, that our resources are few, but if we give generously of the little we have we too can discover that something wonderful can happen. If we do the little that we are capable of doing, the Lord can work through us in ways that can surprise us. It is never all down to us, but our contribution, small as it may seem, can be vital. There are many times in the gospels when Jesus highlights the value of what is small and seemingly insignificant. He once said that whoever gives just a cup of cold water to one of his disciples will not lose their reward. He drew his disciples’ attention to the widow who put a tiny amount of money into the Temple treasurer. He spoke of the transformative power of a tiny piece of leaven in a large batch of dough, and of the giant shrub that grows from the tiny mustard seed. The small boy was the leaven, the mustard seed, in the crowd. Jesus could do great things with his gift.

The nameless boy in the gospel reading stands in for all those who are prepared to offer their small resources to the Lord by placing them at the service of others. The action of one generous boy was the beginning of a great work. In this life we may never become aware of how our little acts of generous service were the beginnings of some great work. We may not have the time or energy or resources to do great things, but if we do the little we can do, the Lord can accomplish great things through us. In the verses that immediately precede our second reading, Paul gives glory to God whose ‘power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine’. The Lord is at work among us in ways that we could never imagine and it is our small acts of generosity and kindness that create the space for the Lord to work in these ways. When the boy shared his five barley loaves and two fish with Jesus, there was a great deal left over. Sometimes, we only discover how much we have left over when we share the little we have, because, as Jesus says elsewhere in the gospels, ‘Give and it will be given to you’.

And/Or

(ii) Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

From time to time we can find ourselves facing into situations that seem beyond our resources to manage. It might be the onset of a serious illness in our own lives or in the lives of someone we love. We wonder how we will get through the challenging times that lie ahead. It might be the sudden death of a family member or a close friend. We wonder how we will ever be able to keep going without the person who has meant so much to us. It might be the case that our lives have taken a turning we very much regret. We have failed to do something we should have done or we have done something we should not have done. We wonder how we will ever get beyond this lapse and make a fresh start. In all kinds of ways we can find ourselves facing a future that seems uninviting.

In this morning’s gospel reading we find Jesus and his disciples facing a situation that seemed beyond their resources to cope with. They were faced with a hungry crowd and little or no means of feeding them. In this situation different people reacted in different ways. Philip made a calculation: on the basis of the number of people and the amount of money available to buy food, and decided that nothing could be done. You could say that this was the reaction of the realist. The facts are the facts, and on the basis of the facts, these people cannot be helped. We can all find ourselves reacting in that way to demanding situations. We conclude that the numbers do not add up and we resign ourselves to doing nothing. Andrew has another reaction to the situation. He recognized that one of the crowd had a small amount of food but he dismissed this small resource as of no value. This is the reaction of the person who belittles the resources that are there and the efforts that could be made to address the challenging situation. You could say it is the reaction of the cynic, and again we can all be prone to that kind of reaction.

There were two other reactions in the story that the gospel tells. There is the reaction of the small boy who willing gave to Jesus the few pieces of food that he had. This is the reaction of the generous person, of the one who is prepared to give all he or she has, even though it appears to be far less than what is needed. Such people are wonderful to have around when challenging times come our way. They do not allow the demanding situation to disempower them. They give all they have to give. Then there is the reaction of Jesus himself. He took the few resources that the young boy was generous enough to part with and, having prayed the prayer of thanksgiving to God over these small pieces of food, he somehow fed the enormous crowd. As a result, everyone had more than enough to eat and there was even some food left over.

St Paul once made the great discovery that God’s power can be made perfect in weakness. God can work powerfully in and through very weak instruments like Paul himself. In the Gospel reading, Jesus works powerfully in and through what were, from a merely human point of view, very weak resources indeed, five barley loaves and two fish. Jesus took the resources that were given to him and with them he fed the hunger of the crowd. The realist, Philip, and the cynic, Andrew, and all the other disciples, discovered that the impossible became possible in the power and prayer of Jesus.

The Lord needs our resources of generosity and giftedness today as much as he needed the five barley loaves and the two fish of that young boy, if he is to continue to do his work in the world, if he is to continue to feed those who hunger for food, for love, for God. In responding to all those hungers of his people today, the Lord will not bypass our own resources. They may seem very inadequate to us, but to the Lord they are vital. He asks us to give ourselves and our resources generously to him, to place ourselves, all that we have and all that we are, at his disposal. If we do that, we can never underestimate what the Lord can do in our own lives and in the lives of others through us.

Today’s second reading is from the letter of Paul to the Ephesians. Immediately before that reading, St. Paul declared that God’s power ‘at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine’. We can be surprised at what the Lord’s power can accomplish within us and through us if we give of ourselves generously to him. Often our faith is not expectant enough. We can fail to appreciate how powerfully the risen Lord can work through generous lives.

If we believe in a Lord whose power at work within us can do immeasurable more than all we ask or image, we will always remain people of hope, no matter how hopeless things may seem from a merely human perspective. Paul reminds us in that second reading that we are all called into one and the same hope. As Christians we are not disposed to writing off any situation, or any person, as hopeless. We never despair before the enormity of the task that lies before us, whether that task relates to our own situation or the situation of those in greater need than ourselves. We continue to give generously of the little we have, even when the mountain ahead seems beyond reach, because we know how powerfully the Lord can work through our generous efforts.

And/Or

(iii) Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We all have our hopes and our dreams. One of the tasks of life is to keep our hopes and our dreams alive. That can sometimes be difficult. Our hopes and dreams are not always well received by others. We can be told that we are unrealistic, that we should settle for less. Yet, we need our hopes and dreams; they can energize us to move much further than we might otherwise move. We might not always reach the goal of our hopes and dreams, but in reaching for that goal we grow as human beings. In many ways, we are defined more by what we aim for than by what we actually do. It is our hopes, dreams and goals that shape us. There is a sense in which hopes, dreams and goals will always be unrealistic; they invite us to look beyond reality as it is and to move towards something better and fuller.

In the gospel reading, Jesus looks out on a very large hungry crowd. His dream, his hope, was that they could be fed, even though the place was remote. His question to Philip, ‘Where can we buy some bread for these people to eat?’ could be understood as a way of testing the nature and quality of Philip’s own dreams and hopes for these people. Philip’s response suggests that he did not really share Jesus’ hopes and dreams, for this crowd that had come out to him, ‘Two hundred denarii would only but enough to give them a small piece each’. Philip saw the issue in financial terms, and quickly concluded that there was no viable financial solution to the problem that faced them. Philip was being realistic, but Jesus was teasing him to have bigger dreams and better hopes for these people. We can sometimes too easily allow financial considerations to kill off our hopes and dreams. A great deal can be accomplished and great good can be done even in the absence of money. The most precious gifts we have to offer others are not financial ones, but gifts of friendship, love, understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness, the gifts of time and of a listening ear, the gift of a compassionate heart. These are the gifts that work little miracles. Even when our financial resources are very low, we can enrich the lives of others in significant ways. We can never underestimate the resources we have within us and among us to enhance the lives of others. If Philip thought purely in financial terms, the other disciple in the gospel reading, Andrew, recognized that there were some resources among the crowd who needed feeding, but he considered them hopelessly inadequate, ‘There is a small boy here with five barley loaves and two fish; but what is that between so many?’ Even though he was beginning to look in the right direction, he could not allow himself to share Jesus’ dreams and hopes that this crowd could be fed in this remote place.

The question of Andrew, ‘What is that between so many?’ is one that may find an echo in our own lives. We can have our hopes and dreams for ourselves and others, but we wonder where we are going to get the means to accomplish all that seems good and necessary. The equivalent of the five barley loaves and two fish at our disposal can seem so inadequate to meet the need and to accomplish the task. Then the nagging question can begin to eat away at us, ‘Is there any purpose in our hopes when they are sure to be frustrated?’ The temptation can be to compromise our hopes and to settle for something that is second best. We begin to think that we should really be whittling down our hopes and dreams to what is often termed ‘reality’. Reality, of course, cannot be ignored. The question of Andrew ‘What is that between so many?’ was a realistic question. It needed to be asked, but it did not settle the matter; his question was not the last word. In this situation, the last word was not determined by Andrew’s realism but by the generous hopes and dreams that Jesus had for this crowd. We cannot be sure what exactly happened on that day in the wilderness, but the evangelist would have us believe that Jesus’ hopes and desires for the crowd came to pass, in spite of the enormity of the challenge and the limited nature of the resources. Jesus worked powerfully through the meagre resources that were given to him and, as a result, the seemingly impossible came to pass. The comment of Philip and the question of Andrew, both of which suggested that nothing could be done, gave way before the powerful word and actions of Jesus.

The Lord can continue to work powerfully today in situations that seem hopeless and lacking in promise. The Lord continues to have hopes and dreams for all of us who are searching for wholeness and nourishment and life. He invites us to keeping entering into his hopes and dreams for ourselves and others, rather than allow ourselves to become bitter and pessimistic because the situation seems so daunting. The Lord also calls on us to trust that, even when our resources seem meagre and the situation facing us seems to overwhelm us, his power at work in and through us can accomplish far more than we could imagine or hope for.

And/Or

(iv) Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We can sometimes find ourselves before a situation which seems beyond our abilities to deal with. The gap between the resources we have at our disposal and the issue that is crying out to be dealt with seems too great. We feel a sense of helplessness which drains us of the energy to tackle the problem. The challenge seems too great, in comparison to the resources we have at our disposal.

In this morning’s gospel reading we have an example of that kind of powerlessness before a daunting task. Jesus and the disciples are faced with a very large crowd of hungry people in a deserted place. They need to be fed and the resources to feed them don’t appear to be there. The sense of being overwhelmed by the task that needs doing is audible in the comments that Jesus’ disciples make. Philip states, ‘Two hundred denarii would only buy enough to give them a small piece each’. Andrew comments that there is a small boy present with five barley loaves and two fish, but he asks rather despairingly, ‘What is that between so many?’ I am sure that people who work for aid agencies like Trocaire, Concern, Goal and Gorta often found themselves in a similar situation in those parts of the world ravaged by conflict and famine. The huge need outstrips the available resources. Yet, in that situation such workers always do whatever they can with whatever resources they have at their disposal. They don’t despair; they tackle the situation as best as they can.

In the gospel reading, Jesus was just as aware as his disciples of the enormity of the task and the apparent lack of resources. However, he did not share their sense of defeatism. He saw that in some way the small boy with the five barley loaves and two fish was the key to feeding the vast crowd. We cannot be certain what exactly happened on that day in the wilderness but it seems certain that the small boy with his few barley loaves and fish played a very important role. There was only enough food there for a simple meal for a poor family. Yet, he was willing to part with his barley loaves and fish; he handed them over to Jesus and, in some mysterious way, Jesus was able to work with the young boy’s generous gift to feed everyone. One generous boy was the beginning of the feeding of the multitude. The boy’s generosity gave Jesus the opening that he needed. In and through this small boy’s simple gift, Jesus worked powerfully.

This is one of the very few stories about Jesus that is to be found in all four gospels. It clearly spoke very powerfully to the early church. Perhaps in and through this story the early believers came to appreciate that the Lord can use our tiniest efforts to perform his greatest works. As Paul declared in his letter to the church in Corinth that God’s power is often made perfect in our weakness. The Lord can work powerfully in and through the very little that we possess, if we are generous with that little. The small boy is our teacher in that regard. He gave over his few barley loaves and fish, and the Lord did the rest. So often the spontaneous generosity of children can have a great deal to teach us. In giving away the little we have we leave ourselves very vulnerable. Yet, the gospel reading suggests that the Lord can work powerfully in and through that very vulnerability which is the fruit of our generosity. The Lord needs us to be generous with what we have, even though it can seem very small and very inadequate in our eyes. The Lord does not work in a vacuum; he needs us to create an opening for him to work. Without the presence of Jesus, the crowd would not have been fed. Without the presence of the small boy and his few resources the crowd would not have been fed either. The Lord needs us to be generous with what we have today if he is to continue to feed the various hungers of today’s crowd, whether it is the basic hunger for food, or the hunger for shelter, for a home, for friendship, for community, for acceptance or the deeper spiritual hunger for God. The gospel reading this morning teaches us never to underestimate the significance of even the tiniest efforts we make to be generous with the resources we have at our disposal, whether it is resources of money, or time or some ability or other.

All four evangelists saw a connection between what happened in the wilderness on that day and what happened at the Last Supper and what happens at every Eucharist. Just as Jesus transformed the small boy’s simple gifts of five barley loaves and two fish into a feast for thousands, so he transforms our simple gifts of bread and wine into a spiritual feast for all, the bread of life and the cup of salvation. The way the Lord works in the Eucharist is how he works in the rest of our lives. He takes the little we offer to him and by means of it, in the words of Saint Paul, he is ‘able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine’.

And/Or

(v) Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

During school term time I pay a weekly visit to Belgrove junior girls’ school, for a short prayer service. The teachers gather together the children from the three classes in the year group in one of the classrooms for the time of prayer. I am always struck by how open the children are to prayer, both in word and in song. Children seem receptive to the world of faith in a way that we adults often aren’t to the same extent. Children have their own way of bringing us to the Lord. Jesus himself seems to have recognized this quality of children. On one occasion, parents were trying to bring children to Jesus for him to bless them, and Jesus’ disciples, of all people, were preventing the parents from doing this. According to the gospel passage, Jesus was indignant with his disciples. It is the only time that indignation is ascribed to Jesus in all four gospels. In his indignation, he says to his disciples, ‘whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it’. Jesus was saying that when it comes to receiving the gift that Jesus has come to give us from God, we have a lot to learn from children. We often see ourselves as children’s teachers, but when it comes to our relationship with the Lord, we can learn a lot from them.

Children do not feature too often in the gospel story, but when they too they tend to appear in a very positive light. You may have noticed that a child features in today’s gospel reading. I was at a prayer meeting some time ago where this gospel reading was the focus of our prayer. As we reflected on this gospel story together, after our time of silent prayer, one person remarked that prior to this they hadn’t really paid much attention to the presence of the small boy in this story. We tend to focus on Jesus and his disciples, and on the hungry crowd. Yet, the small boy with his five barley loaves and two fish is, in many ways, the key to what happens. In today’s gospel reading, he is referred to by Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, but in a way which suggests the boy’s relative insignificance, ‘There is a small boy here with five loaves and two fish; but what is that between so many?’ In the culture of that time and place, children were rarely the centre of attention as they can be today. They tended to get overlooked; they were valued more as adults in waiting than for who they were in themselves. However, unlike Andrew, Jesus does not consider the presence of this small boy with his meagre resources to be insignificant. He knows that if the boy is prepared to part with his precious little store, great things can happen. Indeed, according to the gospel reading, Jesus goes on to satisfy the hunger of the crowd with the five loaves and two fish of this small boy. Perhaps we can never know what exactly happened on that day, but the gospel reading is suggesting that the Lord can work powerfully through very insignificant resources, such as a small boy and his few loaves and fish. Our human resources, inadequate though they may be, matter a great deal to the Lord. If we offer our own meagre resources to the Lord, if we place them at his service, he can work through them beyond all our expectations. All the Lord asks is that we are generous with what we have, little as that may be, and he will work with our generosity in ways that will surprise us. The Lord’s way of working is different to how the world works. As Saint Paul came to realize, the Lord’s power is often made perfect in weakness. On this occasion, the Lord worked powerfully in the service of a large crowd through the weakness of a small boy with his meagre resources.

In these times when we aware of the declining influence of the church in the culture, it can be good to remind ourselves that the Lord can work powerfully through weakness. We can easily become defeatist. Andrew’s question was defeatist in tone, ‘What is that between so many?’ as was Philip’s comment, ‘Two hundred denarii would only buy enough to give them a small piece each’. However, once Jesus heard about the small boy with the five barley loaves and two fish, he swung into action, and the action included prayer. He instructed his disciples to get the crowds to sit down, he prayed aloud to God over the small boy’s few resources, and he then fed the large crowd.  Defeatism, despondency was never an option for Jesus, and it cannot be for us, his followers, either. The Lord sees strength in weakness, and in these times, we need that inspirational vision of the Lord. It is significant that once the crowd was fed, they immediately wanted Jesus to be strong in the way the world understands strength. They wanted to take him by force and make him king. In response, Jesus escaped into the hills of Galilee. We are followers of a Lord whose kingdom is not of this world, and whose ways of working are not of this world, and, therein lies our hope.

And/Or

(vi) Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Many of us may have found ourselves in situations where we felt that the resources at our disposal were not at all adequate to meet the demands that would be made on them. We look at what we have and we look at what we are facing into and the two simply do not match. Sometimes the prudent decision to make in those situations is not to proceed with what we are planning or what is being asked of us. There are times, however, when, faced with seemingly insurmountable odds, the right thing to do is to stay the course, even though reasonable arguments can be made for not doing so.

This is the kind of situation that we find in today’s gospel reading. Faced with a hungry crowd in a lonely place, far from the nearest town, the disciples see no way of feeding them. Philip declares that money alone could not address the problem. Even the equivalent of six months wages for a day labourer, two hundred denarii, would only buy a small piece of food for each person. Andrew at least draws attention to the presence of a small boy with five barley loaves and two fish, but he asks somewhat despairingly, ‘What is that between so many?’ Five loaves and two fish are hardly enough to meet the need. Yet, Jesus saw that he could do a great deal with those few resources, provided the small boy was prepared to part with them. He evidently was, because Jesus went on to feed the hunger of the crowd with the boy’s five loaves and two fish. On that day the disciples discovered that if even one person is generous with the little he or she has, the Lord can work powerfully through that little to serve those in need. The Lord can work powerfully through small gestures. Such small gestures can be the beginning of something great. Even if we only have a little to give, the Lord can work powerfully through that little. Out of very little, if offered generously to the Lord, great things can happen. We all have gifts we can present to the Lord; nothing is too insignificant to be placed in the Lord’s hands. When we share even the little we have with the Lord, we can be surprised at what comes to pass. The small boy is often overlooked in this gospel story. Yet, it was his willingness to give away his few resources that allowed Jesus to work in a way that surpassed the expectations of everyone. Children can be spontaneous in their giving. They often part more freely with what is theirs than adults do. Perhaps that is why the risen Lord today can sometimes work more powerfully through children than through adults to touch the lives of others. The little boy in the story stands in for all who are prepared to offer their own sometimes meagre resources to the Lord, allowing him to enhance them beyond all expectations.

The Lord worked powerfully through what seemed like very insignificant resources, a small boy’s small meal. As St Paul discovered in his own life, the Lord’s power is often made perfect in weakness. At the heart of the church’s life is the Eucharist and this is an instance of the Lord’s power made perfect in weakness. The humblest of gifts, bread and wine, are placed on the altar and, through the power of the Holy Spirit, they are given back to us as the body and blood of Christ. The evangelist, John, in today’s gospel reading clearly understood that what Jesus did in the wilderness for that huge crowd of people pointed ahead to what he did at the Last Supper for the disciples and, through them, for all of us. Jesus’ actions with the bread in the gospel reading remind us of his actions at the last supper. ‘He took the loaves, gave thanks, and gave them out to all’. On both occasions, in the wilderness of Galilee and in the upper room in Jerusalem, what was given to Jesus was insignificant compared to what he gave back. This was especially so at the Last Supper and, indeed, at every Eucharist. We offer what is of little value, simple bread and very ordinary wine, and we are given back what is of infinite value, the Lord’s body and blood. In the wilderness, the Lord worked powerfully through very insignificant resources to feed the physical hunger of the people. At the Eucharist, the Lord works powerfully through similarly insignificant resources to satisfy the deeper, spiritual, hunger of the human heart, the hunger and thirst for a love that is faithful unto death.

Even though Jesus worked to satisfy the physical hunger of the crowd and would soon go on to declare that he could satisfy their spiritual hunger, he was not prepared to satisfy their hunger for power. When, in response to what he had done, people wanted to take him by force and make him king, Jesus escaped into the hills by himself. As he would go on to say to Pilate, if he is a king, his kingdom is not of this world. He exercises his kingship by feeding the hungry in body and spirit. This remains the work of the risen Lord today, and he looks to us all to share in this vital work.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[wiypt-writes]

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

A Frank Adler One Shot.

Summary: It’s Frank’s wedding night… but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, 18+) allusions to cheating…

Pairings:  Frank Adler x Reader

A/N: Just a little smutty one shot featuring everyone’s favourite Dirty Boat Daddy. Written for @onlyjamesbarnes 1.5k Follower Challenge. Prompt in bold. Congrats babe!!

Lyrics from Fall Out Boy- Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Frank Adler Master list // Main Masterlist

❤️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔♥️💔

I'm gonna make you bend and break,

Say a prayer, but let the good times roll

In case God doesn't show…

Frank had always been powerless to resist you. He was a moth to your flame, but like always, you play with fire and you get burnt.

But now, you were the one burning, burning hotter than the sun.

With a groan, you ground your hips down as you leaned back, rolling and rocking down onto him. That face, sharp chiselled jawline covered by a slightly nearer than usual scruff looked back at you, his perfect profile silhouetted against the moonlight which drifted through the curtains of the hotel room.

How could something that wrong feel so fucking right?

And I want these words to make things right, But it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.

"Who does he think he is?"

If that's the worst you've got, better put your fingers back to the keys

He shouldn’t have let you in, but you knew he would as soon as he fired you the message with his room number. Your signature knock had sounded across the plush suite he was spending his last night as a ‘single’ man in, and like a sacrificial lamb welcoming its slaughter, he’d opened the door.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to see you.” You blinked up at him. He was still in his slacks and dress shirt, from the rehearsal you’d sat through, tie discarded, collar open. He cut a stark contrast to the boat greased and oil stained, salty air cured man you were used to.

He held the door open for you, stepping back and allowing you in. Without a word you walked over to the grand windows the space provided, offering a look at the shoreline outside and below. The view was breathtaking at night, the moonlight shining off the waves as they lapped at the shore, mere metres away from where tomorrow he would take his vows.

Through the reflection of the window behind you, you could see him just as his hands gripped at your waist. You turned on the ball of your foot, manicured fingers running up his chest from his strong pecs to his collarbones and over his shoulders to around his neck, your lips quickly on his. Your tongue slipped inside, tasting a hint of scotch, a half drunk glass of which sat on the small coffee table to the right. Frank moaned against your mouth while your fingers slipped through the neatly trimmed hair of his neck.

You pushed against him slightly with your body, the back of his legs hitting the chair besides the coffee table and he took a seat, breaking your kiss.

“This shouldn’t-“

“Shhh.” You shook your head. “Just give me tonight, please.”

He stared at you with lust blown eyes, different to the playful glint he normally possessed when he used to look at you, as you thought for a second about your next move, bottom lip already swollen from his kiss between your teeth.

You knew he was a goner.

"Y/N," he managed to croak out as you straddled his lap, seating yourself over his now hard cock, the rough fabric of his dark dress pants constraining him, giving you just enough teasing friction agasint your sensitive inner thighs. His large hands slid up your thighs and under your light coloured, flowy dress as you moved your lips over his again, giving him access to your ass, finger tips grazing the barely there material of your panties.

You ground down against him, your hips rolling in a circular motion as he growled into your mouth, squeezing your cheeks with his hands. You kicked off your sandals, making a thud as they hit the plush carpet. A sound that matched that of your heart. A heart that squeezed in your chest, as if someone had wound and elastic band around its middle knowing that tomorrow you’d watch him takes his vows.

And everything would change.

Frank broke away from your lips, to lick and nip at your jaw and down your neck, tongue rolling against your sternum. His face drilled between your breasts, inhaling your scent.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and plucked them open skillfully, French manicured nails raking across his chest, causing him to shudder and groan. You reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it with little trouble, lifting your hips slightly, showing a strength in your thighs as you lifted away from him, to undo his flies. You adjusted yourself, pushing up on your knees just a little to allow the room you needed to dip your hand just under his boxers waistline, gently gripping at his dick.

“No, not here.” He growled, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. “I want you in the bed.”

The bed. Where he would spend his first night as a married man.

It was so wrong.

Yet you happily obliged.

It was a well practiced tango the pair of you had danced over the years, and now here you were, him keening underneath you with a desperation you’d come to know well.

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls and it gave you the chills. You held the power and control as he struggled to keep his.

With a quick movement, Frank sat up, pulling you flush against his chest, the angle hitting you just at that pleasurable spot he always managed to hit within you. His head dropped, lips and teeth gently teasing your nipple, large hands splayed agains your spine as he lavished you with affection.

You started grinding down harder, looking for that clitoral stimulation you wanted and as you found it, he moaned deeply into your ear.

“I’m close, but I don’t wanna… not yet.” His words were a plea, a plea that he wasn’t ready to end, and you knew he didn’t simply mean tonight.

But it had to. There was no way around it.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great

"He tastes like you only sweeter"

"Just...let...go," you purred against him.

"Oh fahk," he ground out as his feet planted firmly into the mattress and his hips thrust upward. It didn't take much, a few strong and hard drives and you were crying out his name, your head thrown back in ecstasy as you came around around him.

"Jesus, fahkk, I'm gonna fahking.... Oh fahk," he swore vehemently, his old Boston drawl thick as he drove hard into you for a final time, exploding his load deep into you, spraying your walls with ribbons of white cream.

The pair of you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. Frank kept you held to his chest as you both drew ragged, heaving breaths. After a moment, Frank pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, no words needed.

And you blinked back a solitary tear.

*****

I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad.

And this crystal ball, it’s always cloudy except for when you look into the past

One night stand

Frank had fallen asleep with you in his arms, not quite ready to let you go. But you were long gone by the time he woke the next morning, the only evidence you’d been in his room was a scribbled note on the pad on the night stand.

“Here’s to the first day of the rest of your life.”

He’d folded the note up and slipped it into his breast pocket, not quite sure why. Maybe it would keep you close to him in those moments he needed to feel you, who knows.

Who knows why any of this had started in the first place.

He watched Mary walk down the aisle first, her bouquet in her hand had been dropped as she had leapt into his arms for a hug, laughing as she told him how excited she was. He’d kissed her cheek and placed her down and she stood by his side, watching as his bride and her father started towards him.

It was then Frank’s eyes had found yours as you watched him, and he swallowed, his chest contracting.

He could still feel your eyes on him and he couldn’t get the image of you bouncing on top of his cock out of his head. He blinked as someone said his name, and he looked at the officiant, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, little nervous.” He apologised, flashing a cheeky grin before he took a deep breath.

A couple of I-Dos later, he was told to kiss his wife. So he did.

And all he could taste was you.

Man and wife walked hand in hand down the aisle to applause, and at the end they stopped and the new Mrs Adler peered up at Frank, a soft smile on her face.

“You happy?”

“Of course.” He smiled back.

“Good, because choosing me to spend your life with, well, I actually think it’s the second best choice you’ve ever made in your life.”

Frank blinked as he heard the click of the photographer's camera. “Oh? The second? What was the first?”

“Letting me into your room last night.” You grinned, your hand sliding up his tux, the diamond studded band catching the sun, glinting in the bright light.

Frank grinned at you, before he arched his eyebrow. “Time will tell if it really was bad luck to see my wife the night before.”

“Didn’t feel like bad luck to me,” you smirked, you hand gently tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as he dropped his head to kiss you, the cheers and applause once more chiming in your ears.

One night and one more time, thanks for the memories

[rumblelibrary]

Would you write something where Laszlo's wife still has quite bad nightmares about her past sometimes (nothing specific) even years later and basically him just being a kind and affectionate husband comforting her until she falls asleep again? Thank you if you do! And no worries if you don't 🖤

A Penny for your dream [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Reader]

Word count: 1k

Warnings: nightmares cured with love <3

A/N: hope this will give you some joy

Dreamless nights were your favourite, every night you silently wished to drift away from any kind of thought, let it go from your mind and just wake up. You had an extraordinary happy life: married with a man that adored you, with a job that gave you personal satisfaction and independence, a loving group of friends.

And yet, it kept hunting you.

Not always, you almost wished it was like this everyday so it wouldn't be that painful. But no, of course not, it kept happening randomly. Like tonight. You had a quiet evening at home, a heavy rain pouring over New York city making it even extra cozy. The soft voice of your husband reading out loud for you in front of the fireplace, his warm embrace when you went to bed. The way he smiled at you and said "you don't know how much I love you" like every night since you begun sharing a bed.

Then it happened, the terror overwhelming you in your sleep, memories flooding in mixed with fears and presentiments. the sense of your past taking over your present, stealing it, ruining it, murdering it.

You sat up on your bed as a thunder cracked up in the sky.

You breathed heavily gasping for air as a thin layer of sweat covered your forehead. You gaped for air, you heart blasting quickly as it tried to escape your ribcage.

The strength you had to ask yourself now to not believe what in your dreams felt so real, to not let that loss become real because it wasn’t real, or maybe half was real. In your confused state you hated yourself for infliction this upon you.

The warm palm of your husband nesting between your shoulder blades as he sat up was like waking up again, you woke up from your nightmare but he woke you up from the shock, he is there, he is present, loving, understanding as always.

"Is it again?"

You looked down ashamed as your eyes filled with warm tears and you nodded silently while moving your knees up to rest your forehead on top of them, a lump forming in your throat. He sat up using his good hand as support before it travelled up to your shoulder to pull you against his chest. You analysed with him the trauma before but it wasn't an easy process to get freed from and being your husband he didn’t want to put you in a compromising position.

"Laszlo, I.."

"Don't" he hushed you softly “you don’t need to explain me anything"

You gulped down softly as you listened to him, shivers moving over your body like spiders as little memories of the nightmare hit you. To lose Laszlo was always taking a tool on you, your worst nightmare taking shape in different ways every time, but it was a recurrent factor.

While you tried to collect yourself he slowly undid the bows of your night dress to lean his warm hand over your chest, his weakened right hand resting onto your wrist able to feel your agitated pulse.

"breathe my love, in through your nose, feel my hand, I am here"

his whispers almost made you feel restless but you obeyed, you knew it was fr your best and the comfort given by his warmth was something that always worked wonders on you.

His gentle fingers grounding you as his presence was real and not like those nightmares, he was there for you and not for anybody else.

He was there, he was present and you were with him and he was your husband, you felt it from the golden ring onto his finger resting onto your skin.

"beautiful"

He whispered resting a kiss on your temple as his sole presence was calming you, your pulse finally slowing down as he rested his forehead beside yours.

As he slipped his hand out of your dress he picked the glass of water he always kept on his nightstand gently handing it to you as you took a long gulp from it after holding it with both of your hand, the fresh liquid calming you even more.

It was weird how after one of those nightmares you needed to be reminded you were alive and not some ectoplasm in the room. Laszlo understood it after your first episodes and he did everything to help the process. Every little thing that you did was to remind you that life was here and not there, that his love and tenderness was ever present and your body was alive and pulsing and sparking with life and desire to live.

"Does my wife prefers some warm milk and honey?"

You blushed lightly "I am not one of your kids"

You said as he raised his shoulder lightly "I never said I didn't want that too"

You chuckled softly as you shook your head handing the glass back to him "water was fine, I just need you"

He smiled as he hated to see you suffer, if the only remedy to give you peaceful sleep was to get some flower over the top of a mountain in China he would go there and then build a green house for that flower to grow in your backyard.

He laid down as you moved over his chest once more, his fingers running thought your hair as he took a deep breath, he relaxed himself to relax you. To make you feel there was no fear to behold.

He gave you time, nested your forehead against his neck as his left hand caressed over your hair.

"you don't know how much I love you”

He repeated again, you smiled because Laszlo’s love felt immense, like a land yet to discover, like the sky or the ocean.

Laszlo’s love was your saving grace just as yours was his.

With the blessing he put over you like this now you were free, Morpheus’s hold not scaring you anymore as you dozed off together.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie]

Call Me Mother, Chapter One

I languidly drained the last breath from my cigarette, the drag filling my lungs. My garter straps hung down lazily, tickling my thighs, as they awaited their purpose. Music thumped rapidly, and whoops of delight resounded through the hall. The dressing room door swung open; a small, but curvaceous woman behind it.

Her eyebrows were tweezed to perfection, eyes deeply shadowed, eyelashes false and curled into large feathery swoops; her mouth was like a plump strawberry. I’d always harbored a mild curiosity about how it tasted.

“Mary, you’re up in 10 minutes. I want you at the curtain in five," Cristella said, her hispanic accent thick.

“Is that a new corset?” I asked. Cristella turned me around, and yanked the laces of my corset together. Thank god I haven’t needed to breathe for the last 150 years, I thought. I floated a small influence her way. Gentler, please. She complied, unwittingly. They always do.

I don’t normally use my influence on people I like, but I’m far too hungry to risk her pinching me with this corset. I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost control. She was far too kind to die a death that violent.

“It is. This papí chulo I’ve been seeing said he wanted me to wear it for him. Maybe he’ll tip better," she said, carefully pulling the slack out of the lower half of my corset. I placed my hands over my belly, holding everything in place.

“What’s the crowd looking like?” I tucked the ties away. She jutted a hip out, and began counting off on her impeccably manicured fingers.

“The usual crowd. Old Man Carraway, that one divorcee who drinks like a fish. College kids. Oh, there’s also these dudes in silver masks. Low-key kind of demonic. And some weird guy in like, face paint? He’s painted up like a calavera. I figured they came from that concert that was in town. You know, the one that church was protesting? Say they like worship Satan or something?”

“Sounds about right." I bent down to attach my straps to the garters of my stockings.

“They’re probably here for a private room, so I figured I’d put you on now. You’re good at handling the weirdos." Cristella giggled, watching me struggle to get the backs of my stockings attached. She and I broke into fits of giggles, as she chased me in circles, trying to help me attach my stockings.

“Let me get that. Hurry up and get on stage!” she said, giving me a playful smack on the ass. I pranced out of the room, trying to avoid her grasping mitts.

“Hey! No bruising the merchandise!” I giggled, linking arms with her as we strutted backstage, perfectly in step with one another. She grabbed the microphone from Mike the Mic Guy, gave me a wink, and stepped through the curtain.

“Aaaaand we’re back! Now, this next lady I’ve got lined up for you is quite a treat. She’s as pale as cream, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, and will definitely step on you. Well, she might if you tip well. For legal reasons, we can’t call her “Elvira,” so I guess we’ll settle for… MOTHER! MARY!” That was my cue. I sauntered through the curtain, my hips moving like a figure eight. I moved across the stage, “Lullaby” by the Cure playing. I always chose various genres of rock for my acts. Not that I have anything against the other girls’ music choices… but there’s only so much female rap you can play in one night. As I began to dance, I noticed the group that Cristella had mentioned earlier. They were sitting front and center, near the edge of the stage.

Seven of the masked figures sat around the Painted Man, as I had labeled him. Two of the masked figures seemed effeminate, and the other five seemed more masculine. They all ranged in different shapes and sizes. Maybe the masks are a fetish thing? Cristella did say that they came from a concert… Something about them seemed off. I did a swing around the pole, dropping into a fireman, trying to catch a scent. It was a whirlwind of scents, none of them too out of the ordinary. Except the beefy one. He smelled like midnight. I don’t know how to explain it. What really caught my interest though was the Painted Man. Specifically, his eyes. One of them was grey, the iris almost black. The other eye had a pale, white iris. It suited him, and it was beautiful, in an eerie way. Those eyes looked at me, as I danced around the stage, and they knew me. If I had a working heart still, it would be racing.

As Robert Smith crooned, I descended the stairs of the stage as sensually as one could in Pleaser heels, making my way to the Painted Man. If I wanted to know what these people were, I’d have to get a closer look. The Painted Man patted one of his legs with a gloved hand, and cocked his head to the side. I took the invitation, but not before I teased him. I crouched between his legs, running my hands up his thighs. As I rose, I walked my hands up his thighs, bringing my face closer to his. His breath graced my skin, smelling faintly of licorice. As he leaned in, for what I could only assume was a kiss, I rose again, strutting over to one of the masked beings. It was the smaller of the male ones. I sat in his lap, letting him run his hands over me as I began to grind on his lap. His growing erection told me I was going to have a busy night.

“Your boss is a little too eager," I whispered, getting a good whiff of him. He smelled faintly of smoke. I put my hands on his chest, trying to keep my balance. No heartbeat.

“What makes you think he’s my boss?” The being asked petulantly. He grabbed onto my waist, as he began to grind with me. I moved his hand to the small of my back, and leaned back in a dip. The being ran his other hand over my belly, in between my breasts, and up to my throat, bringing me back up to his masked face.

“You’re the one wearing a uniform." I darted my tongue out to lick my lips. What is he? My mind raced as I tried to run through every supernatural creature I’d ever known. But then I heard it. I barely even understood it. All I picked up was price and one night. It was Ghoulish. The taller female ghoul was asking about what I can only assume was my hourly rate. Most strip clubs in this part of Vegas were just fronts for brothels. However, it’s hard to sell the idea of prostitution to Mid-Western vanilla tourists. So most of my income was made from stripping. I usually had one or two clients I went to bed with a night. It wasn’t very stable, but then again, I had less expenses than the average stripper, considering my “condition."

“Tell your friend my basic hourly rate is $500. My Ghoulish isn’t any good." I stood up, and made my way to the female ghoul’s lap.

“How do you know Ghoulish?” she asked, a bit of surprise in her tone. I bent over in front of her, shaking my ass for her. She put a couple of bills in the waistband of my panties, punching my previous ghoul in the arm. He forked over some cash as well.

“I’m not human. I’ll leave it at that," I said, stuffing the cash into the top of my corset. Dear lord… All hundreds… The female ghoul rubbed my thighs, turning me back around slowly, so as to admire my ass.

“Could we get a room after your number? I think a private dance is in order," she said, in broken Ghoulish. I nodded, and as if on cue, the lights and music began to fade out. As I began to walk back up the stairs to the stage past the Painted Man, his hand darted forward to smack my ass. God, it really is not the night for this shit. My more animalistic nature took over, and before I could stop it, a hiss left my lips. As if of their own accord, my fangs sprung painfully through my gums. I heard a snap, and looked over to see the largest ghoul stand up. He shook his head. Thank god the lights were low. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, and made my way across the stage.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Mike the Mic Guy asked, handing a mic to Cristella. I still had my hand over my mouth. Cristella looked worried.

“Are you okay Mary? I can get you some tea if you’re keyed up." I shook my head.

“Please get a room ready. The Freak Parade wants a private dance," I said as I walked away, silently cursing myself. Once back in the dressing room, I threw open the mini-fridge I normally kept padlocked. I looked to the last bottle I had left in my stash. Hopefully it hasn’t clotted, I thought, throwing the bottle back. This wouldn’t end my thirst, but it would certainly quell the burning in my throat. You nearly lost it. You need to bag one of these stupid fucks tonight, or else. I hadn’t had a bad case of blood lust in decades, but the combination of winter holidays, my strict schedule, and FOSTA-SESTA had really cut off my food supply.

The door opened, and Cristella came in with a cup of tea. She looked at the flask in her hand and cocked a brow.

“And you didn’t offer to share. What is that? Cuervo? Henny?” she said, reaching for the flask. I shook my head, and put it back in the fridge, closing the padlock.

“It’s cough syrup. I keep it under lock and key because of that bitch Ronnie. She’s not fooling anybody. You ever see how much her hands shake? Too much caffeine? Yeah, right. We all know what the DTs look like." I began changing into a burgundy velvet bra and panty set, pairing it with some burgundy gloves and stockings. Finally, I found a pair of sparkly Loboutins Lydia had left me. My mind rolled back through the streets of Paris to 1991, when Louboutin opened its first salon. Lydia smiled, as I kissed her shin, helping her into the heel. She looked down at me, her eyes full of love, and the corner of her mouth hiding a kiss just for me.

“Yeah, she is pretty suspish. What happened with those weirdos out there?” Cristella interrupted my memory. I shook my head. Are you just imagining your heartache?

“Oh the big guy was just mad because I didn’t get around to him. That’s why I wanted you to get the room. Plus, I might be able to secure a nice check from these guys. They all seemed absolutely randy," I said. Cristella shook her head, giggling. The gloss in my hand made a popping noise, as I pulled the wand from the bottle. It was my favorite flavor, watermelon.

“I can ask one of the boys to sit in, to keep them from getting too handsy," Cristella said. I shook my head. It would only keep me from getting too handsy, I thought to myself. Bless her heart. I could never make a kill here. I loved the crew here far too much. Plus, I didn’t have a coven. No one to protect me when I fucked up. They kicked me out long ago. It’s the main reason I ended up in Vegas, avoiding the sun when I could, doing my best to keep a legal and convenient profession. Where else could get a job with only night shifts, and a never-ending supply of useless assholes no one cared about?

“I’ll be okay Crissy. Even if they do try something, we have a panic button in there. Don’t worry." I gave her a slimy, glossy kiss on the cheek, earning a shriek from her strawberry mouth. She batted at me, narrowly missing me as I bounded out of the room.

As I approached the bigger of our three private rooms, I noticed two of the larger male ghouls standing outside the door. All of the ghouls dressed similarly, including the female ghouls. But I now noticed the alchemical symbols dangling from their belt chains. The shorter one had a quintessence symbol, the other larger one, an earth symbol. The earth one opened the door, and the quintessence one escorted me in.

“Thank you, Aether. Back to the door with you. Come, have a seat. Dewdrop says there is more to you than meets the eye. Let me pour you a glass of wine, cara," a thick, Italian accent beckoned to me. I walked to the ottoman in the middle of the room, where I usually found myself during private dances.

“I don’t drink during work hours, love. Now, what should I call you?” I looked into the mismatched eyes of the Painted Man.

“You can call me Papa. I’m Papa Emeritus, the fourth. My close friends call me Copia, but I suppose we are not quite there yet, sí?” he said, leaning forward to take my chin in his hand. I nodded.

“While I would love to marvel at your undoubtedly exquisite body, There is some business we should take care of first, piccolina. Do you like Type O Negative?” Cue the record scratching. The dreamy look I normally adopt when with my clients evaporated.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. Papa laughed.

“The band, cara. I was going to have you dance for me later. However, you must have a preference."

“I really don’t understand what you mean," I whispered. Papa laughed again, a big booming laugh.

“I know your secret cara. The ghouls told me. One of my predecessors, Papa Nihil, told me if I were to ever come across your kind, I should try to win your allegiance. Your kind have interesting abilities, specifically the power of influence." Of course that’s what he’s after.

“I don’t do that," I said, looking down to avoid his gaze. Papa tsked.

“I think you will. The ghouls say you smell lonely. Where is your famiglia?” He asked. I shook my head. Lydia’s pained screams echoed in my ears, our last moment together wrenching my heart out of my chest decades later.

“We split because of artistic differences," I said softly. Dewdrop and his companions giggled behind me.

“Forcing people to allow you to exsanguinate them for sport is not ‘artistic differences,’” Dewdrop hissed. The other ghouls laughed. Papa shook his head, and raised a hand to silence them.

“Now now, Dewdrop. It is hard to control one’s basic nature. Sí, tesoro? Tell me, how long has it been since your last drink?” He looked at me with concern. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what he saw. Weak, pathetic, useless… The words were like a disgusting mantra, swirling through my mind, angry and acidic.

“Weeks… It’s been weeks," I whispered. He tsked again. I heard the ghouls chatter amongst themselves. Their pity made me feel disgusting, like a child with sweaty, clammy hands, and odorous armpits.

“What if I told you I could offer you a job and a home? A home where you wouldn’t have to hide your nature. A home where you’d never go hungry again?” I looked up at him.

“What kind of job?” I asked. The ghouls laughed again. Papa shot them a glare.

“I would make use of your gifts occasionally. Nobody would get hurt. You would warm my bed whenever I asked. Maybe pick up a trade or two once back with the Clergy. And in turn, you would get protection, and all the blood you could ever need," he said. I finally mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. What do you have to lose? Besides, you’ve done infinitely worse things.

“You swear on your life, nobody will get hurt? Not a single person?” I asked. Papa nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll also require a salary as well," I said, extending my hand. Papa nodded, taking my hand in both of his.

“Anything you need, cara. But first, I think you need a drink. And then we will get the night I paid for," he said. He waved his hand towards the door, which the shorter female ghoul scurried to open. I noticed she sported a pocket chain with an air symbol.

“Bring in one of the more rosy siblings, Cumulus. I suspect our new friend will need the sustenance before we get too far into our plans for the night," Cumulus nodded, and shut the door behind her. Papa stood up, and began removing his suit jacket and gloves; rolling up his sleeves. I could see his blue veins pulsating, causing me to become aroused in a way I cannot quite explain. Involuntarily, my pussy throbbed, and my mouth watered.

“Now now, little one. Be patient. Your drink will be here soon enough. But for now, you will seal our little deal with a kiss, so to speak. On your knees," Papa ordered, gesturing to the floor. I slipped from the ottoman to the floor, crawling on all fours to him. His breath hitched as I slid my hands up his thighs. I didn’t break eye contact as I unbuckled his trousers, nor when I reached into his pants to pull out his sizeable cock.

The door opened, and I heard mumbles, as well as a struggle, and a thud. Of course, both my hands and mouth were preoccupied. I watched Papa intently as I sucked him off. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth slack, and his hands threaded into his hair, as he let out an ungodly moan. I kitten licked his frenulum, stroking his shaft, earning another moan. He bucked his hips into my throat. Sit still, I whispered in the back of my mind. Papa grabbed my hair, and pulled me off his cock.

“Never again, my little bat. Continue," he said, grabbing either side of my face as he began to fuck my throat rigourously. Someone behind me cleared their throat. I wasn’t able to look up, due to my current predicament.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Cirrus? What is it?” Papa let out a grunt, as his cock twitched in my mouth. I began to fellate him with my hands, wrenching more breathy sighs and groans from him. Within seconds, his warm seed was flooding my throat. I heard Dewdrop cheer, and then a slap, which I assumed was a high five. Papa rolled his eyes and smiled, as I dabbed away the bit of cum that had spilled over my bottom lip.

“Just in time. I needed something to wash down all that salt," I stood, and walked over to the person Cumulus and Cirrus stood in front of. It looked like a plumper woman. She was wearing what looked like a nun’s habit, her red ringlets spilling out from under her wimple.

“All for you cara. Come find me when you have finished your meal," Papa walked out, which left me with the ghouls and my prey. Dewdrop, and the other male ghoul, who sported a water symbol, helped the little nun onto the couch.

“You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass later, right? Nearly busted watching you and Copia earlier," Dewdrop said to me, softly enough for just me to hear. I giggled and nodded, batting him away after he began nibbling on my neck. He patted my ass, and began to pull the wimple from the nun’s head.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you and the rest of the ghouls get started? I’ll be done pretty quickly." Dewdrop nodded.

“C’mon, Rainy. Come play with my cock, while we watch Mary drink," The water ghoul nodded, grabbing Dewdrop’s hand. I turned my attention back to the nun. She began to stir. I pushed back her hair.

“This is going to hurt a little bit. But I will make this quick and painless. You deserve an easy death." The nun, barely awake, nodded, and turned her head. I cradled her head, and brought her throat to my mouth. With a final kiss to her soft, peachy flesh, I sank my teeth into her throat, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste.

It felt like drinking water after being stuck in a desert for a week. Her blood was sweet, clean, and thick, and it quenched my thirst quickly. Her body began to go limp in my arms, and her skin turned cold. It’s still not enough. I had to force myself to stop. Never drink the last drop. It might just be the last thing you do, my old mentor’s voice reminded me. I let the little nun drop back to the couch, and turned to face the ghouls. Cirrus sat with Cumulus, each with a hand in the other’s pants. Rain was bobbing his head up and down slowly, as Dewdrop played with his hair. Dewdrop looked up at me.

“Hot," he said. Cirrus nodded, and refocused her attention on Cumulus. Rain moaned, causing Dewdrop to hiss. I looked at them all, lust clouding my gaze.

“Make room. It’s my turn," I said. Dewdrop pulled my mouth to his, not fazed one bit by the blood coating my lips. Cirrus began to explore the space between my thighs with her long, gorgeous fingers. Rain held my hair, kissing and nipping at my neck. A girl really could get used to this...

Hours later, after all of the ghouls had had their turn, even the two from the door, I was back in the dressing room. I opened the envelope the earth ghoul, Mountain, had handed me on the way out. My eyes grew like saucers as I counted the money inside. I had only expected eight grand; two hours, eight clients, multiplied by $500. But as I counted, I realized I had 15 grand in my hands. The door opened, breaking my wealth-induced trance. It was Papa.

“If you would really like the job, come to this address in two weeks. Bring only what you must. Put everything else in storage," he said, handing me a card. I was confused.

“Why two weeks?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Because it’s polite, cara. Don’t forget your letter of resignation."

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

This is the first thing I've wrote in years! I hope you all enjoy it! A special thanks to @gasolineghuleh for all of their help!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Grounded pt2

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Kayo, Virgil

Still no idea if this is going to end up a multichap or just a long oneshot, but it’s still going, still not finished, and here’s another 6k words to add to the pile.  I don’t like lifting lines and stuff from episodes, so this section works around the canon stuff in Venom but doesn’t actually quote it directly at any point (I have watched that ep so many times today).  Ditto to yesterday - no proof reading has happened yet.  As this section deals with the episode Venom, watch out for spiders.

Part 1

The journey passed in mostly silence, Virgil wrapped up in whatever thoughts were running through his head and Gordon controlling the ice compress.  At one point, he set it to one side entirely in favour of retrieving a tub of Brains’ anti-bruise cream.  Compared to the ice, it was slightly warm to the touch as Gordon applied it liberally across his shoulders and torso; he couldn’t stop his chest hitching at the touch and his brother gave an apologetic half-grin but didn’t relent until Scott’s bruises were entirely smeared with the stuff.

Scott was grateful for it – past experience told him that while it was no miracle cure, but it would certainly help.  With the painkillers almost entirely worn off, and well over an hour before Virgil would let him have any more for fear of an overdose, anything that would help dull the pain was welcome.

The chill of the returning ice pack some ten minutes later elicited an unexpected sigh of relief, which in turn seemed to coax another almost-smile from the brother standing over him.

If he’d thought the rage of his brothers was intense, it was nothing compared to the short woman waiting with firmly crossed arms and eyes of steel when Scott emerged from Thunderbird Two, flanked on either side by brothers keeping him upright when his body wanted to curl up from the pain.  He’d been spared the indignity of being stretchered out, Virgil adamant that the best thing for him was walking on his own two feet despite the pain, but was leaning rather heavily on his brothers.  Without any painkillers, every breath sent stabs of agony through his torso.

There was no sympathy in Grandma’s eyes as she’d ordered him to the infirmary.  Scott had known better than to expect any, even though he would have preferred some – he was in the wrong for going out on another mission knowing he was injured, and Grandma wouldn’t let that slide.

It wasn’t a long walk, but even that wore him down as he stumbled his way through the hangar, brothers still keeping him steady up until they entered the room.  One of the beds was already raised at the head, ready and waiting for a patient.  Unless there was something Scott didn’t know, they were only expecting one.

“Uniform,” Grandma said firmly, arms still crossed.  He was already stripped down to the waist from Virgil’s initial check, and it was Virgil who held him up as Gordon ducked down to remove his greaves and boots before pulling the flight suit down his legs.  Any protests Scott had about being able to deal with his own uniform were swallowed before given a chance to be vocalised.  From the look in his grandmother’s eye, he’d lost the right to his pride the moment he’d left for Cornwall.

That didn’t make it any more enjoyable to stand in the middle of the infirmary in nothing more than his underwear.  Thankfully, as soon as his uniform was gone Virgil guided him over to the prepared bed and insisted that he get on it.  Scott didn’t protest, and not only because his ribs were killing him.  Grandma looked no more impressed than his first sight of her in the hangar, and if there was one person in the family Scott would never dare push too far, it was his grandmother.

She didn’t say anything, just watched as Gordon folded up the dirty uniform and put it out of the way while Virgil rummaged around behind him for several seconds before returning with a needle.  Scott looked away with a grimace as it headed for his arm.  He hated needles – always had done, always would do – but after the prick of it pushing through his skin came the much needed rush of relief.  He sagged back against the raised head of the bed, tentatively taking deeper breaths now that the action didn’t send stabs of agony through him, and let Virgil fuss with the covers.

“I’ll take it from here, boys,” Grandma said after a few moments.  “You two go and get yourselves cleaned up.”

“But-”

“Now, Virgil.” Favourite grandson or not, Virgil knew when not to push his luck.  With one last look at Scott, brown eyes still dark with guilt and even some betrayal, he put a guiding hand on Gordon’s shoulder and left the room, younger brother in tow.  Scott watched them go with a heavy feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with his ribs.

Grandma cleared her throat, the noise loud in the silence, and he reluctantly turned his attention to her.

“I know you know better than this,” she started.  While he was normally taller than her, even with the bed in a reclining position she towered over him and Scott was reminded of being a young child having been caught climbing the tree he’d been forbidden from going near.  “What on earth possessed you to get back in that pilot seat not once but three times with a broken rib, young man?  You’re lucky it didn’t cause more damage.”

Scott thought back to the trash mine, Virgil storming off without a backwards glance and Gordon turning his back on him in order to get the surviving pod secure in the module. Part of him wanted to say he hadn’t had a choice that first time, his brothers totally ignoring him, but he knew that wasn’t true.  All it would have taken was a single call to John to get Thunderbird One remote piloted home, and on the miniscule chance even that hadn’t alarmed Virgil and Gordon, he was perfectly capable of boarding the large green ‘bird without their permission.

“I didn’t want to upset them,” he admitted.  After whatever had set them both off, he’d thought giving them some space would be best, and they’d both feel awful about not noticing.

“Your brothers are big boys, Scott,” Grandma cut through his protests.  “Whatever little spat the three of you were having, you know they would have much rather you came clean then than find out the way they did.”  Scott winced.  Finding out from someone they’d barely exchanged three sentences with was hardly the best way.  “I don’t care what argument you boys get into, you all still have to trust each other on rescues or International Rescue will fall apart.”

Her words stung. There was no doubt she knew that he’d been failing as a commander since they’d received the SOS from Braman. Gordon had even called him out on his distraction at the air show, reminding him that even though they were trying to save Dad, they still had a world to look after in the meantime.  He’d been right then, and Grandma was right now.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I messed up.”

“You did, but I’m not the only one you need to apologise to,” Grandma replied, perching on the edge of his bed.  “I want you to stay in here tonight.”  He agreed, and after a moment she made her way to her feet again.  “Now then, I need to talk to your brothers.”

“No!” he protested, reaching out for her wrist to stop her.  “Please.” Don’t scold them.  He knew he was in the wrong, but he couldn’t let his brothers be punished for his poor judgement.

For the first time since the hangar, Grandma softened.  “I think they’re punishing themselves enough,” she assured him, before stepping back towards him and gently cupping his cheek with her hand.  “It would help everyone if you looked out for yourself like you do your brothers, Scott.”  He blinked at her, not quite comprehending her point – it was his responsibility to look after his brothers – and she gave him an almost sad smile before leaving the room.

His hand, no longer holding her wrist, fell to his side limply.

Despite everything, he found weariness creeping up on him.  It was gone two in the morning, the day had been a disaster from beginning to end, and by the time two figures slinked back into the room, a third flickering into view, he was fast asleep.

Scott had been grounded many times in his life, for a wide variety of reasons, but being grounded thanks to a broken rib was one of the most frustrating.  The combination of painkillers and rest meant that after two weeks he felt perfectly fit, but every time he tried to reinstate himself on active duty his brothers dragged him straight back to the infirmary for another scan to prove to him that just because he didn’t feel it didn’t mean the rib wasn’t still broken.

At least his brief spat with his brothers had come to an end; as he’d predicted, a night to sleep on it and the whole thing was water under the bridge, proven by a stretchy toy sat on the table by a tray of breakfast when he’d woken up. Conversations had been had with all of his brothers, including Alan despite the youngest not being directly involved in either rescue, apologies offered and accepted, and everything had returned to normal.

Normal except for the presence of the Mechanic in their home.  The man kept himself to himself, rarely seen outside of Brains’ lab, and never without Brains himself, but while intellectually Scott knew he’d been used by the Hood and genuinely wanted to fix his mistakes, he couldn’t forget Thunderbird Two crashing to the ground, Thunderbird Four torn in half and Thunderbird Three locked in a deadly battle – let alone the TV-21’s fate.

He knew they needed the Mechanic’s help, he knew that the Mechanic hadn’t once done anything to any of them since the Hood’s control had been removed, he knew Kayo owed her life to him after the mess that had been their visit to the Hex.  That didn’t mean he trusted the man, and ordinarily that wouldn’t have been a problem.  He’d have buried himself in rescues, kept his brothers away from the man and trusted Brains and MAX to keep an eye on him.

Unfortunately, Scott was banned from not just rescues, but leaving the villa at all until his ribs were fully healed, and he’d never done well at being cooped up, even without being in constant close proximity to a man who had almost killed three of his brothers.  With nothing else to do, he found himself growing more and more agitated about the entire situation – being grounded, the T-Drive still being built so Dad was still stuck there waiting in the Oort Cloud, close proximity with the Mechanic – and his temper quickly latched on to the obvious target.

It was honestly a surprise it took five weeks for it to come to a head, the Mechanic’s patience with him running out at the same time his inner frustrations exploded, leaving an uncharacteristically bold Brains to intervene.  If not for Virgil and Kayo’s timely interruption, Scott had no idea how that confrontation would have ended.

On a surprising upside, it got him off the island, although it rankled a bit when Kayo eased herself into the co-pilot’s chair and he was reminded that technically he was still grounded and only along for the ride.  Considering the nature of the mission, it was obvious that he was only along as an extra pair of eyes.

Painkillers stashed in baldric at Virgil’s insistence – while he didn’t need them much anymore, occasional flare-ups happened and on a mission was a likely time for one to occur – he reluctantly slumped into Alan’s usual seat.

“So what exactly are we looking for?” he asked.

“Dr. Furnier got bitten by a Creeping Banana spider and the drone delivering the antivenom’s been lost,” Kayo leaned back to tell him.  “We’ve got both the co-ordinates of Dr. Furnier’s position and the last known location of the drone, so Virgil’s going to drop me off in a pod to look for the drone while he heads to Dr. Furnier’s location to see what he can do.”

“What am I doing?”

“Your choice, big brother,” Virgil informed him cheerily.  “But if you do anything to worsen your ribs I’m grounding you for even longer.” Scott knew better than to consider that an empty threat, and also knew that Virgil was hoping against hope that he’d stay in Thunderbird Two like a good technically-still-grounded person. He also knew that Virgil knew his hope was unlikely to happen.

“I’ll go with Kayo,” he decided, and chose to ignore the eyerolls he got from his siblings.  “We should find it faster with two people looking.”

“F.A.B.,” Kayo agreed. “But I’m still piloting.”

Scott rolled his eyes but decided that battle wasn’t worth fighting.

“Remember, we’re on a time limit,” Virgil informed them.  “Dr. Furnier needs that antidote as soon as possible or he’ll die – and if either of you get yourselves bitten I’ll murder you myself, got it?  There’s only enough antidote for one person.”

“I’ll make sure Scott’s careful,” Kayo promised, ignoring his hey!  Virgil gave a chuckle in return.

“You, too, Kayo,” he cautioned.

“I’m always careful,” she scoffed.  If Scott didn’t know her, he’d think she was offended at the accusation, but there was a glimmer of a smile on her face as she said it.  No, his siblings were teasing each other – and him.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he chimed in, and they both had the audacity to laugh at him.

“Joking aside, time is of the essence,” Virgil reminded them.  “We’ll be at the drone’s last known position in a few minutes so you’d better get that pod set up.”

“F.A.B.,” they chorused, both releasing their safety belts to stand up.

“And Scott?”

“Hmm?”

“Take it easy, okay?” There was no teasing in Virgil’s voice any more, just a quiet yet sincere plea.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, equally sincere.  He couldn’t swear he would, not when there was always a risk on rescues, even one as seemingly-simple as this one, but he could promise to try and he knew that was what Virgil was asking.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Kayo added, echoing their joking from earlier but now equally as serious as them.  “Come on, Scott.”

Perfectly aware that he’d been nudged out of his role of commander and into Alan’s usual role of lowest-ranking operative, he followed her into the module as she set up a dragonfly pod – and accidentally revealed her fear of an insect they might encounter. Whether it was a true accident or an attempt to distract him from the fact that she was the one headed for the pilot’s seat he wasn’t entirely sure, but the idea that Kayo had arachnophobia had never occurred to him before.  She seemed far too feisty to be afraid of any spiders.

Virgil gave them a brief warning before there was the distinctive noise of the module being released.  Unlike a Thunderbird Four drop they were only lowered slowly until the door could open and Kayo directed the pod to pounce out into the air.

Dragonfly Pods were much more comfortable when you were sat in one of the designated seats, rather than clinging to the outside by the tips of your fingers.  Scott didn’t let himself think about that too hard, instead focusing on his scanner for locating the drone in question.  As Virgil had said, it wasn’t far from where they were, but even their smaller wingspan wasn’t enough to get them below the treetops.

He spied a bare tree that looked sturdy enough and directed Kayo down to it, already making plans to climb down and see some action.  Yes, he’d promised to be careful, but he’d been climbing trees his entire life.  He could handle that with a five week healed rib.

It turned out that he didn’t need to convince Kayo to let him out, because by the time he’d finished his initial reasoning the tree had decided it didn’t like being landed on by a giant mechanical bug and dropped them all the way to the jungle floor.

Ouch.

The impact jarred his rib uncomfortably and he couldn’t quite swallow the gasp of pain.

“Scott, are you okay?” Kayo asked, her voice full of concern.  She twisted in her seat to look back at him, eyes wide, and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring grin.

“I’m all good,” he promised, pushing up his harness.  “How’s the pod?”  The roof lifted up and he jumped out onto an extended leg as she ran diagnostics. Thankfully, they’d only lost the wings and it was otherwise still functional.  After his confrontation with Brains and the Mechanic, he really didn’t want to have to face the engineers with another destroyed pod – especially not Brains.

Even more thankfully, they’d found the drone, although typically it was now up near the top of the same tree that had just dropped them all the way to the floor and now they had to climb up.   Kayo’s challenge of a climbing told him that she was reassured his rib hadn’t worsened in the crash, which he was grateful for.  He was less grateful for the fact that he’d lost said race.  True, time was of the essence, and his rib was twinging so he was far slower than usual, but that didn’t do much to soothe his pride when she dropped down from ahead of him to climb along the branch in question.

He hung back by the trunk. The tree had already proven that it was all too willing to drop them down, and he was really tempting fate by being up there with a healing rib as it was.  Kayo was lighter and also more agile – the branch was less likely to collapse under her weight, and he was ready with a helping hand in case she had to beat a hasty retreat.

Until a leaf – a leaf, of all things – settled on top of the drone and the tree decided enough was enough.  Torn between darting for the security of the trunk and getting to Kayo, he didn’t manage to get back in time before the entire branch parted company with the tree, dropping them straight into the water.

Ouch.  It wasn’t quite as bad as being dropped back onto the ground, which would have certainly thrown him straight back in the infirmary with his sister for company, but it still hurt.  With the combination of the sharp pain and the strong current of the stream, he definitely fell short of Gordon’s minimum requirements for water competence, and it was luck more than skill that found him clinging to the branch again as they were spat out at the top of a waterfall.

Well, he was.  Kayo ended up halfway down the waterfall, clinging to the edge of the very rotten branch.  Scott was hyper conscious of the long drop if she lost her grip – or it broke.  The pain in his ribs wasn’t enough to stop him from moving to help her when her attempt to climb back up ended in her falling further.  It certainly wasn’t enough to stop him going straight for his grapple when it broke as he’d feared, aiming and shooting at his sister for her to catch.

He wasn’t suicidal enough to call Kayo heavy, and she certainly didn’t rate as such compared to half the people he’d rescued, but the sudden jerk as his arms and braced chest took the entirety of her weight did nothing to help the pain lancing through his chest again.  Virgil and Grandma were going to kill him for this, even if it wasn’t really his fault.

Speaking of Virgil, his brother’s sudden reminder about their time limit, while no doubt necessary on his end, could hardly have come at a worse time as Scott realised his lunge to catch Kayo, while successful, had put him over the edge of the outcrop the branch was balancing on.  Even if his chest wasn’t in pain, he wasn’t sure he’d have made it back without it falling – physics was still physics, as John liked to comment.  As it was, both his and Kayo’s survival relied on his core strength keeping him balanced while also not dropping his sister.

Ordinarily, that would have been a strain, but doable.  Now, it was agony, and he needed a solution sooner rather than later, which Kayo thankfully found in the form of a ledge in the cliff.  Getting her there was more of a challenge, and by the time she managed to cling on more than a few grunts of pain had passed his lips.  She didn’t comment on it, saving her breath for more immediate concerns like summoning their pod – since when was it coded to respond to ‘here boy’? – but he knew she heard them.

As he watched the pod clamber down the cliff edge, he made the mistake of thinking the worst was over. Kayo could secure the line to the pod, he could secure the other end to the outcrop, and then it would be a case of ziplining across.  His ribs wouldn’t like it, but they’d manage.  The tree branch had other ideas, overbalancing despite his best efforts and pitching him down the waterfall.

It was purely instinct that had him still clinging to his grapple, arms wrenching sharply from his own weight – greater than Kayo’s – as he fell, trusting Kayo to do something to stop his fall.  He couldn’t see what she’d done, exactly, but when he realised he was swinging – fast – towards the cliff face, he assumed she’d found something to hook her end of the cable onto.

The impact, mostly absorbed by his legs, had him crying out in pain as his ribs heaved.

“Scott!” Kayo yelled, and as he hung limply from his arms, fingers locked around the grapple, he looked up to see her head poking out from the ledge, looking down at him worriedly.

“I’m okay,” he wheezed, hoping he was imagining the tremble in his arms.  Calling on his core muscles again – which after five weeks of minimal use were not appreciating the sudden work out either – he managed to raise his feet to connect with the cliff again, knowing the best way was to walk up.  Knowing that Kayo would have secured his line, he used the grapple to shorten the cable, pulling himself up until he managed to reach the ledge.

Kayo pulled him up as soon as he was in arms’ reach, helping him clamber up next to her, where he paused, using dismantling his grapple as an excuse.  From the narrowing of her eyes, she wasn’t convinced.

“Scott, I know we’re on a time limit, but on a scale of one to ten how much worse are your ribs after that?” she asked, rummaging around in the pod.

“Maybe a three?” he hedged, stowing his grapple pack back in his baldric and replacing the grapple itself at his hip before pulling himself to his feet with the help of a nearby pod leg.

“On what, the Gordon Scale?” she asked sharply, clearly disbelieving.  He rolled his eyes.

“On the Gordon Scale it wouldn’t even register,” he retorted.  “But like you said, we’re on a time limit so let’s move.”  His attempts to get into the pod were foiled by her turning around and stepping right up to him, nimble fingers darting into the baldric pouch containing the painkillers.

“Take them,” she ordered, a bottle of water thrust at him alongside the pills.  Realising it would do more harm than good to both the mission and his body not to, he obeyed, popping back the medicine with a swig of water while Kayo carefully manoeuvred the pod into a position where they could more easily scramble inside.  “You first.” She knelt down and cupped her hands, giving him a step to use.  Normally he wouldn’t need the help, but he’d already suffered enough damage on a supposedly harmless mission and wasn’t interested in worsening the lecture he was due for.  With a grunt that was half effort and half painkillers still kicking in, he accepted the boost, settling in the passenger seat as comfortably as he could and stowing the water bottle as she clambered into the driver’s seat once more.

Travelling down cliff faces head first was always an interesting experience.  With the pod’s wings gone, they were at the mercy of its grips and gravity, and Scott tried not to let himself lean too heavily into the harness holding him in place with minimal success.  During their descent, the painkillers kicked in properly and the pain in his ribs was finally dulled by the time he spotted the damaged, grounded drone on the opposite side of the stream.

Kayo jumped out and hopped across with a determined aura.  He watched her go before remembering that he should probably be helping, climbing out and following her at a slightly slower pace – which gave him a front row seat to the thing neatly evading her attempt to grab it, and a sinking feeling.

Earlier, he’d wished for his jetpack.  Now, he wished for his own Thunderbird, and more specifically her drones.  It had taken a combination of them to capture the camera drone on the mountainside, and despite his and Kayo’s best attempts – Kayo’s better than his; painkillers dulled the pain but he was still aware he couldn’t lunge and dive for it the way he ordinarily would – it danced just out of reach before eventually settling on a branch.  Even if they dared climb another tree in this jungle, by the time they got there it would just take off again.

Scott had always despised the kids who thought it was funny to throw stones at animals, and in turn had found it karma whenever the cornered animal eventually fought back, but as the drone wandered from side to side – he agreed with Kayo’s assessment that it was taunting them – and he caught sight of some loose stones on the ground, he wondered if that was the answer.  It wasn’t like the thing was actually an animal, after all.

When it came to him and Kayo, their marksmanship was pretty equal.  However, in their current conditions, Kayo was far more mobile than him and had a much better shot of catching it if – hopefully when – it decided to attack him, so Scott unanimously selected himself as the bait. Even though he was fairly certain overarm throwing was another thing he probably shouldn’t be doing.  The painkillers kept the worst of his body’s protests at bay, but the grunts he let out weren’t entirely down to exertion. Kayo eyed him disapprovingly as she checked in with Virgil, letting him know about the delay.

Just like the poor cornered animals, the drone took its sweet time deciding it had had enough of stones being pelted its way; Scott’s hastily scavenged ammunition was running low by the time it chirped angry-robot noises at him and Kayo ducked behind a rock, out of side as the small machine divebombed him.  It was small and lightweight enough that chances were it wouldn’t do much damage if it actually collided with him – at least, if his ribs were intact – but thankfully he didn’t have to test that hypothesis as Kayo’s aim was true.

Unfortunately, it appeared the drone could lift a fair amount of weight, and Kayo found herself being carried around as she fought to find the power switch.  Scott should have been able to catch her with ease – it was hardly the first time he’d caught someone dangling precariously from a rope or similar – but he hadn’t been this physically active since the trash mine, and his body decided that now Kayo had hold of the drone, adrenaline was no longer a requirement, leaving him feeling suddenly quite tired.  Thankfully, Kayo proved to not need his help, powering down the frustrating little drone and wrestling the antidote away from it.

He had a brief moment of panic about how long it had taken them, and how they’d get all the way to Dr. Furnier’s base with a wingless pod fast enough, when familiar VTOLs sounded overhead.  He grinned in relief as Thunderbird Two came into view, lowering until it was possible for Kayo to grapple her way up into the module, antidote in hand, and run for the medbay and their patient.

Far more tired than he was happy with, Scott scooped up the deactivated drone made his way back to the pod, settling in the driver’s seat to nudge it directly underneath the bay doors and remotely engaging one of Thunderbird Two’s high tensile cables to latch on to the pod in question, drawing it – and by extension, him – up inside the bay.  By the time he made it to the medbay, a man who had to have been Dr. Furnier was sitting up and talking, clearly reacting well to the antivenom that had given them so many problems.

Satisfied with a rescue – finally – well done, he made to put down the drone by a sample jar, only to realise it was carelessly lying on its side with the lid off.  Virgil was never that careless, and the panic on his brother’s face, compounded by the cry of “the spider” from the expert told him that Virgil’s adventure hadn’t been entirely smooth either.

And that there was a spider, presumably the same one responsible for the whole mess in the first place, loose on Thunderbird Two.  He knew for a fact they didn’t have any more of the antivenom – if they did, Virgil would have used it rather than waiting for them – and the hospital didn’t have any in stock either.  That was not good, and he froze at the command not to move, seeing Virgil do the same.

Kayo did not freeze, instead crouching down and bobbing back up a moment later with a large and vibrantly coloured spider with somewhat intimidating fangs in a clear specimen box. From Virgil and Dr. Furnier’s reactions, that meant crisis averted, although Scott couldn’t help casting a suspicious eye over the rest of the medbay to make sure there hadn’t been more than one.  Gordon would complain about messing up ecosystems if they brought any back to the island, and he didn’t think he could live with the knowledge there was a spider that deadly in the same home his brothers lived.

No sign of webbing, and no more bright orange blobs of spider, had him reassured and he remembered as Virgil relocated to the cockpit to get their passenger to Rio’s hospital, just to be on the safe side, that he’d thought Kayo was afraid of spiders. Despite everything that had happened, and perhaps because of the lecture he knew was coming his way, his curiosity was piqued over what insect could possibly have her so afraid.

That it was butterflies gave him a much-needed laugh – and part of him wondered if it really was butterflies or if that was her intention, although he couldn’t see any of her usual tells for lying – and also successfully distracted Virgil long enough for them to get to the hospital and drop off Dr. Furnier, who seemed delighted to be safe and well.  Not an unusual reaction for someone they’d just saved, and Scott once again felt that warm happy glow he never told his brothers about for a job well done.  It had been a while since the last one – neither the trash mine or the following Cornwall mine had ended on a positive note, despite the rescues being a success.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he looked around to see brown eyes surveying him intently.

“Kayo said you had to take the painkillers,” Virgil observed, because of course his sister had run straight to Virgil with that bit of information.  “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he protested. “Just a precaution, that’s all.”

“A precaution after our pod crashed, we fell out of a tree – twice – got tossed around underwater and then spat over the edge of a waterfall and had to climb up a cliff?” Kayo asked innocently.

“Hey, that happened to you, too!” Scott protested, over Virgil’s horrified what.

“Both of you sit down and let me have a look at you,” their brother demanded.  “What happened to this being a simple search and rescue?”

“Someone jinxed it by calling it ‘simple’?” Scott offered, making a dash for the co-pilot’s chair and beating Kayo to it by pure virtue of already having been closest.  Kayo glowered but settled in the chair behind him.

Virgil growled, although whether it was at his words or their antics, Scott wasn’t sure.  Doing up the safety belt so there was one more reason not to turf him out of his victory seat, he sat back and let Virgil run the medical scanner over him.  The events of the trash mine and Grandma’s subsequent scolding were still too recent for him to kick up his usual fuss, even though he feared his recovery had taken a major set-back.

The scan flagging up a red in amongst the various ambers he knew had to be bruises from the multiple falls was most unwelcome.

“Kayo I thought you said you would keep an eye on him?” Virgil demanded.  Behind him, Kayo sighed.

“I did!” she protested. “He stayed in the back of the pod, didn’t do anything strenuous except throw some rocks and climb a cliff face – which needed to be done, by the way – and was the most hands off I think I’ve ever seen him on a rescue.  We just got unlucky.  A lot.”

“Well that bad luck’s just landed Scott at least another three weeks of grounding,” Virgil grumbled, and Scott groaned.  “It might be more.”

“More?” Scott whined. “I only came out on this mission because you asked.”  And because he’d been going stir-crazy in the house, so his family had probably been looking for an excuse to get him out of it.  “I didn’t even know about it until you came looking for me!”

“I know,” Virgil sighed, looking and sounding apologetic as he put a hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to have any risk; I would never have brought you along if I’d known this would happen.”

Scott looked up at him, his brother’s brown eyes once again full of guilt, and pulled a small smile onto his face that he hoped was reassuring.

“I know,” he said, covering the warm hand with his own.  “I’m sorry, it wasn’t your fault.  I should have stayed on Thunderbird Two like you wanted.”

Virgil gave a rue smile. “I’m glad you didn’t; I almost didn’t notice the spider, and considering how today went, you’d probably have been bitten if you’d also stayed.”

Scott chuckled.  “Yeah, that would’ve been bad,” he agreed.  “That would’ve been really- look out!”

He shoved Virgil to the side, getting just enough purchase to catch his younger brother off guard and force him to stumble a step away.  The bright orange blob of spider he’d seen at the last second descending from the cockpit ceiling missed Virgil by scant inches, but instead landed on Scott’s outstretched arm.

He froze, holding his breath and hoping – really hoping – that he wasn’t about to find out if those dangerous looking fangs could get through neoprene.

“Scott!”  Kayo and Virgil both moved, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the spider regarding his arm to see what they were doing. They didn’t keep sample jars in the cockpit – there was no need to – but he heard a locker opening as one of his siblings presumably hunted for something to trap it with.

Huh, its legs were striped with black and its body was actually really quite hairy.  Scott hadn’t noticed that with the previous one he’d seen, and wasn’t entirely certain now was the best time to register that, either. Not when it reared suddenly, fangs on full display, and stabbed down at his uniform.

For a moment he thought it was okay, that the neoprene had been tougher than the fangs, but then he felt it.

Two tiny, needle-like pinpricks.

Uh oh.

“Scott!”

next...

[evie568]

Work in progress

♫ ♪ Spotify playlist : Ella changed the Name — Previously named : Cut ; by eviewivi

Date of creation : December 2017 — 3h6m

Let’s start from the beginning.

— —

· Who am I?

My name is Evie.

It was not my given name. I chose it myself. I always wanted a long name, like “Isabella” or “Elisabeth”, but I was given Eve. So I decided to add another letter to it to make it longer (age 4/5).

Some of my diplomas say “Evie”, and others say “Eve”. My passport says “Eve” whereas my social insurance card says “Evie”.

It’s a bit of a mess.

— —

I was born in 1995, in London and moved to the South of France with my family (age 8).

My parents are both English (although they enjoy saying they’re French since they have duel nationality now). I have 2 older sisters and 1 older brother.

At the age of 8, I remember that I could count up to 30 in French and say “Bonjour”. That was about it. I was put in a French school straight away and it was scary at first.

— —

Learning to speak French came naturally as I was young. The grammar was a little harder, and I still have difficulty with it today.

I actually have difficulty in English too. I often make mistakes.

Being born in one country and moving to another can sometimes be confusing.

“Are you French?” Not really…

“English?” Neither…

“So what are you?” Good question.

You often get asked the same questions.

“Do you think in English or French?”

“Do you dream in English or French?”

“Do you prefer England or France?”

I don’t mind it though, they find it interesting.

— —

· What happed?

This is a difficult question. I’m not too sure as I am still discovering things everyday.

I am not writing this, cured from my mental illness. I am writing this, still going through tough times, trying to get better everyday.

I am writing this as a sort of therapy, to help myself and maybe others.

To understand myself better, for family and friends to understand me better and maybe for people to relate to.

Writing has never been my strong point but whether you are good at it or not, I do find it helps. You get to express yourself freely, like dancing, or painting or creating music… any form of art really.

— —

So back to the question : what happened?

In 2018, I was diagnosed with a mental illness I had never heard of before in my life : Borderline Personality Disorder.

— —

· How did this all start?

After finishing a Sound Engineering course back in 2015 (Montpellier, FR), I went back home to my parents house to look for a job in the music industry.

It was very hard to find a job with no work experience at all. It was a catch 22 situation : I needed a job to gain experience but couldn’t get a job without any prior experience.

I would end up playing The Sims everyday in my one piece pajamas. Drinking Desperados in the evening while dreaming of moving to Sydney.

My parents quickly noticed I was not being very productive, and gave me a speech.

I would often check Facebook and see my best friend at the time, having the time of her life as an Au Pair in London.

I was jealous.

— —

In October 2015, I took a plane to London to become an Au Pair.

I was an Au Pair for about 2 years in London, and it was so much fun.

I made friends with other Au Pairs from all over the world that were so lovely. We would go out to bars, concerts, parks, museums, festivals and so much more.

— —

Then I met Julien.

This part is difficult to write about as it is still very painful and I have forgotten a lot.

My therapist told me it’s hard to remember what hurt you so much. I find that to be true in this situation, but I’ll try my best.

— —

I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life. And I was 22 years old.

My brother created an online profile for me on a website called OKCupid. He told me that it wasn’t just for dating, but you could also make friends.

I met Julien on OKCupid. His username was “JulienB26” (his last name started with a B and he was 26… I know, very creative…). Mine was “BurnTogether” (the name of a music album I was OBSESSED with at the time)

He was not my type at all, but sent me the sweetest, most personal message I had ever received, so I thought “why not?”

We met in a rock bar in Camden Town called The Worlds End, and it was fun. We got on straight away and it was my best first date ever.

Long story short we ended up dating.

After only about a month, I left my Au Pair family and moved in with him in Notting Hill. He met my family and I met his.

My parents adored him! He seemed so perfect. He was cultured, dressed nicely, polite, had a good job, a nice and tidy apartment…

He wasn’t that perfect though.

— —

He smoked a lot of weed, was addicted to online video games and extremely jealous.

I remember one time when I was typing to my friend at the time, he snatched my phone out of my hands to see what I was writing. It was quite aggressive and I did not like it at all.

— —

My Au Pair friend Pri invited me one day to spend time with her and our new Au Pair friend to go out to pubs near London Bridge.

I refused, as Julien didn’t want me to go. He didn’t like Pri.

We (Julien and I) went to the rock bar we first met at instead. It was not fun. We didn’t have much left in common.

I felt the relationship slowly dying and there was a lot about him I did not like anymore. But breaking up with him was not an option.

I got drunk. I often drank. I liked it so much and would drink too much, too often.

The following day I saw about 5 to 10 messages from my friend Pri.

There was a terrorist attack that very same night at London Bridge.

She managed to escape but unfortunately our Au Pair friend, did not.

— —

Pri asked me to spend the day with her, the day we found out that our friend had passed away and, of course, I went.

We drank wine together and cried.

She didn’t want to spend the night alone and asked me if I could stay with her.

I agreed and asked Julien if it was okay with him. But it was not.

It was a problem for him and he refused.

I left.

— —

Julien had been acting strange for a couple of days.

I didn’t really know what to do and didn’t want to be egocentric and assume it was because of me, but I did.

Maybe he was thinking about his father who passed away?

I didn’t know, and he wasn’t telling me anything.

— —

One day, as I came home from babysitting, and had enough. I needed to know what was wrong.

He put down his joint, told his online friends on Discord that he needed to leave and turned around from his computer to face me.

— —

This part is very hard to remember.

He told me I didn’t deserve his love as he couldn’t love me to the fullest.

He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to end things and needed some time to think.

Our age difference was a problem for him. He thought we were in two different phases of our life.

— —

I didn’t sleep that night.

I watched Netflix and cried until I saw the sun rise.

The next following days were difficult. It was the same pattern everyday.

I woke up sad, left for work angry, came back confused and went to sleep sad.

I didn’t deserve this.

No one deserves being with someone who isn’t sure they love them and needs time to think.

So I decided to leave.

I took a train to Paris and never came back.

— —

My brother who studied art in Paris, decided to spend a year of his education in Bergen, Norway. So he had an un-used flat in Paris for a year.

I asked my parents if I could stay in the flat while looking for a job in Paris.

They agreed.

— —

I felt fresh, like a new chapter of my life was starting. I didn’t know anyone (besides my brothers friends, Julie and Yolo).

I bought healthy, organic, vegan food and bought a membership to a gym that I would go to everyday for an hour.

Things were looking good. I felt positive.

— —

I quickly found a part-time job as a receptionist for a company involved in cryptocurrency.

It was so much fun.

I loved saying hello to all the staff that walked passed my desk in the morning.

My life was good, and it got even better.

— —

I went to the company’s seminar in a grand chateau outside of Paris.

One evening, we had special places to sit for dinner. It was a way of mixing all different employees from different services to connect.

I was sat at a table with one of the Vice Presidents of the company.

He was very kind and asked me what I do outside of work and what I would like to do in the future.

I had a couple of Desperados and told him that I originally wanted to join a company in the music industry and work my way up, but since working for the company, I had fallen in love with the it and would actually like to work my way up in this company.

This was not a sneaky plan or anything. I’m not that smart.

Fortunately though, the President of the company heard my tipsy conversation and called me over.

He asked me if what I said was true. I was astonished he knew my name!

— —

About two weeks after the seminar, the Vice President of Sales approached me asking if we could have a chat.

He had heard from the President that I wanted to join the company and offered me a position in the Sales department.

I had no experience whatsoever in sales, but accepted with great pleasure.

— —

My personal life on the other hand was not going so well.

I was drinking a lot and started cutting myself with broken glass as a punishment for drinking.

But I didn’t tell anyone or do anything about it as I felt in control of the situation.

I was on OKCupid again but comparing every profile to Julien.

In the spring of whatever year it was (2018 maybe?), I went back to London to see Julien as he had some of my belongings to give back to me.

We talked and walked in Hyde Park for about two hours. I wore his favorite dress.

I told him about my amazing new job and friends I had made. I was subtly bragging about my life. I wanted him to regret letting me go. And he did. He cried so much and felt very regretful. I felt happy even though I was suffering inside.

Towards the end of the walk he told me he was seeing someone new.

I did not expect that. I was shocked.

— —

I remember taking the underground back, and crying like I have never cried before while listening to Taylor Swift.

I felt that something inside of me had changed. Something bad.

— —

After returning back to Paris things got worse. I was drinking more and cutting deeper and more often.

Julien was still texting me at the time and I was not responding as I wanted to cut the cord with him.

He didn’t understand why and I remember telling him that I had never felt this bad in my life. I had never hated myself so much and needed space.

He told me that I needed to seek professional help.

I said goodbye and blocked him.

— —

On the day of Gay Pride 2018 in Paris.

I was drinking alone.

I didn’t eat anything that day and drank a bottle of white wine alone in my flat.

I remember grabbing a glass and smashing it on the floor, collecting the sharpest piece of glass I could find and cutting and cutting and cutting.

My friend Yolo came over and saw the pieces if glass all over the kitchen floor and saw me on the floor crying and bleeding.

She called an Uber and took me to a psychiatric hospital.

I was so desperate for help that I would have gone anywhere she took me.

We had to stop the Uber half way there so I could throw up and then continue on our route.

— —

Once there I remember talking to a professional, crying, about suicidal thoughts I had.

I remember doing a lot of research at the time and discovered a website.

It had all the information I was looking for on it.

I spent a night at the hospital Saint Anne to sober up.

The following day, they let me go.

— —

Even though things were bad, I still felt 100% in control of the situation.

I would self harm and drink almost daily.

I continued doing research about suicide and the sharpest object known to man.

One day I decided to order a pack of scalpels off of Amazon. They arrived quickly.

I was so eager to try them but had to go to work that day. So I just did a small cut on my arm and wow.

I didn’t press hard at all but bled. It was so satisfying at the time.

— —

On my friend Julie’s birthday I remember coming home from work, going to the closest shop to my flat and buying two 50cl cans of Desperados. I could tell the cashier was judging me, but I did not care much.

I put on a stand up comedy show on Netflix and proceeded to drink the beer.

Then I remembered the scalpels in my bedside draw.

I had promised myself not to self-harm anymore before the summer holidays as I would be around my family in t-shirts and shorts.

But I wanted to so badly. So I did.

I said to myself that it would be just one cut on my thigh. But it had to be satisfying enough.

So I cut my thigh.

— —

I forgot that it was a scalpel and in my mind it was just a piece of broken glass.

Big mistake.

I cut too deep.

I remember seeing the white fat through the cut in my thigh.

It didn’t hurt though.

Then the blood started to flow. There was so much.

I tried to close the cut with my hands, but blood got everywhere.

I panicked.

I didn’t want to disturbed Julie on her birthday so I phoned her boyfriend (who was also my work colleague).

He calmed me down and phoned the emergencies who arrived very quickly.

— —

I went to the hospital and had to have ten stitches in my thigh.

They also made me speak to a therapist there who told me I could go home.

So I went home.

— —

I was seeing a psychiatrist for a while (since the Gay Pride event)

That told me after the 10 stitches incident that I was depressed.

I still remember the feeling of her telling me I was depressed. I was shocked and didn’t want to believe her.

I had everything under control!

She suggested I take antidepressants and I accepted. Paroxetine 10mg

— —

I worked for the company for about a year.

It was amazing.

I traveled to Berlin and London. I also attended a “Blockchain Cruise” from Barcelona to Monaco to Ibiza.

I could bring whomever I wanted from the company.

I chose Jacques.

He seemed nice.

— —

On the cruise, there was a party going on and of course, we both attended it. I was a little bit tipsy and kissed a guy on the dance floor.

I remember seeing Jacques really angry and went over to talk to him.

We were talking near the main bar on the boat.

He seemed very drunk.

He tried to kiss me but I pushed him away.

He tried again and I had to push harder.

Someone felt the need to intervene and asked me if I needed help.

I told them that everything was okay and walked Jacques back to the room.

— —

After the trip I wanted to forget that side I saw of Jacques.

So I did.

I wanted to be his friend and he wanted to be mine.

— —

One evening we were having drinks with work colleagues in a whiskey bar.

I asked Jacques, as a friend, if he wanted to spend the night at my flat.

I felt very lonely and was a bit tipsy.

I didn’t want anything to happen between us, but I understand now how he thought differently.

— —

As we were going to bed, he tried again, like on the cruise to kiss me.

I pushed him away but he was stronger.

He then proceeded to take my pajama trousers off.

I pulled them back up. He pulled them back down.

I remember his fingers inside of me. I tried pushing him off of me but he grabbed my wrists.

He then, finally, saw that I was not happy.

So thankfully, he stopped.

I pulled my trousers back up and stayed in a foetus position until I fell asleep.

— —

The next morning we walked to work together.

I didn’t feel right. Something about that night felt wrong.

I phoned Julie and told her what had happened. She was in Greece at the time.

I sent an email to my boss telling him that I didn’t feel well and asking him if I could have the day off.

He accepted and I left with my friend Yolo who met me at work.

— —

We had a lovely day. We went to the cinema, went and got massages, and later on that evening, we were at a café and my friend Julie appeared out of nowhere!

She had taken an early plane back from Greece to come and see me.

I was so happy to see her!

— —

The next week, at the end of the day at work, round 7pm, my boss asked if he could talk to me.

He told me that the President of the company had heard that I slept with a married colleague.

This has never happened and I has shocked and embarrassed.

I told him this information was not true and he believed me.

He told me to tell him if anything ever happens between me and a colleague.

I felt the need to tell him that Jacques took advantage to me. And I did.

My voice was shacking. He was angry.

After our chat, I left and went home.

— —

I don’t remember this part very well but I remember going to see my therapist very drunk with a bottle in my hand to my appointment.

She called the emergencies and they took me to a psychiatric hospital, La Maison Blanche.

— —

It was very strange at first seeing all different kinds of patients, with all different mental illnesses.

(the person is drinking water from a puddle, not praying)

— —

I stayed for about 15 days there and made some friends.

It wasn’t as bad as it first seemed.

— —

My siblings were aware of what was going on with me. But once again, I still felt under control of what was happening.

They didn’t think so, and they were right to think that.

One day I ran away of the hospital and drank cans of beer in the side walk.

That is when my siblings decided to tell my parents what was going on.

After going back inside the hospital, one of the nurses told me that my mother was on her way to see me, she took a 4h train to come.

She had no idea what was going on before. It must have been a terrible shock for her.

I felt so scared and embarrassed for her to see me in this blue outfit they had given me but they refused to give me back my clothes.

— —

It was extremely difficult to balance my work and personal mental health.

I was coming to terms with my depression and accepting that I was, in fact, never in control of anything that was happening to me.

— —

After leaving the hospital, I went back to work.

It was very awkward at first.

The President of the company asked to speak with me about my long absence.

I didn’t want to go into details, so I just mentioned that I was at the hospital without saying why, or what kind of hospital…

Later that same day, someone from human resources also asked to speak to me.

She was asking is everything was okay and I told her what my therapist had told me to say, that I had a really sore throat.

Now looking back at it, I know that she knew exactly where I was. In a psychiatric hospital.

The papers the hospital were giving to my company to cover my absence, had the address on them.

So she knew…

— —

One day, my boss got fired out of the blue. He was such an amazing person and work colleague. He didn’t deserve this.

Later that month, my other Sales colleague, also got fired.

Cryptocurrency was not doing as well as it was before, and the company was slowly dying.

I was next to get fired.

It was the day before my birthday.

I remember my new, less cool boss, asked me to have a word with him and a person from HR.

I honestly thought at the time that I was getting a raise. Lol.

The conversation was very awkward, it lasted about 15 minutes. I don’t remember much of what was said.

They told me to leave straight away and not mention to anyone that I got fired.

I told my friend/colleague on Slack before leaving the building.

He was worried he was next to get fired.

So I sent him a brief message saying “turns out you were right about the Sales team getting fired. I have to leave now. Please don’t tell anyone.”

I left and went home.

— —

As I got home I lay on the sofa staring into oblivion.

I wanted to cry. I said to myself that this is a situation most people would cry.

But it was so hard to shed a tear.

I felt numb.

— —

I phoned my mother and told her what had happened. She was worried I would do something bad.

I invited my friend, Alienor, that I made from the hospital over, and we drank beer and took cocaine.

My father phoned me.

He could hear by my voice that I had drank.

My parents contacted Yolo to come pick me up and take me back to the hospital by Uber.

I felt obliged to go with her, so I went and Alienor left.

I only stayed one night or maybe two. I don’t really remember.

— —

I continued living in Paris for a couple of months, without a job.

I would drink everyday. Cans of Heineken beer.

I would wake up and drink straight away, while watching BoJack Horseman.

Then I would fall asleep around 6pm.

Everyday was the same pattern. Beer and BoJack.

— —

I had stopped self harming, as I had promised myself since the 10 stitches to never start again. But suicide was still a big subject in my mind.

The website I had discovered, has the most common methods of suicide in order of success rate. And hanging myself seemed like an okay technique.

I wanted to test it out without actually killing myself.

I know it sounds weird.

I wanted to try and see if it was doable without actually doing it all the way.

——

I took the cotton belt off from my work trousers. I thought to myself that I wouldn’t need it anymore, as I don’t have a job anymore.

I tied a knot around my clothes hanger in my wardrobe, and tied the other side around my neck.

Then, I very gently bent my legs (as I could touch the floor).

The next thing I remember is waking up with the belt around my neck, in my wardrobe.

Saliva was all over my mouth. Snot was dripping from my nose.

It scared me.

I couldn’t undo the tight knot around my neck so cut it off with a pair of kitchen scissors.

I threw the belt in the bin and laid in my bed in a state of shock.

I phoned a friend at the time, and told him what just happened to me.

He came over and we talked about it.

— —

I liked him, he promised not to tell anyone and let me drink.

Yolo and Julie where more worried and protective. They would judge how much I would drink, and I didn’t really like that.

— —

One day, a colleague/friend of mine was organizing a small party at his house with about 8 people.

Julie, her boyfriend, Yolo and I all went along with other ex-work colleagues.

I got drunk quickly. And when I drank, I would talk too much.

I told a friend/ex-work colleague that I tried to hang myself the other day just to try it out but ended up fainting.

— —

Later that evening, I went home to my flat and fell asleep.

Around 3 in the morning, my door bell rang.

I didn’t know who it was, but opened the door all tired.

It was Julie, Yolo and another friend.

They were really worried about me.

What I had said at that party has gotten out, and everyone knew about it.

They told me I needed to go back to the hospital.

So I did the very next morning.

— —

I went back to The Maison Blanche, and stayed there for 12 nights.

One of the male nurses saw me and asked why I was back, again.

I told him what had happened and he was very nice. He gave me advice and listened to me.

He mentioned that we should go out for drinks once I get out of the hospital. I agreed and gave him my number.

— —

We texted that night, while I was in my hospital bed.

Our text messages were very flirtatious.

The next following days we had sexual relations in my hospital room, and in the storage room.

— —

Once I left La Maison Blanche, I invited Alienor over to drink and take cocaine.

And I told her about my romantic affair I had at the hospital.

She didn’t seem surprised. She told me that another female patient had sexual relations with a nurse there too, and she wondered if it was the same nurse. So did I.

We sent a message to the girl in question and asked her to describe the male nurse she had relations with.

It was him. Paul. And she was 17.

— —

This suddenly felt wrong and I had to tell someone. So I told my mother about Paul and also Jacques.

She was really angry. More so about Paul the nurse than Jacques. But I felt the opposite.

I didn’t feel taken advantage of by Paul. But Jaques really hurt me.

My mother wanted me to report both of them to the police, so I did.

— —

My parents didn’t trust me living alone in such a big city so far away. I needed help.

In May 2019 I want to Rehab for alcohol and cocaine addiction.

I spent one month there. It was much nicer than the hospital. They had a ping-ping table, a chess set and many more activities.

I spent a month in Rehab and it was really nice to be away from alcohol.

Alcohol affected me in bad ways.

I would say so many things I regret. I would hurt myself and make bad decisions.

I drank so much that when I didn’t, I would uncontrollably shake and feel faintish.

Rehab made me want to stop forever.

— —

My mother would visit me often and it was lovely to see her. She was very supportive.

After leaving Rehab, it was time for me to leave Paris forever and move back in with my parents down South of France.

I needed to not be alone. I needed help.

— —

I moved back into my old bedroom with my vinyls and The White Stripes posters. It was comforting.

I was now taking more medication : Paroxetine (20mg) and Abilify (5mg).

And it was making me feel better.

My mother wanted me to see one of the best therapists in France.

So I started seeing a new psychiatrist in Bordeaux, FR (1h away by train) every two weeks.

At first we did not get along.

I wanted him to help me forget about my ex, but he explained that it was not possible to forget the past, you must accept it as part of you, like a scar.

He wanted me start writing about my feelings in a journal. I was not good at it and did not enjoy it. But I did it anyway.

— —

A few months later, I was starting to feel much better and stronger.

My therapist was really helping me, and so was my family.

I decided it was time to find a job near my parents house.

In October 2019, I found a job as an Exhibition Assistant for a company in events.

I was saving up to move to Sydney, Australia. To start a new life far away. To a place I’ve always wanted to go to.

I’ve never been to Australia but didn’t care.

— —

Working for this company was not fun, and a lot of pressure. They wanted to me make a minimum of 200 phone calls a day. And I hated being on the phone.

I told my therapist about my job being very pressurizing and he told me to quite and move to Sydney sooner.

That sounded like a great plan! I was so happy about this decision.

I went home and bought myself a Working Holiday Visa.

— —

My psychiatrist decided it was time to stop my medication as I was doing really well.

So I stopped them gradually.

The withdraw effects were a nightmare.

I was sweating, felt nauseous, had diarrhea, felt extremely emotional…

But that only lasted for about 2 weeks.

I was so happy that I wasn’t taking any medication anymore!

I felt on top of the world.

— —

For New Years Eve, I decided to go see my old friends from when I was doing my Sound Engineering course.

I told them about what had happened to me, and I could see it made them sad. They told me that I was such a happy person before. That I didn’t deserve this.

I told them I was fine now and that it was in the past.

I didn’t drink on NYE and they respected that. But I felt odd. I felt numb for some reason. They loved me so much and expressed it. But I didn’t seem to feel the same way. I used to. But not anymore. I didn’t feel love for anyone and that worried me. I felt like a ghost.

— —

My mother picked me up and could tell that I was different.

I went to work the following day and did not feel well at all.

I could feel it all coming back. I was so scared and ashamed of relapsing. But I knew I was.

I told my boss that I wasn’t feeling well and she let me go home.

I got back home and told my parents : I think I’m depressed again…

— —

I saw my therapist again and every session he would read what I wrote.

This was the last time I wrote in my diary.

He closed my black book and called my mother in.

He told me I needed to go back to a psychiatric hospital.

— —

My parents drove me back home from Bordeaux after that session and we packed a suitcase and went to the nearest psychiatric hospital. La Candelie in Agen.

I remember hearing my therapist on the phone to the hospital telling them I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I had no idea what that was.

— —

I arrived at La Candelie and spent 7 weeks there.

I was not in a good state of mind.

I tried hanging myself multiple times there in the shower but couldn’t let go of all of my weight by bending my legs. I just couldn’t.

I cut myself often and managed to bring in Vodka.

It was a mess.

— —

They put me in the isolation room for one night.

The isolation room was horrific.

They gave me paper pajamas that would rip with the slightest movement.

The door was locked and I had a bucket to pee in.

I was not allowed a pillow or a blanket. It was so cold and my pajamas were ripped everywhere.

The next morning, I saw a psychiatrist from the hospital and told him that I was fine and just being dramatic. I did not want to go back there.

— —

After 7 long weeks I was finally allowed out.

It was a long time.

I was now on even more medication : Paroxetine, Abilify, Tercian, Alprazolam and Mirtazapine.

I felt so numb. Better, but numb.

Australia was not an option anymore. Not for a while anyway.

— —

Once I left the hospital, I was obliged to have a nurse come to my parents house every morning and evening to make sure that I take all my medication properly.

I also had to go a psychological-medical center once a week.

I got tired of explaining what happened when, where and why. It was hard to remember. So I decided to write all the bullet points down on a piece of paper.

— —

· Where am I now?

Today is the 13th of May 2021. I still suffer from my mental illness even though I wish it was all in the past.

I’m currently taking Mirtazapine, Abilify and Alprazolam and only see a nurse once a week to restock on medication.

My therapist appointments have been elongated to once a month.

I haven’t self harmed in about a year.

I do however still have episodes with suicidal thoughts, but they are less severe.

My therapist from Paris once told me that you will have ups and downs, but with time the ups will be less up and the downs less down.

It’s starting to make sense now.

I currently live in a small city called Agen (30m drive from my parents house) with my boyfriend Yann. He’s the best.

We met through an old friend of mine that I reconnected with last year.

I still don’t have many friends where I live, as they are all over the place (Montpellier, London and Paris)

— —

My mother took an online course about Borderline Personality Disorder, which I really appreciate. I feel like maybe she understands a part of me more.

— —

Julie left Paris and moved to Montpellier to become a Yoga instructor. She and her boyfriend are still together, building their new life in the South of France.

— —

Yolo is still in Paris, she recently got a job as a video editor for a cool company. She’s doing great.

— —

Pri is still in London, not as an Au Pair anymore but as a chef by day, and an Art Salon organizer by night. She’s always been very productive and I admire that.

— —

Alienor unfortunately is back in the hospital in Paris, La Maison Blanche, as she tried to commit suicide by jumping off of a bridge above train rails. She lost both of her legs and one arm, but thankfully survived.

— —

The criminal cases concerning Jacques and Paul the nurse, are still going on. It’s been a very long process but I hope it ends soon.

— —

I don’t have any news at all regarding Julien and do not plan on having any.

— —

· Why am I writing this?

Like I wrote at the beginning of this, longer than expected text, about my mental health, I am writing this for me, my family and friends and hopefully others who may relate to it and seek help if they need it.

I often mentioned that I felt under control of the situation, but I was wrong. So maybe someone reading this might make the decision to seek help.

I have no words to describe how thankful I am to the people who helped me.

This is not a suicide note, it’s the opposite. It’s a “life” note.

A note to remind me that some days can be nice and happy, but others can be very, very hard. But you must go on. You must keep on fighting. It might seem like an endless battle but it gets better.

Sometimes that’s hard to see. But I see it now.

[1dfangirls35]

Voir Dire (N.H.)

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

nineteen

Niall was hammered. More hammered than he'd ever been in recent memory. He was hammered and lonely, and that was a miserable combination. 

It all started at the after party for the announcement of his tour. It was supposed to be a happy moment in Niall's life, but instead he'd never felt lower. He'd never felt lonelier. What should have been a celebration, an event to kick off his favorite part of being a musician in the first place, had once again become a reminder of the state of his emotions and a catalyst for drinking away his feelings.

It had been a month since Kelsey tore his heart apart. Yes, tore was the best way to describe it, because Niall wasn't sure there would ever be a way to stitch it back together again. He'd had his heartbroken before, but never like this. Never in a way he didn't see coming.

Usually, music was the one thing Niall could always count on getting him through his emotions. For Niall, music had always been the bandage to his open wounds, providing cover for him as he slowly healed. His past heartbreaks had produced some of his best songwriting and cured his broken heart in the process. But for some reason this time, every note sounded out of key, every lyric seemed inadequate and soon, he couldn't bring himself to play a single chord.

His songwriting wasn't the only thing suffering. Heartbreak had drifted into every aspect of his life. He'd found red carpet appearances unbearable, he struggled to make it through interviews, and his fans had been picking up on his lack of social media interactions.  And then there was the Range Rover incident. A night when Niall's emotions got the better of him, so much so that he'd lost his focus on the road, resulting in him having to abruptly swerve to avoid hitting another vehicle. This, of course, resulted in his Range Rover meeting a large metal telephone pole. The scariest part of that night was that Niall didn't feel a thing. There was no adrenaline kicking in, no fight or flight response, his body stayed numb. And even a TMZ headline and a call from Alan Michaels asking what the hell was going on with him couldn't get Niall to care.

The only person that had kept Niall out of hitting full on disaster, Britney Spears circa 2017, was surprisingly- Krystal. She'd saved him a few too many times from being a drunken mess on the red carpet of an awards show. She'd shoved his drunk ass into limousines after their "dates", when Niall had downed tequila shots like they were juice instead of slowly sipping on wine. She'd answered interview questions with a smile, about their relationship, about music, about anything that Niall couldn't find the words to answer.  She didn't know about things with Kelsey, not officially- but somehow she did. He was grateful for Krystal. Saving a heartbroken former boybander from a downward spiral wasn't part of her job.

And here she was again tonight, helping him find his way home after he had a few too many rounds of Guinness at the tour announcement party.

"Basil could have brought me home you know," Niall slurred, his bloodshot eyes meeting Krystal's in the backseat of the Uber. Niall wouldn't admit it, but he was happy that it wasn't Basil driving him home again. He wasn't sure he could deal with another one of Basil's attempts to find out just what exactly was driving his star client to rock bottom.

"I know," Krystal replied, the glitter in her eyeshadow catching in a passing street light. "But I wanted to make sure you got back." She offered Niall a soft smile.

Niall gave her an appreciative nod, then leaned his head back, resting it between the black leather seat and the window. His eyes grew tired, and he closed them in an effort to stop the world from spinning. He'd only passed out a few minutes before he hears Krystal's hushed voice next to him.

"I told you, I can't tonight. I had a prior commitment," she whispered, her tone laced with irritation.

Niall couldn't make out the words being said on the other end of the phone. But from what his altered mind could comprehend, the person on the other and was yelling. He opened his eyes, squinting in attempt to alter the blurred image of Krystal in front of him.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay? Promise," Krystal paused. Niall watched as her face began to relax once more. "Good night." And with that she hung up the phone, setting it down in her lap and running a hand through her hair while letting out an exasperated sigh.

"That your boyfriend?" Niall slurred. He knew  it was an inappropriate question, him asking about Krystal's love life. He also knew it wasn't  a question he should be asking in front of an Uber driver who may catch on to the fact that Niall is supposed to be Krystal's boyfriend. But the alcohol had made him speak his mind and he couldn't comprehend the consequences.

Krystal turned to look at him. Obviously not aware that Niall had regained consciousness and was listening to her conversation. "I don't know if you could go as far as to say that," she rolled her eyes just a little. "It's complicated."

"Well if you want him to be your boyfriend you should tell him Krystal," Niall said grandly, as if he had just had a genius breakthrough.

Krystal shook her head, "That easy huh?"

Niall got the feeling that Krystal wasn't going to reveal much more information. He wasn't sure if that was because she wasn't in the mood to discuss her love life or if she was trying to shelter his already emotional state from anymore mentions of love. So he loosened the tie around his neck and turned his attention to the road ahead of him, the Los Angeles streets empty at this time of night.

Krystal broke the silence, turning to face Niall again. This time her face is filled with worry. "Don't say anything to Capitol about it will you? I don't think there's anything in my contract about it but, I can't lose this job."

Niall laughed. "You think I'd tell those bastards anything? Your secret's safe with me," he held out his pinky. "Pinky promise."

Krystal gave a small smile, sticking her finger out to meet Niall's he wraps them together. "Don't think you'll remember in the morning anyways," she giggled to herself with a raise of her eyebrow.

"What do you mean, my mind is as clear as an Irish summer day!" Niall feigned astonishment.

"Sir, I seem completely sober to you don't I?" he reached a hand out to tap their driver on the shoulder. Krystal's eyes grow wide with embarrassment. The man, gives him a hesitant nod, which leads to Niall's cackles filling the air. He realizes that it's the first time in weeks he's let out a laugh.

"Sure it is," Krystal responds with a laugh, shaking her head.

When the Uber pulls into Niall's house a few minutes later, Krystal grabbed Niall's arm in an attempt to help him out the car. He stumbled towards the door, letting out an obnoxious thank you towards the Uber driver as Krystal waved him goodbye.

"Let's get you some water," she said as she leads him inside, setting Niall on the couch before making her way towards the kitchen. Niall heard the tap water run from his position, and soon Krystal returns with a glass of fresh water. Niall sat up and took the glass from her hand, bringing it to his lips and drinking the liquid in big gulps.

"Are you okay?" Krystal asked, her voice hesitant as if she wasn't sure she even wanted to ask. There was a look of concern flashing onto to her face, her forehead crinkling in the middle.

The real answer to Krystal's question was a resounding no. Niall wasn't even close to being okay and he didn't know if there was anything that would make him okay again. But even in his less than sober state, Niall wasn't about to speak freely about his inner struggles. Instead, he flashed Krystal a cheeky grin and said, "Just need some water, aspirin and sleep in me and I'll be good as new in the morning love."

"Listen Niall..." Krystal looked down at her fingers. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to, but if you ever need someone, I'm here. You shouldn't have to struggle alone."

"Thank you," Niall replied softly. "And thanks for saving me from looking like a hot mess half the time."

Krystal's lips half smile. "That's what friends are for."

A friend. Niall had misjudged Krystal all that time ago. While Kelsey could never see past Krystal as the villain in her love story, Niall had come to see that she was far more than an actress hired to play his girlfriend. She was a person that had Niall's back.

Krystal stood abruptly from the couch, glancing down at her phone. "Uber will be here in five minutes," she muttered more to herself than to Niall. She turned her attention back towards Niall, who was slowly beginning to feel himself crash again. "Get some rest, okay?" Krystal gave Niall's arm a comforting pat, before making her way towards the door.

It was later that week when Krystal called Niall sobbing. He didn't know what came over him; maybe it was the fact that Krystal didn't have anyone else or maybe it was because he was trying to return the favor, but thirty minutes later Krystal was standing on his doorstep, and even in the darkening sunset he can see her red, puffy, make-up-free eyes. 

"Come in," he said, opening the door and letting Krystal in. She stepped inside, sliding off her sneakers on the entry way rug. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call," she apologized as she followed Niall towards the living room. Krystal sat down, pulling down the sleeves of her crewneck sweatshirt before crossing her arms in front of her.

"Don't apologize, what good of a friend am I if I turn you away in your moment of need?" Niall sat down on the couch next to her, his shoulders just brushing Krystal's.

And so Krystal began to pour her heart out to Niall. She told him about Eric, the minor league baseball player she had been seeing on the side. About how it had all started out as a friends with benefits situation until Krystal started to catch feelings. She told Niall that she'd his drunken advice about simply telling Eric that she wanted him to be more today, and that Eric had promptly kicked her out of his apartment, yelling her for trying to turn some good sex into something more complicated.

And as Krystal cried into Niall's shoulder, her tears turning the blue of his t-shirt into navy, he reached his arm around her and gently rubbed her back. "I'm so stupid," Krystal sobbed. "I should have none that he wouldn't want anything more, but I was just so lonely and he was someone and..." Krystal looked up at Niall, her eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry you're the last one I should be complaining about a broken heart to. I wasn't even with the guy and..."

"Krystal," Niall interrupted her before she can continue. "Look at me." 

She grew quiet, looking up at Niall, her hazel eyes meeting Niall's blue ones. "Stop comparing your heartbreak to anyone else's. If you hurt, you hurt okay? That's not wrong or insensitive. And this guy... well quite honestly, if he couldn't see what a beautiful person you are, inside and out, well that's his problem okay?" He brought his thumb to the corner of her eye, wiping away a stray tear.

Krystal nodded. "You're a good guy Niall," Krystal said softly. "She made a mistake, letting you go."

"They both did," Niall whispered, looking Krystal in the eyes.

He didn't know what came over him. Maybe it was that they were both hurting. Two broken souls in need of something, anything to take the pain away- even if only temporarily. But the sun was shining through the window illuminating Krystal's golden locks, and his eyes have focused on the pink of her lips, and it was like he'd suddenly seen Krystal in a whole new light. And before he could realize what was happening, his lips were on Krystal's and his hands were fumbling with his belt, and he was leading her up the stairs to his bedroom and it all happened so so fast.

When their done, Niall couldn't help but feel like something was eating the inside of his stomach alive. He wasn't sure if it was guilt or pain or fear, but it lingered as he laid there, with Krystal's head on his bare chest, her fingers combing through his hair. For a moment, he imagined he would look down and see her-that chocolate brown hair that always smelled like a hint of lavender. But it's blonde hair sprawled across his torso, and the ache in his chest was still there as strong as ever.

He thought that this would make him feel better. Relieved. That maybe two aching hearts would come together for a moment and not ache anymore. But all he can see is her. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked when she first woke up in the morning, her hair sticking up on the side. And then Niall thought about what she would think, about him wrapped up in the sheets with the very person who she always feared. The insecurity that haunted their relationship from the moment Kelsey learned about the contract.

Niall wanted to feel some sense of payback. Like him sleeping with Krystal was the eye for an eye of Kelsey breaking his heart. But he didn't feel like he'd won the battle. He just felt like he'd stabbed himself in the chest all over again.

Niall wondered if he should say something. If he should apologize to Krystal for what had clearly been a mistake, a temporary lapse in judgement in the name of emotions. But before he even has time to think of the right words Krystal has jolted upright.

"Oh shit," Krystal muttered, jumping out of the bed. "I always miss that darn alarm, where's my purse." She grabs her t-shirt from the side of the bed and rushes out of the room, and as she leaves, Niall can't help but notice that the pit in his stomach is worse.

Tag List: @awomanindeniall​ , @ihearthemcallingforyou , @niall-is-my-dream​ ,​  @stylishmuser​​ , @thicksniall

[b-grademoviemonsters]

The Velocipastor

Premise according to IMDB: After losing his parents, a priest travels to China, where he inherits a mysterious ability that allows him to turn into a dinosaur. At first horrified by this new power, a hooker convinces him to use it to fight crime. And ninjas.

Premise according to us: Every so often, in an otherwise ordinary life, a movie comes along that is so visionary, so transformative and so ahead of its time that your life is never quite the same afterwards. It probably goes without saying that this is not that film. But damned if we didn’t enjoy the heck out of it anyway.

Wow, that’s high praise there. Honestly, coming across this gem after some of the dross we’ve sat through of late was like going to sleep beside the Trumpster (you nestled in your comfy bed, him prostate and unblinking in his cryovac chamber) and waking up to see a shirtless Justin Trudeau standing over you holding a breakfast tray piled high with croissants and a huge bowl of Nutella.

Mmmm, Nutella. That’s so good smeared across croissants! Right... yes... croissants. Because that would definitely not be the only place we would be smearing Nutella in this scenario. But moving right along…

Ah yes, back to The Velocipastor. Now, where were we? Well, I was about to share my general rule of thumb about this kind of movie. Which is that if the words ‘WTF’ come out of my mouth within the first five minutes, followed by vigorous thrashing of the rewind button, then we’re onto a winner. And these guys managed it with the below shot. *cue supermassive spoiler alert*

You see, during the film’s first few minutes or so, a horrific car bomb kills the family of the film’s hero priest right before his very eyes. But instead of a glorious explosion of sound, violence, body parts and middle aged parental polyester across the big screen, the director merely added a descriptive tile in a font I think came standard with Windows Office 98. I mean, have you ever seen a more excellent manifestation of having no budget than this?

Wait, so there was no explosion, no body parts and no gore...  and that’s a good thing? YES! A very good thing. Because it shows they get the essence of B-grade monster movie making, which is that the budget may be small, but the tongue-in-cheek ideas don’t have to be. Talk about happy days!

Still, exploding parents is a pretty awful thing to happen to someone so young, right? Totally. But luckily our hero priest Fr Doug has the wise words of mentor Fr Stuart to ponder as he mourns his loss while sipping - nay sculling - the blood of Jesus Christ in a way we’re fairly certain the Vatican would not be keen on. “Your parents died Doug. That’s what parents do. They die on you.” Dibs putting that on a commemorative T-shirt.

So how exactly does a shattered soul such as Doug then rebuild from there? Well it’s simple. You go to the place where, in the words of Fr Stu, “you think God will not follow.” In this case, China*. And we know it’s China because, despite its resemblance to an everyday tract of north American wilderness, we are offered a few subtle clues. Namely the word ‘China’ appearing on screen in massive type and the sudden arrival of a warrior chick in a white martial arts suit and a vaguely racist bamboo peasant hat. Mind you, we don’t get too much of a look at her since she’s busy copping an arrow straight through the chest from a random ninja in the forest. Then comes the indignity of spending her final moments with our hero priest, who takes one look at the gushing bloody wound and arrowhead embedded prominently in her torso and reaches for the obvious question only a man anyone would ask in the circumstances: “Are you hurt?” Honestly, in her shoes, we would have passed him the cursed dinosaur tooth of the Dragon Warrior too.  *note this film predates the arrival of the coronavirus.

By the way, just rewinding matters for a second, I couldn’t help but notice that Doug somehow managed to drive to China ... from the US: Yes, we clocked that too. But rather than get bogged down in logical exploration, let’s just assume Sarah Palin was the film’s geography consultant and move on.

OK, done. Next minute, we’re suddenly back in the US, where Doug is having some bad dreams and feeling hungry* and a prostitute called Carol is being roughed up by her pimp Frankie Mermaid, whose subtle moniker refers to the fact he’s “swimming in bitches”. Frankie old mate, you are so going to die. But not, apparently, before sending Carol out into a dark forest to drum up some business. *if you get what we mean

Wait, is that really where hookers hang out these days? #askingforafriend Well not if they want to make any money, no. But hey, no sacrifice is too great in the pursuit of #plotdevelopment. And just as we type that here it comes, in the form of an armed offender keen to separate Carol from her cash. If only there was someone, anyone, who could just randomly stumble into the forest and rescue our damsel in distress. Oh wait. Is that Fr Doug? Boy, he looks kind of hungry* *if you get what we mean

Next minute: It’s the next morning and a surprisingly buff Fr Doug is in the hooker’s bed. But not like *that*. Because she just wants to chat. Or at least to engage in some very unsophisticated single entendres about how “last night was amazing” even though “it all happened so quickly”. Fortunately her blow by blow* account sets Doug’s mind at ease, except for the bit where he turned into a dinosaur and ate someone. Which he does not believe. Because, and say it with me here religious zealots, “Dinosaurs never existed.” * Wash your mind out with soap - this is a common expression, not a sexual euphenism... yet.

Of course they didn’t. Well I assume she eventually convinces him he’s part velociraptor and that they should use his powers to rid the world of evil. But we don’t want to give away the rest of the movie do we? No, we most certainly do not want to spoil the sure-to-be-hugely-unexpected plot twists of a movie called The Velocipastor. And honestly, half the fun is in the surprises. So instead, let’s just share a few of the queries we asked each other along the way: * Did that guy really just say he’s going to survive the Vietnam War without taking a single hit? I mean, has he ever seen a war movie? * Really? You bought nunchakus to a fight with ninjas? Really? * Wait, does that exorcist have goblin ears?  * Are they honestly going to boink for the first time under a chenille duvet?  * No, I mean seriously, under a chenille duvet????

Wait, if our hero is a priest, then who is the prostitute boinking? Sorry, can’t answer that. But *cough* The Thorn Birds *cough*.

Well at least tell us Frankie Mermaid bites it bad: Again, mum’s the word. But let’s just say confession isn’t always good for the soul, especially when you may or may not be confessing to a certain earlier car bomb murder.

Intriguing. Well to something you can tell us, did the film get good reviews? To answer this let’s turn to our beloved critics over at the IMDB: “This movie cured my cancer and my acne, my asthma is gone and I don't need my glasses anymore.” Nuff said. Final verdict? Yep! And that’s without even mentioning the best ninjas versus dinosaur fight scene EVER committed to film. EVER. Which I really wanted to film and post here but #respectforcopyright.

Vanilla vodkas needed to sit through it (out of 10): None. And that would be true even if we hadn’t just drunk our own body weight in sugar-free soft drink.

[potentiallymrsdevorak]

In Fields of Flowers (The Arcana)

Chapter Five: Tea Roses (I’ll Remember, Always)

Pairing: Julian x Nijah

Summary: Nijah has contracted the plague. How will she spend her last days? Will Julian find a cure in time?

Word Count: 4700~

Author’s Note: Long overdue but this is the final chapter in the series! I’ve really enjoyed writing it but will probably not do another series for a long time! They are a lot of work (if you know me from the last fandom I was in you would know lol). I really hope you guys enjoyed and I will still continue writing!!!

Tagging: @drunkenomnist, @rromanovv, @juliandevoraknsfw

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The first day was not as bad as she anticipated.

Sure, her body ached a little bit, but without noticing the red sclera, she would have never known she was sick.

She was quarantined right away, in the same room she has been in ever since she started treating other patients. Funny how the tables have turned, she thought as Dr. Satrinava came in to run tests on her. Her thumb rubbed against the ring that sat on her finger, twirling the band round and round in anticipation.

“You too, Nijah?”

“Seems so.”

The doctor tisked and shook their head, looking over their notes. “So it says that you saw it this morning right after you woke up. Was there something you may have done to cause the spread of the plague?”

“I took off my mask right after my last patient died.”

“Ah, I see.” Satrinava answered, scribbling frantically in their notes. Nijah knew they were silently judging her, for that was something they had taught all the apprentices not to do a long time ago. “It spreads much quicker than we anticipated…” Muttering a few key notes to themselves, they folded the paper and placed it in their pocket.

The doctor began a series of tests and treatments - some that were quick and practically painless, and some that felt horrible and lasted all day. She was forced to lather herself in animal bile, dance until her feet nearly bled, drink an herbal mixture that tasted nothing like she had imagined, and a few other things that truly made her feel even worse than before.

“Dr. Satrinava...do you think that all of this will work?” Nijah asked as she inhaled the scent of a dead rat through her nostrils. She silently applauded herself from not gagging.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try…” They said before packing up their medicinal cart. “I will be coming back with your dinner soon. Thank you for being cooperative with me today.”

“No problem...as long as the cure is found soon.”

“By the way,” they added, “as you were changing into your patient’s gown, I noticed that there was a document left in here for you.” They handed you a piece of paper, folded ever so perfectly. She knew exactly what this was.

As Dr. Satrinava exited the room, she curled up in the corner of her cot, opening the delicate piece of paper slowly. The way the ink traveled across the paper made her feel a sense of relief, and she swore his scent was embedded in the paper itself. It was as if she was in his arms all over again as her fingers trailed over every single word he had written for her eyes only.

My darling Nijah,

It pains me so much to leave your side. I would even be upset if I was only gone for a day. However, I do not know how long I will be away from you, which breaks my heart the most.

If you are reading this, it means that I am already at the palace in Vesuvia. Funny, isn’t it, that the castle was what brought us together and now it is tearing us apart? It’s a bittersweet irony that I cannot stop thinking about.

But although I cannot be with you now, I want you to know that my heart only longs for you. You’re the one I want to come home to every night, to wake up next to every morning, to spend every waking moment of every day. I can’t stop thinking about it, a life with you is the only thing I want.

One might think how I fell for you so quickly. Call it fate, call it destiny...when I first saw you in the ballroom, I knew I had found the one. You’ve been so kind, so sweet, so caring and loving to a man who doesn’t deserve anything at all...when I’m with you, Nijah, I’m home.

I promise I will marry you. I have another ring picked out so I may properly propose to you. We can take our time or we can rush things...whatever you want. I’m going to give you the life you’ve always wanted.

Wait for me. Please.

I love you,

Dr. Julian Devorak

Nijah held the paper close to her heart and clutched her swollen stomach with the other hand, the tears overflowing from her eyes. She realized she could never give him the future that he deserved.

And that made her feel worse than the plague ever could.

By the second day, her spirits were already low.

When she fell asleep the night before, she felt nothing but emptiness. She missed having Julian by her side, let alone anyone around her, and she tossed and turned in the cot until she finally drifted off to sleep. However, her mind was only filled with nightmares, waking her up after what felt like a few moments of sleep. She could feel the eye bags bulging as she woke up, not even able to be cured by a fresh breeze.

She knew that her body was aching and trembling, so much that even Dr. Satrinava was concerned. They ceased to do too many treatments that day for her sake, but still made their best attempt to give her some relief. But even the leeches weren’t enough.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.” Nijah eyes the parasite sucking her blood out of her. This probably isn’t good for the baby, isn’t it? “It just makes me feel a little more...drained.”

The doctor chuckled under her breath, eyes twinkling a bit as she carefully peeled off the creature. “Even at your worst, you’re still trying your best. I respect that, Nijah.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

They placed the leech back in it’s jar and prepared to leave until tomorrow. “I will have someone else bring your dinner momentarily. I think it might make you feel better than the leeches.”

As if right on cue, there was a knock on the door to the room. The door creaked as another plague mask with a plate of warm food came into view.

“Hello?”

Nijah knew that voice right away, her entire face lighting up. “Katja!” She sprung up out of her seat a little too quickly, making her knees wobble as she fell right back into her spot.

Katja rushed over to her side. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself!” She laughed as she helped Nijah get settled in. She placed a soft blanket over her legs and placed the plate in her lap.

Dr. Satrinava nodded at the two friends, a smile crossing over their features. “Then I will leave you to it, Doctor 193.” And with one last wave, she was gone for the evening.

“Nijah, Nijah...what am I going to do with you?” Katja crossed her arms over her chest. “How in all the seven hells did you catch the plague?”

“I’m not the smartest, you see,” Nijah said with a mouth full of potatoes, “and I took off my mask after my last patient died.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want to fill it with my tears.”

“Oh, that’s right…” Katja remembered their conversation previously in the dining hall, and how Nijah’s best friend from home had to die under her care. “I guess that is valid. Didn’t think the plague would spread so quickly, huh?”

“Definitely not.” Nijah moved on to the meat, chewing it roughly. It was more tender than she was used to.

“Have you heard from Dr. Devorak since you left?” Katja wiggled her eyebrows and gave her a smug grin.

“No, but…” Nijah sighed. “He wrote me a letter that I read yesterday. And he wanted me to stay here until he came back from Vesuvia, but it seems like that will be impossible now.”

Katja’s eyebrows knit sadly, her gloved hand rubbing against Nijah’s leg. “I’m sorry, dear.”

“He wants to marry me, Katja.” She confessed, holding out her ring finger for her friend to see. “He wants to spend the rest of his life with me. And I can’t even give him that.”

Katja’s gaze trailed over to the golden band, shining in the dim light of the room. “It’s beautiful, Nijah…”

“Want to know the worst part?” She choked up, her right hand pressing her stomach. “I’m...I’m pregnant, Katja.” She squeezed her eyes shut, the vulnerability of revealing such a huge secret frightening her.

Katja’s jaw nearly came unhinged from her skull. “Nijah...when were you going to tell me?” She shuffled closer to her friend, holding her ear next to her friend’s stomach. “How far along are you?”

“I have no idea. Jul-I mean, Dr. Devorak and I have...done it many times.”

Her friend’s face twisted in confusion. “Wait a minute. Just how many times are we talking about here?”

“Well…”

And so Nijah told her the whole story, how she met Dr. Devorak as a stranger at the masquerade, how he quite figuratively (and literally) swept her off her feet. From the enchanting first night they spent together to the time he cornered her in his office, telling her to forget that there was anything even between them. How Luka had tried to kill her if she didn’t let him have her body for the night, and how Dr. Devorak saved her life. She didn’t leave out any details, any moments, any words that he may have said. She wanted Katja to know everything.

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders as she finished the story. “And then he had to leave. Just like that. And he still doesn’t know…”

“Nijah…” Katja shook her head and let her gaze cross across the floor.

“And there’s no way he’ll ever know. He’ll never be back in time...to give me the cure…”

Nijah’s eyes overflowed with tears once more, a sensation she has become quite familiar with. She was hopeless by this point. She would never see Dr. Devorak again. She would never tell him that she had been carrying his child for months. She would never get to marry him. She would never spend the rest of her life with him.

In fact, she would be lucky if she even got to take a step outside of the walls of her cell, holding her back as if she was a prisoner. Nothing could save her from this terrible fate.

Katja knew her words couldn’t help her friend this time. As Nijah cried, she held her friend close to her chest, at least trying to give her one last bit of comfort before she was gone forever.

The third day was the worst of them all.

Nijah could barely feel anything but fire burning through her body. It hurt to move, to blink, hell, it even hurt to breathe. The ring and the rest of the clothes made it feel like something was holding her underwater, not giving her any room to catch her breath. Every time she coughed, it was like she was being stabbed in her chest. The blood splatters on the floor and on her hand made it more believable, as well.

She curled up on her side in the cot, not wanting to move a muscle any longer. She was ready to leave this world.

Katja came and saw her one more time. She was surprised to see her dear friend in such a terrible state. It looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, her body was nearly skin and bones, and she looked much paler than normal. The red dots on the ground were what worried her the most

“Wh...what happened here?” She asked with a worried tone, getting down on her knees to examine the spots left all over her side of the room. “You didn’t try to...” she continued, looking at her friend’s wrists.

As if on cue, another cough racked Nijah’s body, blood spurting out of her mouth and landing right at Katja’s feet. She fell deeper into the cot, feeling defeated. She was essentially hopeless.

“Nijah…” Katja muttered, a gloved finger rubbing through the droplets, “This...we’ve never seen something like this in a patient before. Have you?”

Nijah shook her head to the best of her ability. She thought she saw Selene cough up blood, but she couldn’t remember in her state.

“This...this is the biggest breakthrough we’ve made yet!” Katja jumped up, immediately jotting down as many notes as she could. “We can take samples of your blood and run tests on them. Valdemar and Satrinava could send the data results to Dr. Devorak and it could get him closer to the cure for...for…”

Her eyes fell on her dying friend. She had never seen someone she cared for looking so malnourished, so horribly fucked over in this way. A wave of sadness crashed over her mind as she came to sit next to her on the cot. 

“Ah, Nijah...I have a lot to thank you for. Not just for this. But I think you’ve made me better.” Katja took her clean gloved hand and patted her on the back. Nijah winced a bit, taking a gasp of air (that, of course, made her feel much worse).

“Ah, probably not the best thing to do right now.” Katja placed her hand in her lap, interlacing it with her other fingers. “...I mean it, though. Your kindness to me has helped me not be so bitter. Involving me in your life has made me feel like a part of something bigger than myself. I will cherish this friendship forever and ever. I’ll…” she sniffed, holding back tears. “...I’ll never forget you, Nijah.”

As she stood to leave, she opened her coat pocket and pulled out an iris. “I saw this while I was walking the grounds last night...and I think you would want it more than me.”  She placed the flower in front of Nijah’s hands, giving her friend one last smile before she left her forever.

“Goodbye, Nijah. Sweet dreams.”

As she shut the door behind her, Nijah decided to follow her orders, closing her eyes as her fingers gripped the frail flower stem, hoping her dreams would be better than reality.

I’ve been in this place before, she thought.

It was the same flower field from her first time meeting Selene. The same one she saw when she spent her first night with Julian. This was her favorite place. This time, there was no cloudy red skies or thunderstorms. The flowers bloomed gracefully, the sweet fragrances flowing from their buds, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The only thing she could see was life.

And she could feel the life inside of her, Julian’s child. She looked down and saw that her belly had swollen to twice its size underneath her cropped shirt and long pink skirt. She held it tenderly, rubbing it and wondering what her baby would look like when it was finally born. Had she and Julian talked about baby names yet? She kept on imagining that she would name him Azrael, but only time would tell who they will become.

Suddenly, she heard a voice come from behind her. She was surprised to see that Selene had reincarnated herself, wearing a flowing white dress, much different than her usual attire.

“Nijah! You’re here!” She shouted, hopping through the flowers to embrace her friend. She took great care to hold the baby bump, too. For Selene, the child would be like family to her.

As Nijah squeezed her friend around the shoulders, she felt someone else’s presence behind her. “Good to see you’re okay, hun.” That voice had to be Katja, she thought as her own arms held them all together, as if they were three peas inside of a pod. Their feminine scents overwhelmed Nijah’s nose to the point where she was almost dizzy.

“It’s so good to have you all here.” Nijah smiled as her friends released her, joining hands with each of them. These women meant so much to her, and she would be forever thankful for their roles in their lives. She just hoped they knew that.

Before long, a tall figure made their way through the flower beds. Nijah, of course, knew who they were right away.

“Dr. Jules!” She shouted, joined by the giggles of the women right beside her.

As he came even closer, she could see the happiness on his face. Finally, she thought, we can have the life we have wanted for so long. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, his hands cupping her face so perfectly.

“Ah, darling. You look as beautiful as ever.” He crooned, his hands moving down to the bump in her stomach. “And Odine is looking nearly as good as her mother.”

Nijah rolled her eyes. “How are you so sure it will be a girl?”

“I’m a doctor, my dear. I know these things.”

Her knees felt weak as he flashed his signature grin. She couldn’t resist it. He had a hold on her that she could never break free from, and she was just fine with that.

He turned around on his heel, looking back at her over his shoulder. “Are you ready for your next journey to begin?”

Without hesitation, she answered, “Yes.” And together, they all moved forward through the flowers, off into the setting sun.

And in that moment, her hurting soul finally left the world.

Julian was very busy at the palace, doing his best to find a cure. It turned out that Count Lucio had contracted it himself, although unlike the rest of the city, he had managed to have it for weeks and not die. It was a medical mystery to the doctor, but a pain in the ass for his coworker.

“Sometimes, I wish he would just die already.” Asra muttered under his breath as his fingers brushed against the book spines on the shelves in the library. 

Julian rolled his eyes, diving back into his work. For some reason, the magician rubbed him the wrong way. It was something about his cat-like smile making him think he was a suspicious person. His flat-out disdain for the Count was nothing but offensive to him, let alone the entire city. And the way his white hair bounced as he walked...Julian wished he could tame his curls to not have a mind on their own. He was completely jealous.

But, his mind trailed back to the woman who held his affections. He thought of her blonde, flowing hair, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the freckles dotting her cheeks and shoulders that he secretly loved, reminding him of the stars in the sky. He thought of her voice saying his name, her laugh directed at something witty he may have said or that he may have ran into a door frame. He thought of her fingers, touching him delicately across his face, making him feel at peace once again...

A knock on the door jolted Julian’s thoughts. A servant entered the room, a scroll rolled up in his hand.

“Dr. Devorak. This was sent for you.”

“For...me?” He asked, his cheeks feeling warm. He’s never received any sort of letters before, even when he was just beginning his practice.

He thanked the servant and unrolled it right where he stood. But, as he began to read it, he slowly sunk back into his chair, similar to his smile turning into a frown.

Dear Dr. Devorak,

I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately, I am writing this letter to bring you terrible news. Nijah has died of the plague.

She contacted it while taking care of her best friend, Selene, who passed after you left for the palace. Nijah may not have told you...she tended to keep her burdens to herself, didn’t she? Anyways, she caught it quickly after making a fatal mistake after her friend died. Although her mistake was tragic, her symptoms have given us further research to test and send to you in hopes that it will help you find the cure.

She is in a much better place now, Dr. Devorak. She spoke of you so highly, and she is so proud of your accomplishments. She loved you so much. Her final wish was to be buried with the ring you gifted her.

I hope that you continue to work hard so we can find a cure to the plague. We will be sending more research we have found once we have finished our tests. We are all looking forward to your discoveries, Dr. Devorak.

From,

Dr. 193, Katja Kuznetsov

Julian read the letter over and over again. He wished it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. He had been at the palace for less than a week…

And he already lost the one thing that would make this task seem worth it.

Feeling defeated, he slumped over his desk, crumpling the letter in his hands. He felt the tears soaking into the sleeves around his forearms as his shoulders quivered from his emotions. He didn’t care if his sobs were audible or not. He didn’t care what Asra or Count Lucio or anyone thought of him.

His heart had broken completely. The love of his life was gone, because he couldn’t find the cure quickly enough. He had lost the woman who had given his life meaning. And there was no way to get her back.

Unless…

A candle flame went off in his mind. His lifted his head up to face the other man in the room, eyes and face red from his tears. “Asra.” He shouted desperately.

“Dr. De...Julian, are you okay?” Asra arrived to his side, placing a hand on the doctor’s shoulder.

“You are a magician, are you not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I…” Julian hesitated, his voice trembling. “...I just lost someone very near and dear to me. Is there...a way to bring them back?” His vision was filled with sadness, but Asra could see a small glimmer of hope deep in the doctor’s grey eyes.

“Hmm,” Asra contemplated. “There is one way I know how. But it will take a lot of work on my end.” The magician’s hand trailed from Julian’s shoulder to his cheek bones. “What would be in it for me?”

“Oh, please! I’ll do anything you wish. Just please...save her.” Julian got down on his knees, folding his hands together and shaking them pleadingly. He was a man that wasn’t afraid to beg. Especially for the one thing he truly needed in this world.

Asra chuckled under his breath, his hand moving up to the auburn hair and pulling against it roughly, jerking the doctor’s head back. He got down on his knees, pressing a searing kiss right underneath his jawline. Julian squiremed, his face flushing. This felt so wrong, but as Asra’s teeth nipped his skin, he moaned rather loudly. It was definitely feeling so right.

The magician’s mouth drew away, curled in his signature smile. “Meet me at my shop after sunset. There are a few things we need to discuss first.”

Julian’s fingers ghosted over the mark Asra left on his skin. Did that just happen? He thought as he felt the magician’s fingers untangle from his hair. His mind was in a daze. Never before has anyone touched him in such a way. His eyes glazed over as he watched the magician stand to his feet and begin walking out the library. He shook his head, bringing him back to his senses.

“D-do you...want me to walk you home?”

Three years later…

“Wow. What a strange night.” Nijah mutters to herself as she looked out into the dark streets of Vesuvia.

First, her magical master Asra has suddenly left on a journey to another unknown world, one that he was keeping a secret from her. These trips were not unusual to her, but the fact that he was keeping it so secretive made her more suspicious than usual. She knew he was hiding something from her, but what could it be?

Then, the Countess has visited not long after he left, then requested that she move into the castle to assist with some sort of grand plan after she had read her tarot cards. She didn’t mind the countess too much, but knew that Asra would not be happy if she were to up and leave the shop for such a long time. Then again, she was the widow of the wicked Count Lucio, so she may have some evil scheme up her sleeve as well. She wasn’t sure if she could trust her.

What could happen next? She thought as she released the door, her attention turned back into the shop. It had been her home for so long. She didn’t remember how she got it, all she knew was that it was her and Asra’s home. It felt strange to her, though. She never thought she would own a magic store, let alone learn any magic from Asra. The past few years had really been an experience for her, and she felt like in a past life, she would have a calling doing something else.

Oh, dear, she thought. With all this trouble, I completely forgot to feed Gris. I must go bring her the cabbage I promised her. The thought of her manatee familiar all alone made her heart wrench. She started to make her way towards the kitchen to make her animal’s favorite snack.

Then, as the candle in her shop blew out, she froze.

The door had taken much longer for it to shut than normal.

“Strange hours for a shop to keep.”

What the…

She turns her head around, trying to see where the sound is coming from in the dark, only the light of the stars guiding her.

“...Behind you.”

Sure enough, when she turns, she sees a tall, dark figure looming against the door. He continues to speak, his voice muffled by his plague mask:

“Now, sources say that this is the witch’s lair...so who might you be?”

Nijah feels her heart racing in her chest as the masked figure comes closer and closer. What does this doctor want? She furrows her brows, concentrating on conjuring her magical powers. She twirls her fingers as she mutters a spell, a ball of water forming between her hands. She intended it to hit him right in the chest, a defense spell Asra had taught her a long time ago.

“Oh?” He laughs as he grabs her wrist with his gloves, the water between her fingers dissipating into thin air. He has her body trapped against the wall and his towering frame.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

What the hell is she supposed to do now?

“He’s been teaching you all his tricks? Unfortunately for you, I’ve seen them all befo-”

Reaching behind her, fingers grazing along the windowsill, she grabbed a glass bottle and smashed it on his forehead.

“Ack!”

Knocked loose by the blow, the stranger’s mask clatters to the floor. He’s bent over on the stones by her feet, trying to regain his composure. Nijah points the what’s left of the broken bottle in his direction, waiting for the moment she needed to strike again.

Nijah didn’t realize until it was too late that the bottle had been full, the water soaking his hair and the single globe amaranth lying on the floor around him. Bracing herself for the worse, she tightened her grip on the bottle as he slowly brought his head back up

Her racing heart stops cold when he lifts his bloodied gaze to hers, nearly dropping what’s left of the bottle.

“You do have guts.” He stated, his eyebrows furrowed.

She knew this man once. Everyone did. But she felt like she knew him a bit better than others might. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but she assumed she must have known him a long time ago, before her memories were lost. Maybe they were friends? Curly auburn hair, strong nose, pale skin, and those eyes…even though one of them was covered in an eyepatch, she still knew.

The band she felt on her ring finger felt much heavier than it normally did.

“Do...Doctor Jules?”

He gets to his feet once again, brushing the glass off of his coat.

“Haven’t heard that name in years...Nijah.”

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Masterlist

[heartbledwritingcommissions-blog]

The Adventures of Blade, Scythe, and Kiba and the Holy Grail

Commissionee: Fen'Harel on Virtual Space Amino

Length of commission: 2,000-2,500 words

Actual Word Count: 3,518

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Medieval Times

Outline/Prompt: Blade, Scythe, and Kiba; as gods, strive to entertain themselves in any way possible.

The day seemed like any other. Quite frankly a little boring to anyone’s taste. Everything seemed quite bland. Something desperately needed to change. At least, that is what Blade thought to himself as he had sat upon a chair with his most trusted friends and allies sitting next to him. The same friends and allies that he had known for ages. Though the relationship he currently had with them were that of lovers. The three of them were in a polyamorous relationship.

The Demon King sighed heavily and a yawn had escaped him as he rested his cheek against his palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. He needed some sort of stimulation and he felt as though Scythe and Kiba needed it as well. He could see it on the expression that laid on their face.

His scarlet viper-like eyes had set upon their forms and he breathed through his nose, his forked tongue licking his lips slightly. Scythe’s aqua hair draped elegantly down her form to her knees like it always had seemed to be like since the moment he had met her in the camp up in the mountains after her father and mother had saved him, Kim and Amity. She had dawned on a long elegant white dress. It was nothing fancy, just something simple and plain as it was her outfit for hanging around the castle when it was most likely just the three of them around without much if any disturbances from apprentices or minions. She lightly tapped her fingers on the table in front of her to a soft beat she had in her head, though she knew not where it had come from. Perhaps it was her mother or on one of their adventures to a different world to cure their boredom. Which it seemed like they had needed right about now.

Meanwhile, Kiba had dawned on a black short sleeved shirt with matching black pants. He had sat in his chair backwards with his chin resting on the top of the chair. His deep purple eyes had a bored sunken expression set into them. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists in pure boredom in attempts to entertain himself just a little, but to no avail. His black wolf ears on the top of his head had twitched subconsciously. His fingers had tapped incessantly on the wooden table in front of all of them.

They currently resided in the dining hall of the large castle that Blade had acquired from becoming the Demon King from the previous Demon King, Scythe’s father. It wasn’t quite time to eat nor were any of them all that hungry either. Blade had had enough of this boredom and decided that he needed to take it into his own hands to entertain them as well as himself. He rose from his chair and in a single movement, he had reached his two closest allies, friends, and lovers. “Come, let’s find something to entertain us. Perhaps another land. One we have not visited previously. I’m feeling a little medieval, how about you two?” He had proposed as he had taken both of their hands and led them out of the room into another as he had opened up a door with his spiked onyx tail. Inside of that door sat a large swirling portal that took up the entire space of the door.

Neither Kiba nor Scythe had disagreed with him and went with Blade regardless if they had any qualms about accompanying him on a new adventure to cure their boredom. In fact, they had all looked to one another and exchanged smiles. Blade glanced down at Scythe and over to Kiba, asking them without saying a word if they were ready to begin something new, go on a new adventure in hopes of curing their boredom. Since they had all known one another for so long, words were not as apparent or necessary as they once were when they were all children. The Dread Wolf God had nodded his head, the Half-Angel Half-Demon had followed suit with a nod of her own.

Together, they all walked into the portal hand-in-hand. The portal disappeared in a spiral pattern as the three of them had passed through it. It spat them out in a different time period, in a different land. It was not quite immediately apparent where the portal had spat them out in besides it being in the Medieval era.

It all became clear when they had spotted 12 knights riding atop of horses with a certain crest upon the saddles of the horses. It had red fabric with a golden dragon sewn onto it. It was the crest of Camelot. The streets were filled with cobblestone ground and cobblestone walls around the kingdom. There were many houses made of planks of wood on this lower part of the kingdom’s land. The three of them looked up towards the large brick castle. The same crest that was on the horses’ saddles was hanging on the castle attached to poles.

Blade wore a smile on his face as he knew where they were, what role he could put himself into. He would put himself into the role of King Arthur Pendragon while Kiba as Sir Lancelot and Scythe as Guinevere. It was simple for him to transform himself into King Arthur and help the others get into their roles for the new ‘game’ of theirs.

He certainly couldn’t hold himself back when he took on this role. He was excited to see what would unfold this time around with this new ‘game’. The others seemed to have their own excitement and they seemed to not mind in the least in fitting themselves into their roles. Blade’s form had changed from the scarlet hair and eyes along with forked tongue and spiked tail to something more fitting to the part. His hair had quickly changed from a scarlet hue to a golden blond, his eyes changing from the scarlet viper eyes to a more pleasant blue color. He had seemed to lose the tail and his tongue had merged into a normal human tongue. He had applied a restraint to his powers to make him more human to fit the role. He had transformed his clothing as well to something more suitable. His normal clothing that consisted of a grey coat with a lighter grey fur collar, a black shirt and matching black pants to a white shirt with a light tan jacket and maroon pants.

Scythe had changed into a more fitting aqua dress with long sleeves that had split at the elbows for accessibility to be able to do more with the ability to roll up her sleeves if she must to keep them from getting dirty. She wore flat black shoes made from fabric with some sort of...almost rubbery substance at the sole of the shoe to keep the bottoms from getting wet or ruined in an attempt to make them last longer.

Kiba had changed a Knight of the Round Table outfit which consisted of chainmail armor with a large piece of fabric with the Camelot crest thrown over the chainmail armor. It was to show that he had represented the Kingdom of Camelot and that he was the Knight of the Round Table to those who knew what all the garb had meant. Once he had changed into his complete outfit, he had made his way over to a well and glanced at his reflection, grinning to himself a bit. “Hey, I look good in all of this garb. I may keep it for later.” He said mainly to himself, though he knew that his two partners had heard exactly what he said and knew what he had implied with the inflection he had given to it. It was a sly little inflection towards the last sentence that implied much more of something that a child wouldn’t be able to pick up on, but most adults would. Like Scythe and Blade.

Scythe had followed suit to see what she had looked like with this Medieval dress on. It wasn’t much different than what she would normally wear around the castle or around anywhere really. But it did have an air of appeal to it that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She hummed softly to herself. “I may have to keep this outfit as well. It is very fitting.” The dress had fallen at just the right length on her, just barely skirting the ground. As she was looking at her reflection, a crown had materialized up on her head, but more feminine than the one that now laid on Blade’s head.

Blade was ecstatic that both Scythe and Kiba had been so enthusiastic on the choice of destination he had for this new ‘game’ of theirs. Especially being excited for the roles that he had chosen them to play. He seemed to know what roles they had all preferred during any of the ‘games’ they had played. He wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders’ and pulled them close to his form in a friendly manner. Kiba seemed a little less than enthusiastic manner about all of that, but he went along with it as best as he could for the moment. He half-expected Blade to take the leading role like he always had, but it would cure the boredom in the end so he wasn’t too upset. “Come on, let’s get going. We have Camelot to rule.” He mentioned as he had escaped the grasp of Blade and pointed up to the large castle in front of them.

“Right! Time for us to play another ‘game’ shall we.” Scythe said in a gentle tone as she had glanced up at the two males in front of her, past the hold of Blade.

It didn’t take them a lot of time to walk their way to the castle and through the village in the lower part of the kingdom. They had each played through roles effectively, perfectly nailing what they would do or say to the village people while they trekked to the castle. It was a touch farther to make it to the throne room and Blade had sat down in the King’s chair while Scythe had sat in the Queen’s chair, Kiba found himself leaning against a pillar that was to the left of the King’s chair. In this case, Kiba was in the role of Sir Lancelot and being the King and Queen’s bodyguard in the ‘game’ of theirs in Camelot.

A half an hour had passed before a few royal guards had entered into the throne room. “King Arthur and Queen Guinevere! We have heard word that the Holy Grail has been located inside the Forest of the Lost inside of a dark cavern! The very same one that has been said none have returned from alive to tell the tale.” They all had said this in unison or rather as best they could in unison, two or three of them had said just a fraction of a second later than the others.

Blade, acting as King Arthur, had nodded his head and stood tall from his throne. “Thank you for informing me. I shall go with my best Knight of the Round Table, Sir Lancelot to find the Holy Grail and bring it back to Camelot.” He responded to the guards, later glancing at his ‘Sir Lancelot’ Kiba and then over to his ‘Queen Guinevere’ Scythe. He had taken Scythe’s hand and kissed the back of her palm. “I shall return to you safely, I promise.” His tone was soft and caring, as ‘King Arthur’ should be to his queen. He had received a kiss on the cheek in return for the one he had given her on the back of her hand. “Please do. I shall be waiting for you in our quarters.” Scythe as ‘Queen Guinevere’ said in her soft and gentle tone.

With the formalities out of the way, ‘Sir Lancelot’ and ‘King Arthur’ had set off to the Forest in search of the cave for the fabled Holy Grail. The other Knights were busy after returning from their journey to hunt and gather resources for Camelot, returning to their wives and children. This left only ‘Sir Lancelot’ Kiba to follow ‘King Arthur’ Blade on his journey to find the Holy Grail.

The journey to the Forest of the Lost had been a tedious one, but it was rather fun in Blade’s eyes. Sure he had ridden on horseback plenty of times when they would play a ‘game’, but being ‘King Arthur’ that was different and new for him. To be a ruler of such a prestigious and well known Kingdom in may of the versions of Earth was quite exhilarating. It was fun and he was rather giddy about the whole thing inside as he was playing the role perfectly with his ability to do so as it paired with his shapeshifting ability.

The ride through the Forest of the Lost an oddly peaceful one with just the two of them on their horses. They were clad in some chainmail armor with their swords strapped to their sides. The Forest of the Lost was hardly a well traveled place as not many were known to return back from traversing in it. They didn’t have a lot of company. Playing the ‘King Arthur’ role, Blade knew roughly of the whereabouts of this cave where the supposed Holy Grail was located. But Kiba being as ‘Sir Lancelot’ had been well versed in the lay of the land as they say.

Though it was curious that a pair of the guards had found out about the whole thing if a small amount of people had been known to not return from the Forest let alone this cave where the Holy Grail had been found.

But that wouldn’t matter in this story, would it? Though a little bit of help from some supernatural powers would make it possible for the King of Camelot to learn about the whereabouts about some relic. Kiba was no fool to such helpful mystic forces, but it did make it entertaining nonetheless with this ‘game’ of theirs. It seemed to all fit into the theme of their ‘game’ and into the roles that they had. Camelot was known for their magical influences. He found himself smiling over towards the ‘King Arthur’ form of Blade and he found it rather ravishing to look at. Granted, he thought the same about Scythe and her outfit as Guinevere. “This way, sire. The cave that we seek should only be another five minute ride if we take this trail.” Kiba said in the role of ‘Sir Lancelot’ while pointing towards the somewhat clear dirt path that had a mysterious imprint of hooves in the mud. “I shall follow your lead, Sir Lancelot. Ride on.” Blade said as ‘King Arthur’, nodding his head and directing his noble steed with a tug of the reins to the path ‘Sir Lancelot’ had pointed out. Kiba had tugged on his steed’s reins and whipped them once, speaking the command to make the horse head in the direction it had been directed towards. The ride was indeed a short one and when they had reached their destination, there was a large cave entrance that seemed to span half of the height of the large pine trees surrounding it. There were pinecones settling at the base of the cave entrance and a few leaves from the other types of trees that circled around this cave.

The cave itself seemed to have sprung out of nowhere by magic. There was a mysterious aura surrounding the entrance. Something seemed to draw Blade in. Something strange. He had no clue what it was, but he assumed that it was the Holy Grail. He had whipped the reins, causing the horse to move forward towards the cave. The horse had stopped as if a forcefield was keeping it at bay. Blade dismounted from the horse and proceeded closer to the entrance, Kiba following suit.

They had entered the cave with ease, nothing seemed to feel any different once they were inside. At least not to ‘Sir Lancelot’. Something had drew in ‘King Arthur’.

Blade traversed forward, lighting a torch with a flint he had in a pouch. The dark cave had become lit instantly. The cave begun to shake and a large segment of the cave had dropped down from the ceiling causing a piece of rock to block Kiba from following Blade. Kiba tried to move the boulder, but to no avail. It was heavier than what he could currently lift in this form and certainly his role in this ‘game’ wouldn’t be able to move it. “Sire! I can not move the boulder! You will have to move on without me!” He called out from behind the rock.

“I am so sorry for this ‘Sir Lancelot’, if I had known, I wouldn’t have insisted that you come with me.” He called back, pressing his hand against the boulder between them. “I shall return with the Holy Grail.” With that, he had set off further into the cave with the only source of light he had from the torch taken from the cave wall.

The length of the cave had seemed endless. Like it could go on forever. This was not the case, however. After about three meters of walking, Blade had found a large open area of the cave with three tunnels ahead of him. He listened closely to each tunnel before he had chose the one in the center after he felt the same force that had pulled him towards the entrance, pull him towards the center tunnel. After traversing to the end of the tunnel, he had found a large body of water.

A large womanly form had emerged from the center of the water and sprung to his height. The woman had looked divine with all of her curves and made from the water she had come from. “Are you here for the Holy Grail?” The woman had asked, turning its gaze over to ‘King Arthur’ and raised a watery eyebrow, tipping her head to the side. “Yes, m’lady. I am here for the Holy Grail. What must I do to attain such an artifact?” Blade asked, following what his role had dictated him to do.

The woman would have normally looked scorned or angry that yet another male had wanted the grand artifact that was the Holy Grail that she had currently possessed. But she did not feel that way towards this man. This ‘King Arthur’. She wondered why that was, though brushing it aside after a small while. “You must simply answer a question I have for you. If you answer correctly, I shall give you the Holy Grail.” “Anything, m’lady.” Blade responded kindly as to his role as ‘King Arthur’. “Ask what you must.”

“What are you willing to sacrifice in order to attain the Holy Grail? Your money? Your kingdom? Your people? A few foot soldiers?” The woman had asked, now towering over ‘King Arthur’ as she waited for her answer.

Blade took a deep breath before answering truthfully as to what he would sacrifice for the grand artifact, though as ‘King Arthur’ would have. “I would sacrifice myself. I would sacrifice my life so my people could have the Holy Grail. I would sacrifice everything about myself and leave it all to my people.”

The woman had seemed to be pleased by the answer and shrunk back to his height. “Is that your final answer?” She questioned gently.

“Yes.” Blade answered simply. He was expecting that he would end up ‘dying’ in this ‘game’ because of his answer. Though it was the truest answer he could have given with his role as ‘King Arthur’.

With one large sweep of the woman’s hand, the Holy Grail had appeared in the hands of Blade, untarnished. She simply nodded her head and everything had gone black for Blade.

He had woken up later in his quarters with both Kiba and Scythe standing over him. ‘Guinevere’ had two chalaces in her hands filled with wine, one for him and one for herself. ‘Sir Lancelot’ had one for himself, filled to the brim with the wine. “You did it, my love. You attained the Holy Grail. The entire kingdom wants to celebrate.” She said softly, smiling over towards her ‘husband’.

Blade was pleased with himself about that fact. He thought that it was all an illusion casted upon him from the water woman from the cave. Though it was not. “Let us celebrate our own ways, shall we?” He asked, his blue eyes turning back into their scarlet viper hues. With that, they had managed to cure their boredom and the three of them had become one in a sense of the word in their own forms, but with the same Camelot outfits they had dawned on for this ‘game’ of theirs.

[sangster-imagines]

Staying With You

Summary: The idea about going to Denver without Newt comes up, but you don’t want to leave him.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Word Count: 1340

Warnings: Spoilers for the book, The Death Cure

A/N: I’m so sorry for the lack of imagines for the past few weeks, I’ve been busy with the holidays. Hope you enjoy this imagine! 

After flying in the Berg they escaped in for ten hours, Minho called a Gathering.

In the Gathering, Brenda and Jorge brought up the idea of going into Denver to get the chips in their brains removed. They claimed that this would remove WICKED’s ability to control the teens.

In the end, after an hour of arguing and going back and forth and coming full circle a dozen times, they decided—unanimously—to go to Denver. They planned to land the Berg at a private airport with the story that they were Immunes looking for a government transport job. They’d be tested and branded as immune to the Flare, which would allow them access to the city. All except Newt, who—because he was infected—would have to stay on the Berg until they figured something out.

They ate a quick meal; then Jorge went off to pilot the ship. He said he wanted everyone to take a nap since it would take a few more hours to reach the city.

You grabbed a blanket and curled up on a couch. It took you a while before you fell asleep. During that time, your mind was swimming with thoughts.

*･ﾟ✧

After a few hours, you woke up to Newt shaking you awake.

“What’s happening now?” You groaned.

“Tommy called another gathering.”

You rolled your eyes and got up. Together, you and Newt walked over to where the Gathering was.

As they sat down for the second Gathering of the day, Thomas made them all swear to keep their mouths shut until he was finished. They’d grouped the chairs near the cockpit of the Berg so Jorge could hear it all. Thomas then began to tell them about each dream he’d had—memories of his life as a kid, being taken by WICKED when they found out he was immune, his training with Teresa, all of it.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Minho said. “Just makes me hate WICKED even more. Good thing we left, and I hope I never have to see Teresa’s shuck face again.”

“Brenda’s a bloody princess compared to that know-it-all,” Newt said.

You nodded in agreement.

“Um... thanks?” Brenda replied with an eye roll.

“When did you change?” Minho blurted out.

“Huh?” Brenda replied.

“When did you become so shuck crazy against WICKED? You’ve worked for them, you did all those things they wanted you to do in the Scorch. You were all ready to help them put that mask on our face and mess with us all over again. When and how did you come so strongly over to our side?”

Brenda sighed. “I have never been on their side. Never. I’ve always disagreed with how they operate—but what could I ever do on my own? Or even with Jorge? I’ve done what I needed to do to survive. But then I lived through the Scorch with you guys and it made me realize… well, it made me realize that we have a chance.”

“Brenda, do you think WICKED will start forcing us to do things? Start messing with us, manipulating us, whatever?” Thomas asked, changing the subject.

“That’s why we need to find Hans.” She shrugged. “I can only guess what WICKED will do. Every other time I’ve seen them control someone with the device in their brain, that person has been close and under observation. Since you guys are running and they have no way of seeing exactly what you’re doing, they might not want to risk it.”

“Why not?” Newt asked. “Why don’t they just make us stab ourselves in the leg or chain ourselves to a chair until they find us?”

“Like I said, they’re not close enough,” Brenda answered. “They obviously need you guys. They can’t risk you getting hurt or dying. I bet they have all kinds of people coming after you. Once they get close enough to observe, then they might start doing things to mess with your head. And I have a pretty good feeling they will—which is why getting to Denver is a must.”

“We’re going and that’s that. And I say we wait a hundred years before we have another meeting to talk about stuff.” Thomas said.

“Good that,” Minho said. “I’m with you.”

Everyone looked at Newt, including you. You wanted to hear his answer before yours. You already knew what you were going to do, though. You had thought about it before you went to sleep. You were going to stay with Newt, and not go to Denver.

“I’m a Crank,” the older boy said. “Doesn’t matter what I bloody think.”

“We can get you into the city,” Brenda said, ignoring him. “At least long enough to have Hans work on your head. We’ll just be really careful to keep you away fr—”

Newt stood up in a blur of speed and punched the wall behind his chair. “First of all, it doesn’t matter if I have the thing in my brain—I’m gonna be past the Gone before too long anyway. And I don’t wanna die knowing I ran around a city of healthy people and infected them.”

No one said anything.

Newt’s expression darkened. “Well, don’t hurt yourselves tryin’ to talk me into it,” he finally growled. “We all know WICKED’s fancy cure is never gonna work, and I wouldn’t want it to. Not much to live for on this piece-of-klunk planet. I’ll stay on the Berg while you guys go into the city.” He turned and stomped away, disappearing around the corner to the common area. What he said made your heart hurt.

“That went well,” Minho muttered. “Guess the Gathering is over.” He got up and walked away.

You sighed and got up from your seat, following after Newt. You soon found him in a room, sitting on a couch with his head in his hands. He lifted his head as soon as he heard your footsteps.

“What do you want?” He growled.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m not going to Denver.”

“Wha—”

“I’m staying with you. And don’t start trying to argue with me and make me go. It’s my choice and it’s final. I told you now so maybe you would have time to get over it.” You turned around and walked out of the room, not giving him a chance to retort back.

*･ﾟ✧

The next day, Thomas, Brenda, Minho, and Jorge left early in the morning. The first day they were gone, you and Newt didn’t speak to each other. After that, though, you started talking more and more. For the majority of each day you two would lay on the couch in each other’s arms, talking about the most random things, or nothing at all. It was peaceful, until they came.

It was the fourth day. You and Newt were lying peacefully as normal, until you heard the sound of footsteps. You and Newt stood up quickly, looking at the entrance to the Berg, where you heard the noise. You shared a glance, and walked slowly towards it, thinking it was the others. How wrong you were.

It turned out that it was some people from a nearby place, called the Crank Palace. After testing you and Newt to see if you had the Flare, they figured out that Newt had it.

They pointed their guns at you.

“Don’t make us use force,” The woman in the front said.

You grabbed tightly onto Newt’s arm. “You’re not taking him. He’s not dangerous!”

“Soon he’ll become a Crank.”

Newt shook off your hand and stepped forward, giving himself up.

“No!” You yelled, trying to grab onto Newt again until he was grabbed and yanked by his arm. The men standing slightly behind the woman still had their guns trained on you, fingers on the trigger.

The woman led Newt out of the Berg. After they were gone, the men slowly walked backwards, not turning around.

After they left, you were in despair. You knew once the others came back, you had to go find Newt.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Infandum - Definitions: Abominable, Monstrous, Unspeakable, Unutterable.

Image is a detail from “The Procession of the Trojan Horse in Troy” by Domenico Tiepolo (1773)

In 1789 George Washington prayed in St. Paul’s Church, on what we now call lower Broadway, on the day of his inauguration as the first president of the United States. The churchyard was already old. On September 11, 2001, several new corpses were lying on the old graves. Then quickly a temporary morgue was set up in a nearby hotel. All that the founding fathers stood for was contradicted in a thunderous attack on the heart of the city that calls itself the capital of the world.

Grown children had grown accustomed to taking prosperity for granted and had often scorned the virtues that created the prosperity. The frenzied celebrations of the third millennium were largely conspicuous for their cheerful banality. There were fireworks but no great blazing works of art. A generation after men went to the moon, celebrants did circles on Ferris wheels; in London a dome was built with no particular purpose in mind and was hastily filled with just about everything except an altar to God. The general euphoria was tinged with melancholy, almost like that of Alexander with no more worlds to conquer. What to do with endless peace? Some said that history had ended. Then came an airplane flying so low in a city that usually does not notice noise of any kind, that I had to take notice.

Crowds screamed and ran when the first tower fell; when the second came down, many just sat stupefied on the ground and groaned. Those buildings were not widely loved by New Yorkers. In the 1960s when Penn Station was dismantled, they were built with the rebarbative euphoria of the “International School,” whose architects and sycophantic political backers defied everything that had gone before. An architect famously complained that the towers “tilted” the Manhattan skyline.

They stood, nonetheless, tall evangels of great enterprise, and at night when their cold steel was a shadow and their lights flooded the harbor, they could stun sullen eyes. Those who saw them collapse felt a collapse in themselves. About 25 percent of the onlookers are said to have had post-traumatic stress, a syndrome that can be traced back to the silence of our first ancestors as they left Eden in shock. Helpless reporters, kept at a distance, heard from eyewitnesses responses like that of Aeneas when Dido asked him to recount the loss of his ships and sailors: “Infandum, regina, iubes renovare dolorem” (Oh queen, you bid me retell a tale that should not be uttered).

The horrific shock treatment of September 11 has rattled three modern assumptions. The first was the politicized dismissal of natural law. George Washington in his pew at St.Paul’s believed in the inalienable right to life. The primacy of natural law was vindicated when people at the World Trade Center struggled to rescue one another, often sacrificing their lives to do so. A man leaving his apartment to go to work in one of the towers heard his wife crying that she was going into labor. Instead of going to his office, he took her to the hospital and watched his baby enter the world as his building collapsed. The baby’s first act was to save his father. In a world of carnage in Bethlehem, men once heard the cry of the baby who saves all those who call upon Him, through all ages, even as late as September 11, 2001. The thousands of lives crushed on that day will make it harder to say that life doesn’t count.

Secondly, the holy priesthood has been a victim of modern assault. God’s gift of priestly intercession had recently become an object of incomprehension and mockery. Books were written on how the priesthood might be reformed out of existence. A saint once said that a priest is a man who would die to be one. On September 11, a chaplain of the New York City Fire Department, Rev. Mychal Judge, was crushed by debris while giving the last rites to a dying fireman. Members of his company carried Father Judge to New York’s oldest Catholic church a few blocks away and laid him on the marble pavement in front of the altar. Each knelt at the altar rail before going back to the flames. I stayed a while and saw the blood flow down the altar steps. Above the altar was a painting of Christ bleeding on the cross—the gift of a Spanish king and old enough for St. Elizabeth Ann Seton to have prayed before it. More than local Catholic history was encompassed in that scene. For those who had forgotten, the Eucharist is a sacrifice of blood, and it is the priest who offers the sacrifice. September 11 gave an indulgent world, and even delicate catechists, an icon of the priesthood.

The fall of the towers quaked modern man’s third error: his contempt for objective truth. The whole world said that what happened on September 11 was hideously wrong, and suddenly we realized how rarely in recent times we have heard things that are hideous and wrong called hideous and wrong. So many firemen wanted to confess before entering the chaos that we priests gave general absolution. They would not have wanted to confess if they didn’t know the portent of the moment; nor would they have made the sign of the cross if they thought existence was a jumbled quilt of inconsequential opinions. A rescue worker next to me boasted that his lucky penny and his little crucifix had saved him when he was tossed ten feet in the air by the reverberations of falling steel. He got up, brushed himself off, and went back into the bedlam. If he was superstitious, he was only half so. The Holy Father has often been patronized by savants who thought that his description of a “culture of death” was extravagantly romantic pessimism. They have not spoken like that since September 11.

A crowd of people blinded by smoke were panicking in a Wall Street subway exit. One man calmly led them to safety. He was blind, and he and his seeing-eye dog knew every corner of that station. One might say—and if one were rational, one would have to say—that each generation, culturally blinded in ways peculiar to its age, is offered a hand to safety by people whose holiness is often considered a handicap. At the World Trade Center, rescued men and women were heard to use words like “guardian angel” and “savior.” Days later, confession lines were long and congregations stood in the streets outside packed churches. One waits to see if grace will build upon grace.

Perhaps it would be naive to hope that a new Christian consciousness suddenly and smoothly will arise. On a train a few days after the attack, I sat next to a teenager wearing the ritual garb of his atomistic tribe, backwards baseball cap and such. When I recounted how rescuers had kept rushing into 240,000 tons of collapsing ironwork without any apparent thought for themselves, he replied in a voice coached by the sentinels of self-absorption: “They must be sick.” It will take more than one September day to humanize a generation.

We were attacked on what was to have been the day of the primary elections for the city’s mayoral office. One police-man, speaking through a gas mask, gasped how all this chaos made all those candidates and all their “issues” seem so small. (That is only the gist of what he said; he used sturdy monosyllabic Tudor metaphors appropriate to the passion of the moment.) I do not see that problem being quickly cured. William Clinton, still unaccustomed to his reduced place in life, arrived on the scene the day before the president. The spectacle of his pumping up oceans of empathy in front of cameras carried bad taste to a length he had not managed even in the White House. Sobered by the day’s events, the media virtually ignored him. As a chronicler said of Napoleon, “He embarrassed God.” Within days, an organist from another state faxed offers of special fees to parishes whose organists could not manage the number of funerals. A company from Maine advertised hand-held devices that send sonic vibrations to soothe grief.

Such inanities of the human race can only be understood as little burps from Beelzebub’s inferior minions. Beelzebub did not win the day against courage. In a World War II speech, Churchill paraphrased St. Thomas Aquinas in describing courage as the foundational quality for all the virtues. The politicians of his day who wanted compromise with evil do not share a place on his plinth, and nations that were neutral then do not boast of it now. When asked about evacuating Elizabeth and Margaret Rose during the blitz, Queen Elizabeth famously said that the princesses “will not leave unless I leave, and I will not leave unless the King leaves, and the King will not leave.” On September 11, through the roaring and crashing and screaming, it may be that many began to hear Christ the King as if for the first time: “I am with you always until the end of the world.”

Written by: Fr. George W. Rutler

[daringdragons]

[Pictured: Mira, Thain, Kepi, Ameria]

@veldeien @shadowdrac-rising @sweetheart-swan @dragonhomeclan @jadedragons @fr-lore-hub if anyone else wants to be tagged in future lore of mine, just ask! :3

Shifting Winds Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, tag for all related stories to this arc, general story tag ~

recommended listening: x x

And Then There Was Three; its hard to shake the feeling, these phonies make my blood run cold

-

Mira didn’t want to murder somebody in the throne room. Truly, she didn’t. It wouldn’t reflect well on the kingdom in the eyes of other clans, and it would be impossible to get the blood out of the tapestries.

Nonetheless. A certain fellow advisor of hers was testing her limits, and really, it was only a matter of time before she snapped.

Mira was born into a noble Maren family, to a very well respected king and queen. From the start, she was afforded the best education, covering a wide range of topics, even those not related to her people, and when she wasn’t taking her lessons, she was observing her father in his kingly duties. When she made the decision to leave her parents’ kingdom under the sea, she spent quite a while traveling around Sornieth, educating herself further in every way she could. Then, after she had found a home in Roava, she had served as the king’s primary advisor, and, if she said so herself, had done a very fine job of counseling him.

So, when Thain, the healer, the new queen’s friend, came in with his sneers and scoffs at her guidance and input, with his constant arguments and his know-it all-attitude, Mira couldn’t help but find herself just a tad bit homicidal.

Despite such urges, she liked to think of herself as level-headed, within reason. Sure, she was strong enough to put most dragons in their place with a little bit of force, but she had been taught that it was always best to at least attempt to talk things out first.

Which she had been trying to do. For the past two months. Every time Thain disagreed with what she had to say, she tried to explain to him the sense in her ideas, all the while gritting her teeth that she had to explain herself at all. Things began to escalate, though, more and more as the weeks went on, until not a day could go by without at least one venomous exchange of words between the two.

Things with Rasmus had been different. He was no puppet, and she no puppetmaster, but he had understood that when it came to running a kingdom, she had the knowledge that he needed. Of course, there had been times when he had disagreed with what she had to say, had gone against her advice, and that was fine; she was there to advise, to offer guidance, not to argue him into submission.

At first, she had thought that being Kepi’s advisor would be much the same - she knew the new queen, considered her almost family, and had thought that the respect she felt towards her went both ways.

And perhaps it did, but one wouldn’t quite know it by the way that Kepi often kept quiet as Mira and Thain argued and sniped at each other, the once tranquil throne room feeling more and more like a battleground.

(There were times, few and far between, when the queen would finally intervene, snapping at Thain to stop, to let Mira speak her piece. Those were small victories, tainted by the glares between Kepi and Thain that would follow, causing Mira to wonder, not for the first time, just who was in charge.

Mira rarely had moments alone with Kepi, and when she did, those thoughts were always on the tip of her tongue, questions of if there was something the new queen needed to tell her, if there was anything she needed to know about the mysterious iceborn healer. Something always stopped her from voicing such questions, though; someone interrupting, or the need to discuss important matters regarding the kingdom. Months later, perhaps, she would wonder what might’ve happened had she not been so damn hesitant.)

Things came to a head just over three months after Rasmus had fallen into his coma, two months since Kepi’s coronation. They had been gathered at the small, round table that often sat in the middle of the throne room, parchment spread out as they went over any issues that needed attending to; Thain and Mira sat across from each other, on either side of Kepi, while Ameria, the queen’s assistant and occasional advisor, sat across from her.

Thain had shown up only a few minutes prior, and while Mira attempted to focus on what she was reading, she could just tell that Thain was gearing up to say something, something that she knew she wouldn’t like. His brow was furrowed, his lip twitching as though he wanted to smirk, but knew that he shouldn’t; both things she had come to recognize as meaning something vile was about to spill from his mouth.

She could not of predicted just what he was going to say, though, and had she been able to, she very well might of punched him in his face before he could even say a word, consequences be damned.

“I’ve just come from checking on your brother, Kepi,” He began with no preamble, leaning forward. The queen, busy with reading the parchment in her hand, looked up, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“And how is he doing today? Any changes?”

While Ravi, the king’s son, was his father’s primary healer, Thain often checked in to see how he might be able to help.

“I’m afraid not, no, though he remains stable.” The queen “hmmed” in response, her attention already returning to other matters.

“I have been thinking, though,” The healer continued after a brief pause, and Mira braced herself for whatever Thain had been thinking about. “And I believe that perhaps I should take over his care.”

Mira froze, Thain’s words taking a few long moments to properly register in her mind, and even then, she was sure she must have misheard him; she was even more sure that she must have also misheard Kepi’s response.

“That sounds fine to me, so long as it won’t interfere with your duties here.”

The conversation continued, but it was a quiet buzz in Mira’s ears, a dull roar overtaking her thoughts until she finally interrupted with a very quiet:

“What?”

All eyes turned to her, but her own gaze was locked onto Thain, as he narrowed his eyes at her, sensing a challenge.

“Is something the matter, Mira?” He prodded, feigning innocent curiosity.

“You…you can’t just…what about Ravi?”

“What about him?”

““What about him?” He’s already caring for the king, why would you need to take over?” Thain had the gall to roll his eyes and Mira had to grip the table with both hands to prevent herself from lunging at him.

“He’s much too close to the whole situation. If we have any hope of ever finding a way to wake up our queen’s poor brother, it won’t be through him. He’s so…emotional. It’s clouding his judgement, and I simply don’t think that-”

The healer was cut off by hands slapping roughly against the table as Mira stood, towering above them all, the wood nearly splintering beneath her hands. She was an imposing sight, and she knew it.

“That’s enough,” She practically snarled, her eyes swirling whirlpools of rage. “I’ve sat here for two long months and listened to you argue with me at every turn, give horrible advice, and just be an all around terrible presence, but I will not sit by and let you speak that way about Ravi.”

Ravi was family, her mate’s brother, a shining light among them before all of the stress of his father’s sudden illness came crashing down upon him.

(She often looked at Ravi and saw the little brother she left behind at home, sweet and loving and entirely too empathetic.)

Mira could let most arguments between her and Thain lie, had grown increasingly numb towards her advisor related duties, but this was different, this was Ravi, and the odds of her shoving her trident through the healer’s chest in the near future had just increased tenfold.

“Of course he’s emotional, it’s his father, but if you think for one moment that he would allow his emotions to cloud his judgement or get in the way of finding some sort of cure, then you’re an even bigger fool than I previously thought.”

Thain stood as well, a cold fury burning in his eyes, and oh how Mira wished for him to give her a reason, an actual, plausible reason for her to attack him in this moment. If he struck first, nobody would be able to quite blame her for whatever may happen next.

“How dare you, you will regret-”

“Stop,” The queen hissed, standing as well, clearly sensing just how close Mira was to leaping across the table. “Stop it, the both of you. I will not have any more fighting between you two. Thain, sit down.”

As the Nocturne begrudgingly did as she said, Kepi turned her gaze to Mira, softening slightly. Mira was coming to realize just how good of an actor the queen was, knowing that the way that her face turned sympathetic, her tone grew quiet, was all just an act. A good one, but not one that Mira was going to fall for any longer

“Mira, I know that it’s difficult to hear, but I trust Thain in this. If he says that Ravi is no longer fit, then I wish only to relieve Ravi of at least some of his stress, and for Rasmus’ situation to receive the best possible attention.”

Mira couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she was quick to make that clear.

“If you seriously believe that he will do any better than Ravi, Ravi who is doing everything in his power to bring Rasmus back to us, then perhaps you’re a fool as well.”

(Mira realized in that moment that perhaps not all of the anger that she’d been feeling had been because of Thain.)

Kepi’s face instantly darkened, hardening as she straightened up, any trace of sensitivity gone as she spoke.

“Get out of my throne room. Now.”

Later, maybe Mira would regret her words, falling too quickly from her mouth before she could filter herself, but for now she simply gave a mirthless laugh.

“Gladly,” She spat, knocking her chair to the ground as she turned and stormed out of the room.

All the while, Ameria stayed silent in her seat, the normally talkative Spiral deciding it best to stay out of everything. It’s not that she didn’t agree with Mira in every way, no, she just had a different way of going about things.

Because she, too, had seen the secretive glances that Thain and Kepi occasionally shared, had caught snippets of the verging on threatening way that he sometimes spoke to the queen, and it worried her.

She stayed quiet, bit her tongue more times than not, because she was afraid of Thain, of whatever his intentions were, but she was even more afraid of leaving him alone with Kepi. If she were to leave, or to be kicked out as Mira had been, he would be the only voice left whispering in the queen’s ear.

And Ameria, caring to a fault, refused to let that happen. She wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted the new queen yet, despite all of the good that she’d been doing for the kingdom, but that didn’t mean that she was going to leave her all alone with one of the most loathsome dragons that Ameria had ever met.

And so she would endure Thain’s cold glares, as though he was wishing her away, too, and she would not allow him to bait her into inane arguments, using her charm and quick wit to remain on Kepi’s good side. For the sake of the kingdom, but for the sake of the queen, as well.

-

I really liked this when I wrote it last night at 3 in the morning, but now I’m like??? It really got away from me there at the end, but oh well, it serves it’s intended purpose, which is to be a brief interlude between actual “official” parts of the main story.

There may or may not be one or two more things like this before the “actual” story keeps going (in quotation marks because, I mean, this is part of the story, it just doesn’t overly progress things along, other than giving some insight into some things, as well as getting Mira out of the throne room and Ravi away from his father), but we’ll see! I really just want to get to the rest of the story because it’s been sitting in my head for so long.

Mira is channeling all of you guys that fuckin hate Thain too lololol she’d like to hand out tridents to all of you :’D

if anybody has any questions about anybody here, I’m dying to yell about Mira and Ameria in particular, so feel free to ask! :3 fingers crossed that my next update is less than two months from now ;o;

[topimagines]

She Deserves The World- Gerard Way

Okay so I wanted to see if you guys liked Gerard Way from My Chem. I saw a few people requested for me to write something on him and I love My Chem so I got really excited. I hope you guys like it.

Gerard’s P.O.V.

There was this girl. This girl that was so beautiful and had so much talent. She loved life and she was so happy all the time.

She trapped me with those big Y/E/C eyes. Her laugh could cure the world of all sadness. Her kind heart could be enough to save the entire world. She’d always been there for me, but was I there for her when she needed me? I liked thinking I was but I wasn’t. At least not this time. She was one of those people that smiled no matter what, always looking for the good in others. She was my best friend and I loved her, but I couldn’t have her. I’ve loved her for the past 2 years, ever since she started dating Bryan.

He was no good for her. I could see she wasn’t happy. He was a total dick to her. He drank all day long while she worked hard to supply money for his addiction. She can say she’s fine, but I could see the bruises on her back. I know he beat her, but I for some reason didn’t have the balls to say anything to her.

We have been best friends for years and I could see the light starting to slowly burn out in her. She had been distancing herself from me lately and I killed me knowing he had control over her. I don’t understand what she saw in him in the first place. I know that it might seem hypocritical of me to be saying all this because I was an alcoholic, but changed when I met her. She was the reason I gave up the awful lifestyle.

“Hey Y/N, it’s been like 4 days since I’ve talked to you. I’m starting to get a little worried. Please call me.”

Of course I got her voicemail. We use to talk to each other everyday. It started off with her just ignoring my calls but she would text me saying she was okay. Now it’s been 4 days with no contact. I’ve texted her, I’ve called her, I’ve even driven past her apartment. I saw her car there each time. I looked like it hadn’t moved. It didn’t concern me too much until today when I drove passed and saw the shades to the apartment all closed. She was the type to always want light to be shining.

This wasn’t like her. Something was really wrong. My predictions were only made more sense when suddenly Bryan came out of the front door yelling something about how slutty she is. I could stand hearing him talk to her like that. I saw her standing in the doorway. She looked so different.

Bryan drove off quickly in his truck and Y/N shut the front door. I had to see her even if she didn’t want to see me.

I parked my car on the street and walked up to the door. When I knocked on the door there was no answer. I rang the doorbell, still no answer. I called for her. Still no answer. I could knew something was happening behind this door that if I didn’t get in now, something worse was about to happen.

I knew she kept a key under the mat. Once I got the door open I called out her name again.

“Y/N. Where are you?” there was no response again. Where the hell was she. As I made my way through her apartment I saw all the empty bottles of beer, some were shattered on the ground. The smell of the apartment could get you drunk. Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see.

I saw her standing at the kitchen counter staring down at a glass of water and pills.

Her entire body was covered in dark bruises. She was so out of it she didn’t even see that I was there. I didn’t want to scare her but I had to say something before she made a horrible mistake.

“Y/N?” I said softly. It still made her jump.

“Oh hey Gerard.” she said with the fakest voice and smile.

“Y/N, did he do this to you?” I asked gesturing to her bruised body.

She looked down at her arms then back to me. The light was gone. Her eyes were scared. I could see that she didn’t see the point in life any more. She just stood there staring at me.

“Y/N, we have to get you out of here. Please.”

“I can’t. You need to leave before he gets back fr-” she was cut off by the sound of a truck pulling up.

I saw fear wash over her.

“Gerard get the fuck out of here now. It’s for the best. Please.” she begged pushing me out the back door.

“Y/N, I’m not leaving you here. He can beat the living shit out of me. He’s not putting a hand on you.” I pushed my way back into the apartment.

“Y/N WHERE ARE YOU? WHO’S WITH YOU.” Bryan yelled as he came in the front door.

“In the kitchen. Gerard stopped by to ask me a question, he’s leaving now though.” she said back.

“Gerard if you care at all about me you’ll leave. I’ll text you later I promise. Please.” she begged.

“Okay fine, but Y/N please call me.” she nodded and I walked out of the kitchen and headed for the front door. I saw Bryan standing in the living room. He looked drunk and angry. It pained me leaving but I wasn’t leaving for good.

I shut the front door and walked to the back of the apartment where I could peek through a window. I could see Bryan still standing in the living room where Y/N just entered. I saw his fist clench and her tense up.

He was screaming at her and she just took it. I guess after years of it she knew how to not make it worse. When I saw his fist raise I never ran so fast. I pushed through the back door and went straight to the living room where Y/N was on the ground in a ball. Bryan was on the ground in second with me on top of him punching him in the face.

I was so fucking angry.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING EVER LAY A HAND ON Y/N AGAIN OR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU.” I screamed. I got up when I knew Bryan wouldn’t be able to.

I walked over to Y/N who was now in the corner of the room rocking back and forth.

I kneeled next to her and lifted her chin.

“Hey, hey look at me. You’re okay, this is all going to be okay. COme with me and i’ll make sure of that. Listen we have to go. I’ll bring you to my place. You’re not staying here. Ever again.” I spoke as soft as I could. She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

“Please bring me far away from here. I’m ready to leave.” I knew she wouldn’t be able to walk she was shaking so badly. I scooped her up brought her to my car.

The ride back to my place was silent. She was a totally different person from who she was years ago. She was fragile now, broken, hurt, and scared. I knew I had to be there for her and I knew this was going to take time. Time is what she needed and time was what I was going to give her.

Over the next few weeks she opened up more to me. She told me the horror stories that Bryan put her through. She told me of her sleepless nights, the beatings, the name calling, the abuse. She told me about the time when she came home 15 minutes late due to traffic and he beat her until she could barely breath. She told me how he would take her phone and look at everything she did on there and how he didn’t want her talking to me anymore.

I saw that it hurt for her to talk about it so I never asked questions. I just listened and held her when she needed to be held.

Even with her so different for those many years ago, I still loved her.

It had been 4 months since that day. She had light back in her, she was finally the Y/N I fell in love with. I couldn’t help but stare at her when she had that smile that could save the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked giggling as we sat at my kitchen table.

“Y/N can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

I took in a deep breath before talking. “Why? What did you see in him? Why did you stay?” I saw the smile fade as she looked to the floor. I felt bad and before I could apologize she looked at me.

“Have I ever told you my biggest fear?” I shook my head no.

“Ever since I was little I had this fear of being alone. A fear of not being loved. So i threw myself at the first guy. I didn’t want to stay, but I thought that was what love was. I realized that what Bryan was wasn’t love after only a few months, but my fear of being alone kept me there. I don’t want to die alone and it scares the shit out of me everyday knowing I could have lost something that is actual love. The that brings me to my next fear. Telling someone I love them.” she staring at her hands.

I sat there letting everything she just said sink in.

“So, Gerard. Can I ask you a question now?”

“In a minute, but first I want to say something.” she looked at me shocked by my response.

“Y/N, I’ve known you for over ten years now. You made me a better person and you have always been there for me. When you started dating Bryan and we stopped talking so much, you changed. I remember the first time I realized something and it was so hard realizing this thing. Y/N I love you, I love you more than just friends. You saved me and you’ve been there for me. I wanna do the same for you. I understand if you’re not ready to hear any of this. I know you just got out of a really bad relationship but  want you to know that I’ll be here waiting for when you are ready, if you feel the same way. But if not, I also understand why…” I started to ramble on but Y//N cut me off.

“Gee, shut up and get over here.” she said standing up. I stood and before I could get to her she was kissing me. I kissed her back and it was just as perfect as I imagined it.

When we pulled apart she had that light back in her eyes, the smile, the happiness,and I couldn’t help but just take in all her beauty.

“Gerard, I love you. You the one I’ve loved since the beginning. I dated Bryan as a distraction. I regret all of it, but I wouldn’t change it if that means we wouldn’t be where we are right now. Gee, I’m not ready for a big relationship right now, but I wanna be with you. I wanna take this slow.”

“I will do anything you want, because that’s what love is. I want to show you what love is Y/N. We can do whatever you want. I’ll give you the fucking world. Out of all people I know, you deserve it the most.” pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around me.

“Thank you Gee. You always know how to make me feel better. I’m sorry for changing so much.”

“Don’t apologize, I don’t want to hear you apologizing for something you couldn’t control. You’re perfect in my eyes and you always were. Nothing will ever change my love for you.”

I meant these words from the bottom of my heart. I knew this would take time for her to heal, but I was going to be there for my best friend, now girlfriend until she felt safe.