#being in pain/discomfort sucks but doubting yourself for it is worse i think

[a-star-that-fell]

having disability feelings tonight, apparently

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Setbacks are going to happen sometimes | Our wonder kid

this is raw and it comes from the heart.

Being sat on the sidelines with an injury is an ordeal in itself, but nobody ever told you the grind of rehabilitation would feel even more daunting.

You wake up every single morning with a sense of dread and getting up out of bed even feels like a constant battle sometimes, the whole idea of going into the gym is something that leaves a sour taste in your mouth knowing that you have to do something that you actively don’t want to do, but you don’t have any say in it.

There’s this constant internal tug of war between the urge to just quit and give in and the necessity to keep pushing forward to reach your end goal.

Every stretch, every set of exercise, every moment of discomfort is a battle against not just your injury but your own growing frustration.

You have to push yourself to do this to get better

You have to– You need to do this.

“You might want to slow down there, kleintje,” Viv’s voice cuts through the haze of frustration as she walks over to you in the gym, there’s beads of sweat on your forehead while you huff and puff and push yourself to continue.

There’s one thing that is bothering you though, the pain in your knee.

It’s really been bugging you today but you’re just trying to ignore it and continue with your rehabilitation.

“I’ve gotta push myself though,” You barely look up from what you are doing, the grit evident in your voice.

Viv shakes her head and steps closer towards you, “No, that’s not the right thing to do here. You push yourself too much and you’re gonna make this injury worse.”

“This sucks,” You admit, giving up on the task at hand and taking a moment to catch your breath as your breath hitches slightly, trying to not wince at the intense shooting pain in your knee you currently feel.

“I know it does kleintje,” Viv rests her hand gently on your shoulder, “But nobody said it would be easy.” She says, the tone of her voice gentle to reassure you.

“Why not? I… I’m just stuck, I feel like I’m making no fuckin’ progress,” Your voice cracks with frustration and self doubt, “Non, what so ever!” 

“Setbacks are going to happen, it’s going to be okay though,” Viv’s eyes soften with empathy, “There’s no time limit on your recovery, remember?” She adds.

Shaking your head in disagreement, you can’t help but think the older woman’s words feel hollow, “I feel like, I literally feel like.. Why do people constantly tell me that? I’m useless!”

“No you’re not,” Viv insists, her voice firm.

You can’t help but scoff slightly and shake your head, “Yes I am, “ You retort, the tears stinging your eyes, “I… One day I think that I’m doing well and then, it’s just… it’s just not, I hate this!”

“Kleintje,” Viv says gently, taking a step closer.

“No, I hate this… I hate this so much!” The words tumble out of your mouth, raw and unfiltered as you grit your teeth and try to push through the pain.

You have to ignore the pain and continue.

It’s the only way that you’re gonna get better.

“Look, I’d love to sit here and chat some more with you Vivi, but I need to get back to my rehab exercises,” Your sarcastic wit remarks as you try and go back to the task at hand.

“Hey, hey, whoa, no, that’s not a good idea to do that kleintje,” Viv states, taking a gentle hold of your wrist, “You can’t push yourself more than needed, okay? You’ll end up hurting yourself more if you’re not careful.”

“You… You don’t know how hard this is, Vivi,” You murmur, trying to pull away from her, “You don’t know what I’m going through right now!”

The dutch woman didn’t let go off your wrist as she pulled you towards her, “Kleintje, of course I know how hard it is. I do understand, you’re not alone in your thoughts there.” She tells you, “It’s going to be okay.”

“I… I hate this Vivi,” You admit, sinking into her side and trying to keep the tears at bay.

Viv takes a deep breath, her hands cup your cheek as she looks you in the eye, “It will be okay, alright? I know it feels this way, but it will be okay,” She pauses, “Come on, let’s go find Beth and head home, yeah?”

“I… Alright then,” You admit defeat and allow Viv to guide you out of the gym, walking by her side to go and find Beth somewhere around the training grounds.

You sit slumped on your bed, staring at the wall with a sense of hopelessness that seems to grow with every passing minute, you hate the toll this injury has on your life at the minute.

The weight of your frustration and isolation is almost suffocating, it feels like nothing can pull you out of this dark spiral that you feel right now.

The knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, it’s soft but it’s enough to pull you out of your spiral of self-pity.

Maybe right now you could do with another famous lecture from your england skipper, that seemed to somewhat help last time.

“You okay?” Beth peeks her head around the door, her expression a mixture of concern and determination.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You mumble, though your tone betrays the lie.

Beth raises her eyebrow before she crosses the room to sit beside you on the bed, “Y’know you’re not a very good liar. Maybe try saying it a bit more convincingly and I may just believe you kiddo.”

“I… I’m fine,” You insist, clutching your  hands together tightly as if they might hold all of your turmoil in check, “Seriously, you don’t need to check up on me, Beth. I am… I am fine.”

“Okay then,” Beth says, her tone softening, “How about we talk instead?”

You roll your eyes and shift uncomfortably, “Well, I’m not much in the mood to talk either.”

“Right,” Beth exhales a small sigh, “Then just listen instead. What’s with pushing yourself so much?”

You whip your head up in the blonde’s direction, “Vivi told you about that?” You ask, a pang of irritation inside of you.

“Of course she did,” Beth agrees as she nods, “And Leah did as well when she found you in the gym on your own. You know we’re all worried about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You snap, the frustration bubbling to the surface which makes your voice sharper than you intended.

“It helps to open up and talk about it sometimes kiddo,” Beth says, her voice steady and soothing despite the cold shoulder you were giving her.

“Does it?” You retort, the bitterness evident in your voice.

“Yes–”

“Well, I don’t wanna!” You cut her off, feeling the frustration boil over, “I told you that I didn’t want to talk, but you don’t listen!”

Beth’s face falls slightly as she still remains calm, “You… You should, kiddo. You can’t keep all this emotion bottled up, it’s not healthy.”

“You don’t know crap about what’s healthy, Beth!” You snap, the anger in your voice making your words more biting than you intended.

“Hey, kiddo. Whoa, calm down,” Beth says, holding up her hands in surrender, “I’m not trying to upset you, I just wanted to talk and find out what’s going on.”

The walls feel like they’re closing in as you try to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to break through again, “Can you… Can I please just be alone? I… I don’t want to talk, I just… I want to be alone.”

The blonde’s eyes soften with a mix of sadness and understanding, “Okay, alright… We’ll be in the other room if you need me, alright? Just shout for me if you need me.”

“Uh huh, thanks,” You mutter, feeling a twinge of guilt for yelling at Beth as she stands up and heads for the door.

As the door closes behind her, you’re left in the quiet of your room as the weight of your thoughts and feelings press down on you.

It’s all too much.

“Urgh!” You exclaim in frustration, letting your actions get the better of you and before you think about it, you slam your fist against the headboard of your bed with a hope that the physical pain might somehow offer a release for the turmoil that has been building up inside of you.

The sharp thud resonates through the room, a brief harsh distraction from the emotional weight that feels almost too heavy to bear.

You know it’s the right thing to apologise, you didn’t mean to lash out but your anger got the better of you, once again.

You just ended up lashing out at the wrong people.

“Hey, there you are,” Viv spots you lingering in the door frame as the two of them sat cosy in the living room, “We thought you fell asleep. Come sit with us?” She offers.

“Sure,” You shuffle to move and sit down on the sofa in between them, “Sorry, I snapped.” You turn to Beth to apologise.

Beth smiles at you in understanding, “Not every day is going to be easy, kiddo. You’ve just gotta take it one day at a time.” She reassures you.

You nod, though it doesn’t completely ease the ache inside, “I hate this,” You murmur, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“I know, I get it,” Beth replies, her tone encouraging but gentle, “It’s going to be hard, but you’re stronger than you realise.”

You hang your head and struggle to keep your tears at bay, “I feel like… I feel like I have no purpose in life right now,” You admit quietly, “I’m just… I’m stuck. I’m useless, everything in life right now is so hard.”

Beth gently wraps her arm around your shoulder, “Listen to me, alright, kiddo? Setbacks happen sometimes even when they’re not expected,” She pauses, “One minute you think you're fine and then the next, you’re not. It comes out of nowhere and your emotions hit you like a full blown tidal wave, it’s understandable.”

You know the blonde’s right about that.

You guess your bruised knuckles are enough proof to admit how you really feel, a stupid dumb split decision that you really regret now at least.

“It will take time,” Viv chimes in, smiling at you sympathetically.

You feel a pang of frustration, “I… Why am I not further along, why am I… I hate this!”

“It’s like we said,” Beth gaze remains steady and supportive, “Setbacks are bound to happen, it’s not always smooth sailing but it’s going to be okay, alright?”

“I hate this,” You admit as your voice cracks, “I hate this stupid injury. It’s a complete burden on my life!” You exclaim, the burst of anger being realised.

“It will get better with time kiddo,” Beth still tries to reassure you, “Now, how about we order a pizza for dinner? You haven’t eaten much today.”

Shaking your head, there’s a familiar sense of resistance rising up, “I’m not that hungry. I just… I don’t want to eat anything right now.”

Beth and Viv share a worried glance between the two of them, “You’re sure? You should try and eat, even if it’s something small,” The Dutch woman states, worriedly.

“I’ll eat something later, I promise,” You agree begrudgingly, “The rehab kinda wore me out today, I think I’m just gonna and get some sleep if that’s okay?” You ask them both.

“Of course,” Beth replies to your question, “Get some sleep kiddo. Tomorrow will be a better day.” With these words in your mind, you exchange hugs with them both and make the walk back to your bedroom to collapse into bed with hope in your thoughts.

Tomorrow will be a better day, setbacks will happen and it’s okay to admit that.

You just have to take it one day at a time.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[bajisbabe]

# IT’S JUST A CIGARETTE

you need a cigarette but he won’t let you have one | Aki x Reader

warnings: smoking, kissing, Aki and the reader enemies if you squint, but the reader is eager to gain his recognition too, the reader is a lil’ naive, lil’ bit of a brat, lil’ bit of a crybaby, and sucks at smoking.

synopsis: Takes place during the mission in Chapter 15. Aki is your partner on said mission. While the others are away, patrolling the halls, you find that you need something to ease the stress, so you take one of his cigarettes. And he doesn’t like that.

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 1 2 3

You and Aki have been paired up on a mission. Forced to chase down a devil that won’t stop running. And now, it has led you to a floor in which you’re trapped in some kind of labyrinth. And try as you might, you can’t seem to find an exit.

To make matters worse, you and Aki decided to stay behind while the rest of your unit patrolled the halls. Gradually, it began to feel like hours had passed and none of them had returned. Had you known it would take this long, you would’ve gone with them.

Of course, this situation is weighing heavy on your shoulders. It has been hours—or at least that’s what you think. You can’t be sure now that the clock has stopped. Aki has left the room momentarily to check the hallway, and you notice that he’s left his pack of cigarettes on the table.

So you casually stroll up to the pack and decide to take one, feeling no guilt as you doubt he’ll miss a single cigarette. You bring the cigarette to your lips, peering around to see if you can find what you need to light it. Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t left his lighter behind. And before you can find a lighter, Aki comes rushing in through the door.

And he is quick to ruin your attempt at finding some kind of relief.

“No.” He says, snatching the stick from your fingers and tossing it to the ground. He stomps on the tobacco with his foot, grinding it into pieces and staining the carpet below. “M’not letting you smoke that. It’ll rot your bones—”

“But you smoke it!” You whine, throwing your arms out in exasperation. You were stressed and needed something to take the edge off. Surely, a smoke wouldn’t hurt; even if it was your first. “You smoke all the time, and I—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off coldly, glaring at you from out of the corner of his eye. “If I say you’re not smoking, then you’re not smoking.”

You sit in silence for a moment, pouting some as you glance up at him from under your lashes. He has his back turned, looking out int the hallway to see if he can find your co-workers. You decide to take your chance then, reaching out for the pack of cigarettes and taking another.

Just as you’re about to put it between your lips, he grabs you by the wrist. His grip unyielding as he yanks you closer, “I said, you’re not smoking.” He grits out through bared teeth. “Why won’t you listen to me—?”

“You’re not my dad,” you say childishly. And before you can pull away, his grasp on you tightens to an extent that has your knees buckling. You crumple, hissing in pain as he works the stick from your fingers yet again.

“Don’t argue with me, stupid.” He spat, eyes blank as he took the cigarette from you. He pulls it to his lips, tugging a lighter out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette. He shows no remorse or guilt as you sit there, on the floor, rubbing your wrist as though the pain will go away.

He catches your eye for a brief second, causing you to look away. You despise him. You don’t want anything to do with him. He’s selfish, he’s crude, he’s mean, and he just overall doesn’t treat you very well.

You hate him.

But you have no other option as all the devil hunters have been paired up or assigned to someone else. You and him are a team now, you just wish you weren’t.

“M’supposed to be your partner,” you grumble under your breath. You don’t intend to cry, but you feel a lump forming in your throat and the backs of your eyes are burning. “Yet, you don’t even treat me like an equal.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, parting his lips to let the smoke swirl and curl in the air before his eyes. And you’re envious. Tobacco must serve him well if he has a habit of smoking. It must make him feel good or something. You want to feel good too.

“I’ll treat you like an equal when you start acting like one,” he says, quietly and calmly. He always seems so nonchalant about things, never feeling strongly about anything unless it concerns his past or the Gun Devil specifically.

Your nose burns as the room begins to fill with lingering smoke and the scent of tobacco. You try not to make a disgusted expression; trying not to prove his point that you don’t need a cigarette. But you can’t help it as a frown appears on your lips.

He notices immediately, an eyebrow raising and a subtle tug of his lips. But it disappears before you can see it. He approaches you, steady and fast. His waist bent as he sank to your level, “Wanna smoke that bad, huh?”

The smell is enough to make you seriously regret your decision. You try to shake your head, or voice that you’ve changed your mind. But he is already grabbing you by the arm and tugging you to your feet.

“Don’t act shy now,” he says, the cigarette wiggling between his lips. One hand clutches your shoulder, the other working the lit cigarette out of his mouth. You pull back but he doesn’t let go, his fingers holding the cigarette and pressing it to your lips.

You jolt, attempting to push him away. He doesn’t budge, pressing harder until you relent. And you have a split second to note that the tip is damp with what you suspect is his saliva.

“Breathe in,” he says.

You turn away, trying to escape the sudden burning of your lungs. He shows no mercy, clutching your shoulder harder and practically shoving the cigarette into your mouth.

“Breathe in,” he repeats. “Do it now. Show me that you’re my equal.”

His equal. So, that’s what this is about. Your lungs burn as you inhale, taking too quick of a breath and doubling over as he removes the cigarette from your mouth. You cough and gag, spitting up as you try to rid of the taste it left behind.

He again shows no remorse or guilt. He simply takes another drag from the cigarette, seemingly uncaring that the same cigarette was just in your mouth. He taps the end of it against the table, letting the ash fall as he watches you cough and sputter.

“You wanna be treated like my equal, right?” He said, eyeing you from the side. He watches your eyes become glossy and wide as you finally catch your breath. Cruel and inconsiderate and he pushes on with the one-sided conversation. “Then take another drag, and don’t cough it all out this time.”

He holds his hand out, the cigarette balanced between his long fingers. His expression is blank as he waits patiently for you to make a move. You can feel your eyes burning just at the thought of having to take another drag. You don’t even want to entertain his cruelty, but you desperately want him to treat you fairly.

… should you…?

You gulp thickly, throat itchy as you slowly reach out. But before you can touch it, he pulls the cigarette away.

“Uh uh,” he says quietly, no emotion present in his voice. “...C’mere.”

You blink back tears of discomfort, still trying your damnedest not to choke over the remnants of smoke left behind from the first drag. You bite your lip, hesitating. But eventually you come to him. And he beckons you closer and closer until you two are only a breath away.

“Here,” he mumbles. “Do as I say, okay?”

You nod, your eyes on him the whole time. And he feels a strange shudder run down his spine. Something about the way you’re looking at him and how obedient you’re being. He likes it.

“Open your mouth”—you part your lips for him, and he gently places the cigarette on the curve of your lower lip—“Now breathe in. Slowly.”

He watches you take another drag, your chest trembling as you fight back the urge to cough. And you succeed in taking in the smoke. A small smile tugs at his lips as he instructs you again. “Hold it…” his eyes rack over your face, focused intently at every little twitch and jerk. “Now let it all out.”

You rush the exhale, coughing and sputtering again but not as much as before. You don’t notice the hint of admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. There’s something he likes about you—something he never noticed before.

He could’ve sworn he disliked you before. He always thought of you as lazy, ignorant, and overly passive. But something had changed in the last couple of seconds. He liked you.

“Have I”—the rasp of your voice draws his attention—“Have I proved myself yet?” Your eyes are watering, one squeezed shut as you gasp and swallow. Smoking clearly wasn’t for you. But you were desperate to please.

Maybe that’s what he liked. How you seeked recognition. Or maybe, how you fought so hard to prove yourself to him when he was no one special. You must respect him then, if you serve to please.

The corner of his lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with you looking at him. So close, mere inches away from your lips brushing his. And you seemed unbothered by the lack of space between you two. He would take advantage of your naviety to social cues later, but now he had something else in mind.

“No,” he said.

“No?” You repeated, having to clear your throat after hearing how ghastly you sounded. “Whaddya mean ‘no?’”

“I mean, no.” He said, shrugging as he walked past you. Only one or two steps away before he turned to you, having to bite back a cruel grin. He liked toying with you like this. It was nice, and it took the stress of the situation away.

Maybe, he would do this more often. You could have his cigarettes in turn, and he could play with you instead. He wouldn’t need the sticks if he had you.

“One more.” He said quietly. “One more drag and I’ll consider you my equal.”

You stood in silence for a moment, unsure of whether or not to believe him. What little you knew of Aki hadn’t brought you to believe that he was a bad guy. He didn’t seem like the type to toy with others, not that you knew of. But you didn’t know much it seems. Foolishly agreeing with a curt nod of the head, “Okay.”

You tried to snatch the cigarette from his hand, far too confident in your ability to do as he asked. But like before, he dodged you. Eyes narrowing as he gestured you to come closer. His fingers curl as you follow his lead.

“This one’ll be different.” He said.

“What?” You muttered. “Well, that’s not fair. Why should this one be different if the other two were—”

“You wanna be my equal or not?”

That shut you up. With a huff, you glanced over at him, waiting for further instruction. His heart stuttered at the sight of your obedience. You were listening to him and without fuss. He found it intriguing.

“C’mere.” He said.

You wanted to argue, to say that you couldn’t get any closer considering you were already as close as could be. But you didn’t bother, knowing he would likely just shut you down and cut you off again.

You pressed closer, your bodies brushing against each other. And for a split second, you thought about how bad of an idea this was. The devil could show up at any moment and you would be unprepared if you kept messing around with Aki. Or even worse, Denji and the others could walk in and you’d never hear the end of it. But you found yourself justifying the action with the simple thought that you could win Aki over like this.

You and him would be a team for real this time. And he would treat you as an equal and you could work so well together. Wouldn’t that make all this worth it?

You decided that you were going to go through with it, no matter what he asked of you. But you hadn’t been expecting it honestly—what he said next.

“I’m gonna take a drag, and then feed it to you, okay?”

You froze, eyes blown wide and brows furrowing. What was this, some kind of joke? You choked, and not on the smoke this time. “Very funny,” you spat. Your defenses coming up quick, you didn’t even think twice before saying it. “I’m not doing that—”

“Don’t you wanna be my equal?”

You stammer and stutter, unsure of what to say as he takes a drag from the cigarette, closing the space between you both quickly. You put your hands up as though to push him away. But you freeze again, body stiff as he grabs you by the jaw. He tilts your chin, working his tongue into your mouth with ease.

And you find yourself clutching onto his arms, as he tugs you closer. The smoke swirling out of the spaces where your lips don’t quite meet. Your lungs burn and your eyes itch, but you don’t pull away. Whether because of your eagerness to please or because of how good his tongue feels against your own, you don’t know.

But when he pulls away, your head is hazy and it’s hard to breathe.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, his large hand placed on the space just below the base of your neck. “Come on. Breathe.”

And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You can feel the blood rush to your head, your face heating up. Why had you done that, why had you followed him so mindlessly?

What were you thinking? What if he told someone, or if someone found out? Would you be fired? He’s your mission partner, you can’t just—

“So? Now that you’re my equal,” He says suddenly, causing you to flinch. He raises a brow before continuing without much care. “Did that ease your stress or do you need another smoke?”

[midnghtcities]

better with you

you’re not well. harry wants to make you feel better. word count: 2.3k

(A/N: i’ll admit, this one is pretty self-indulgent. endometriosis affects an estimated 1 in 10 women during their reproductive years, which is approximately 176 million women in the world (source) and i personally know of many women who struggle to have their pain heard. i hate having to put on a brave face when it feels like the inside of my uterus is on fire. so this one is for the people who have to push through the pain especially when no one is there to take care of you!!!)

/ read on wattpad /

It always started low in your belly. Sometimes a flutter or an uncomfortable prickle, other times more sharp, like someone was sweeping the tip of a knife across your abdomen. But you knew what it meant, things weren’t going to be looking so good in the coming hours.

You were always a meticulous planner, you had to be. You always knew roughly when you would be alright to make plans, or when you would be better off staying at home. But when Harry waltzed into your life a few weeks ago, that ideal went out the window. From that first initial coffee and walk around Hyde Park, you craved more and more time with Harry. He was enigmatic, so bright and warm that you worried saying no to hanging out with him would mean he would disappear and take with him that new-found sunshine you had just gotten used to basking in. 

So you knew you could be playing a risky game when Harry texted you, requesting your company for dinner. It had been a busy week for you at work meaning you both hadn’t had much time for each other so you said yes without even thinking. It wasn’t until you looked at your calendar that you realised you probably should have come up with some excuse to say no. But the thought of being with Harry, hearing his honey-like drawl and feeling the warmth of his hand on your waist or back - or potentially somewhere lower - was too hard to resist. Surely it would be fine.

You carefully laid your cutlery down next to the plate of ravioli you were half-way through eating, trying to discern whether this was just a fleeting moment of pain or something more sinister. It was always hard to tell at first and the immediate feeling of panic that accompanied never helped with this determination.

“You okay?” a somewhat concerned voice broke your focus.

You looked up, realising that you had been staring quite fixedly at your plate of food. Harry was sitting across from you, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In any other moment, you would feel that bubbly thrill rush over knowing that Harry was staring so intently. You still found yourself wondering at times why he was interested in you, but after your fifth date you were starting to believe that maybe it was possible for someone like Harry to be interested in a girl like you. But now, as you sat with a lump in your throat and a cold sheen forming over your body, you wished you were anywhere but here.

You cleared your throat, “Uh, yeah, all good. I just have to go to the bathroom.” You stood up carefully, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Harry sounded very worried now.

“Yeah, yeah,” you tried to morph your face into what felt like a carefree expression, but you knew Harry could see right through you. You quickly turned away and made your way to the restroom before he could question further.

With the bathroom door safely locked, you faced yourself in the mirror’s reflection. Your face had taken on an almost unsightly pallor and there was a beginning layer of perspiration across your brow. You grabbed a hand towel to dab your face dry when a flash of pain ripped across your abdomen. You doubled over, biting hard on your lip to keep any groans of discomfort inside. It was clear that your monthly pain had decided to make an early appearance.

Painful periods were something you always had to deal with. The past year though, each one seemed to be worse than the last. Days had been taken off of work, plans had been cancelled, and you had begun to find yourself becoming a ball of nerves whenever that time of month rolled around. Maybe this period you would be huddled around the toilet bowl for hours on end. Or unable to even get out of bed. What if you were out somewhere alone and suddenly couldn’t walk anymore because being upright hurt too much? You didn’t want to take your chances, so more often than not you would ensure you were at home when you knew you needed to be. This was all before Harry though.

The thought of Harry caused you to perk up a little. The pain had subsided slightly, to more of a dull ache. You took the opportunity to quickly rummage in your bag and down two ibuprofen, something you had begun to always carry. You knew it would be a futile attempt at combating the pain, but you figured it was better than nothing. Three deep breaths later, you carefully walked back out to Harry.

His gaze was fixed on his phone, his left thumb and index finger gripping his bottom lip in what you could only take as an action of restlessness. It looked as though he hadn’t touched his risotto since you had left. As you approached, he looked up. “Are you alright?”

“I’m really sorry,” your voice was shaky. You gripped the back of the chair you had previously occupied, willing yourself to get it together. “I think I need to go home, I’m starting to feel like rubbish.”

Concern flooded Harry’s face, his eyes darting up and down to further assess your appearance. You forced yourself to stand up straighter as though this would portray that you are fine. “Is it the food?” he questioned, looking at his own plate apprehensively.

“No, no. It’s just… I get pain sometimes.”

He looked confused. You weren’t one to broadcast your misgivings, so you knew Harry would be slightly shocked to hear of your chronic condition. “Let me get the bill then,” he stood up whilst motioning for a waiter’s attention. 

“No, please finish your dinner!”

“What?” he looked at you incredulously, “I’m not going to just let you leave alone when you’re clearly not feeling well.”

As you were about to retort, a spasm of hurt ricocheted across your belly leaving you only able to suck in a sharp breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your fingers tighten against the back of the chair. Mere seconds later you felt a comforting warmth envelop you along with the barely-there scent of spice and vanilla -- it was Harry. He had wrapped his arms around you carefully, his right hand pulling your face into his chest.

“What’s going on?” Harry said quietly, trying his best to hide how frantic he was really feeling.

You let go of the chair and gripped onto Harry’s arm, gladly accepting the comforting gesture. It was almost uncanny how the pain seemed to dissipate quickly as you stood there enfolded in Harry.

“Excuse me sir,” you felt Harry’s head turn as a voice intruded upon them, “is everything alright?” It was the waiter that Harry had flagged down.

“I’m sorry, could we just grab the bill please? My partner isn’t feeling too well all of the sudden.”

You blinked your eyes open and carefully pulled out of Harry’s embrace. You had almost forgotten you both were standing in the middle of a restaurant. The waiter had already bustled off to get the bill.

“Hey,” Harry grabbed your hand, giving a gentle squeeze, “are you okay?”

You did your best to plaster on a smile and feign indifference but judging from Harry’s stony gaze there was no point in even pretending that you were alright. “Right now it’s slightly better, but the pain will be back no doubt.”

He nodded once and quickly collected his coat from his chair and phone off of the table. The waiter had returned and before you could even reach for your wallet, Harry had already tapped his card and began leading you out of the restaurant, his arm wrapping around your waist once more. “The Uber should be here in five minutes.”

You could barely voice your thanks when another wave of pain rolled on through, leaving nothing but shaky breaths and clenched fists in its wake. Harry’s arm tightened around you, and you gladly leaned into him as you focused on willing the pain away.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry spoke up a few beats later.

You pulled your head away from his chest, meeting his concerned gaze. “Why are you apologising?”

“I shouldn’t have made dinner tonight seem like such a big deal. I know we haven’t seen each other this week but I didn’t want you to feel pressure to come out even if you’re unwell.”

“I promise I felt fine when I said yes. In fact, I felt completely fine up until 20 minutes ago. It’s just how this thing goes sometimes.”

He looked a little confused.

“It’s… It’s my period,” you continued on hoping to answer the questions that were probably already forming in his mind, “I always get pain around the time of my period. And during as well. It is a little earlier this time though.”

“I have a sister, I’ve never seen her in pain like this though,” he said, eyebrows furrowed.

You just shrugged, wincing slightly as another jab of pain pierced your abdomen.

Harry didn’t question the issue further, instead he turned to rubbing circles against your lower back. But you could tell he was thinking intently. A few minutes later, he spotted the Uber and you both got in. Harry insisted on you scooting over to the middle of the backseat so that he could keep his arm secured around you. It was almost like he was never going to let you go now, and you don’t think you had any issue with that.

You kept your eyes closed the whole car ride, letting the sway of the car lull you into a stupor. A low thrum of pain was present the whole time but at least it didn’t flare up. You knew the less you moved, the better it felt.

“We’re here,” Harry said quietly after some time.

Eyes blinking open, you realised he was right. Harry guided you out of the car and up the steps to your flat. His eyes stayed intensely locked on you as you fished the keys out of your bag. It was hard to mask the intense ache the movements caused but you didn’t want Harry to worry more than he already was.

“Thank you so much for helping me,” you said once inside.

“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s get you into bed. Do you have a hot water bottle? Ibuprofen in the kitchen?”

Your mouth gaped slightly. “Harry, it’s fine. I’ll be alright now.”

He stared back at you slightly incredulously. “Have you seen yourself right now? You can barely stand upright. Just getting your key in the door was an effort and a half. Let me take care of you.”

You felt your eyes prickle with tears, you had forgotten what it was like to have someone want to take care of you. The past year you had battled through the pain alone, you hadn’t realised the simple act of someone offering to make you a hot water bottle would feel so good. 

After telling Harry where to find everything, you gingerly walked down the hall to your room. You changed into your comfiest pair of sweats and eased yourself onto your bed. This definitely wasn’t the worst pain you had been in - no throwing up or collapsing to be seen thank god - but it was enough to make doing the simplest tasks a chore. 

Harry crept in a few minutes later, a mug of steaming tea in one hand and the hot water bottle tucked under his other arm. You graciously accepted the bottle, pressing it against your stomach. A sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“Do you mind?” Harry asked, motioning to the space available next to you.

“Please.”

He stripped off his coat and slipped out of his boots before climbing in carefully beside you. You adjusted your position so that your head lay comfortably against his chest and he could easily cradle your side. The contact seemed to melt the pain away instantly.

“Do you think you have endometriosis?” Harry spoke up a few minutes later.

You hummed in confusion, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I did some quick research in the car. Your symptoms sound like it could be that. Have you ever gone to a doctor to check it out?”

“They just told me to take pain relief. It’s really hard to diagnose, like, you need surgery. I think if it’s not heavily impacting your life then you just have to deal with it.”

“What?” Harry said in a shocked tone. “It’s clearly impacting! You looked like you were going to pass out in that restaurant. Let’s make an appointment in the morning, I’m going with you… If that’s okay with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. How many people had brushed off your pain like you were crazy and here was Harry, researching and wanting to book doctors appointments after an hour. “Come here,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you, you idiot. You have to lean down though, I don’t want to move too much.”

His previously concerned face gave way to a dimple-filled grin as he gladly followed your request. Your lips met, moving in sync immediately. You could tell Harry was being conservative, obviously worried to push things too far, but you were just happy to have him.

“You know,” he said once you both broke apart, “you can buy this little machine that uses electric currents to your nerves and it’s meant to help with the pain.”

“How much research did you do in that car ride?” you said whilst chuckling.

“I was worried!”

You gave him a soft smile, “Thank you. But I think for now I’ll stick with the water bottle. And your cuddles.”

“Are they helping?” Harry said, giving you a squeeze.

“They are. I feel much better with you.” 

The pain did seem to be at bay and for once that accompanying feeling of dread didn’t seem to be eating you up from inside out. For once it felt like you were going to get through this and you would be okay.

[whitewolfmoving]

Boston Burning Part One

Pressure

Summary: After the ceiling caves in leaving Nika Stan trapped and injured on an emergency call, she's ordered to take mandatory sick leave until her injuries heal. She can think of no better place to rest and recuperate than in Boston with her (and her brother's) best friend.

Warnings: very minor description of injuries

Word Count: 1459

A/N: Here's chapter one of part one of my two-part crossover series! For a setup chapter, I personally think it sucks a bit. But I hope you like it. This story was born of my love for firefighters, my need for d/Deaf representation, and dreams no one needs to know about but that I told one of my best friends of anyway (hehe). Happy reading!

New York born and raised, Nika Stan had always been her big brother's little shadow.

When 13-year-old Sebastian loudly declared one warm evening at the dinner table that he was going to grow up and be a firefighter like the one he'd seen on the way to school, a chubby-cheeked 4-year-old Nika proudly echoed, "Me, too!" And when her big brother leaned over with his dark ocean blue eyes to kiss her forehead and whispered gently in her ear, "Of course, you will, my little Sunspot!" Nika knew then that she was born for greatness.

For Nika, that greatness took the form of many things throughout her life; from saving kittens stuck in trees and helping her neighbor Mrs. Jenkins across the street after school, to following in her brother's footsteps all the way to the National Fire Academy. Sebastian always taught Nika that she could do and be anything she put her mind to, he was her number one fan and biggest supporter. Whenever she needed a little extra encouragement, he was right there to give it to her. Likewise, Nika did the same for him.

The call that changed their lives came just after 2 AM.

Sebastian was out of bed, dressed, in the car, and walking through the doors of Brooklyn General within the hour. It was late, the emergency room was empty save for the Squad, Engine, and Truck members huddled in the far corner of the waiting area. Before he could make his way to the reception desk to inquire about his sister's whereabouts, the Squad Lieutenant intercepted him.

"Hey, man. They're treating her now and Brooklyn PD is taking her statement. Chief's with her, but she's been asking for you. Straight back, first room on the left."

"Thanks. All of you, for being here. I'll update you when I know more."

The whitewashed walls of Brooklyn General were never Sebastian's thing; he belonged on the outside, keeping people from having to enter its doors. Now, though, he carefully wandered its hallways looking and listening for the one person he never wanted to see taking up residence in the massive building — Nika. The Chief had assured him that her injuries were minor but he wouldn't believe it until he could see her with his own eyes. He continued down the hall to the first door on his left, and knocked before heading in.

To Sebastian's surprise — and the credit of the doctors on call late that night — Nika didn't look too worse for wear. He breathed a sigh of relief and acknowledged Chief Jackson briefly, before he settled in the chair at Nika's bedside.

"Frate mai mare," she greeted softly. She looked up at him with glazed honey-colored eyes, no doubt a result of the mild sedative they'd given her to help with the pain. White gauze poked out from under the right shoulder of the clean hospital gown she wore, her wrist had been placed in a hard cast and propped up on a pillow in her lap. She looked so tiny beneath the blankets.

"Sora mai mică," Sebastian answered in kind. He gently pushed a hand through Nika's hair. watching closely as her eyes fluttered shut at the comforting contact. Once he was certain she'd fallen asleep, he turned to address the other men in the room. "Did she say what happened?"

"She was clearing the top floor, called out and received no response. When she turned to leave, the owner ambushed her from the next room. The ceiling came down on top of them," Chief Jackson told Sebastian calmly. "The only thing she remembers after that is waking up here."

Dr. Fuller handed Sebastian a copy of Nika's x-ray. He hated this part, they all did. Everyone loved the younger Stan sibling as much as Sebastian did, seeing her in any sort of discomfort put them all on edge. "She's got a broken radius and second degree burns on her shoulder and across part of her chest. We'll keep her overnight for observation, just as a precaution. She can go home tomorrow afternoon but it's in her best interest to keep her off duty until her wounds heal."

Sebastian chuckled. "She's not going to like that. Thanks, Doc, I appreciate it."

"Unfortunately, the owner of the house fled the scene before we got there. But from what Nika and a few of the guys were able to give us, we have enough for a rough sketch. I'll keep you updated when we have more information, Seb. We'll find out who did this." Detective Brighton firmly clapped Sebastian on the shoulder before following the doctor and chief from the room, leaving the siblings alone.

Nika slept soundly for three days which the doctors assured Sebastian was normal for the small amount of trauma her body had endured. On the fourth day, he was growing increasingly concerned for his sister's well-being. As he weighed the pros and cons of waiting it out against going to ask Dr. Fuller to recheck Nika's vitals, Sebastian paced back and forth at the foot of her bed.

"Bas, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Nika said. Her voice sounded rough and scratchy from sleep, but at least she was talking.

Sebastian sighed, relieved. His fingers curled around the two small devices in his right jacket pocket, she wouldn't be able to hear him without them but maybe that was for the best right now. He withdrew his hands from the comfort of his jacket pockets, stood at the foot of Nika's hospital bed and braced himself for the flood of emotion and attitude that would soon pour from his sister like rolling thunder.

"Hey, Sunspot. Glad to see you're awake," Sebastian moved his hands with such a calm fluidity when he signed. He'd learned for Nika when no one else would, it often made moments like this a lot easier for them. "How do you feel?"

"My chest is sore, but it's not too bad. Ready to get the hell out of here, honestly. Hospitals wig me out."

"You're good to go today, but you're out of work until your wrist and burns heal."

Nika rolled her eyes and scoffed indignantly at her brother's instruction. Not working wasn't something she knew how to do, firefighting was in her veins. She sighed.

Sebastian chuckled. "Look, Nik, I know you don't want to hear this. But you need to take some time off, to rest, to heal. Do it for me. Please?" He knew he had her with those last five words; Nika would do anything for her brother.

Two days later, Nika stepped off the plane at Boston Logan International Airport.

She walked through the gate with the crowd, happy to be in a place where her brother wasn't for the time being. She loved Sebastian, loved that he wanted to protect her, but his concern lately had been stifling. Nika needed a break, needed a change of scene. As soon as they'd left the hospital, she called Chris and told him what happened. Without a second thought, he told her to come to Boston, said he'd be there when she landed.

She waded through the sea of people heading for baggage claim, keeping an eye out for Chris's tall frame. She was tired, sore, and just wanted to be somewhere she could relax without thinking of the accident for a while. She needed to take her medication, the dressing on her shoulder and chest needed to be changed, and she desperately needed a drink.

"C'mon, Evans. Where the hell are you?" Nika was just about to break down and call him, when she felt a strong hand wrap around her waist from behind.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to stand around by yourself in an airport?" Chris's smooth Boston accent said in her left ear. He had her backpack slung over his shoulder and her rolling suitcase in his hand. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he smiled down at her. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, signed back, "Ready for the pressure to stop. Thanks for letting me stay with you for a few weeks."

Chris grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then kissed the top of her head. His voice met her ear once again. "Ah, Nik. What are best friends for, huh?"

Nika hummed. She missed her brother, but she knew she'd be safe with Chris, too. Being out of the game wasn't going to be easy for the youngest Stan sibling, she was used to the fast pace of firefighting; she counted on it as much as she counted on her brother to have her back. Without it, Nika wasn't sure who she was or who she could be.

Till The End of All Things Taglist: @arrowsandmixtapes @pinknerdpanda

[blue-bird-kny]

hello!! can i request a giyuu x reader soulmate au with the red string? maybe after they find each other giyuu avoids the reader and then the reader confronts him about it and turns out he’s afraid to get attached and lose them (like with his sister and sabito)

I did change the request a bit to pack in that extra angst but I must say (Ik I say this a lot but I mean it), this has been my favorite request/piece thus far. There is more I’d like to add but I’ll save it for the end, so please enjoy ~Amanda

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Swearing

“Promise”

(Longest one yet with 2k+ words) 

The little red string that connected you to your soulmate has always laid limp, even when you were a little kid and had first noticed it. They said this happened when your soulmate was far from you and the closer you two got, the tighter it pulled until disappearing the first time you and your soulmate touched. 

You found the idea of soulmates fascinating, it was amazing that something only you could see fated you to another. As you grew older and entered the corps, you never felt any pull from your string. Once while at the demon slayer HQ, you’d felt the faintest tug on your pinky where the string was wrapped. You’d been so happy to finally feel anything from them, but almost as quickly as you felt it, it was gone.

After that day, you were determined to find your soulmate because, finally, they weren’t so out of reach. You constantly joined group missions in an attempt to find them and when you weren’t on a mission, you lurked around headquarters hoping to feel anything.

You tried for a year straight and nothing happened. Any time you felt a tug on your finger, you quickly followed in that direction, only to have the feeling disappear. You were so close to giving up because it was beginning to feel pointless, really there are thousands of slayers, how could you find just one? That was, of course, until you met him when you were least expecting it.

Your years of service had allowed you to climb the ranks fairly quickly, so as a Tsuchinoto, you’d been assigned to captain a team of slayers on a mission. The mission had been brutal; you’d lost several members of your team in the fight against a high level demon, almost losing your life in the process. You’d managed to kill the demon of course, but the casualties were too high for you to feel like it had been a successful mission.

Despite having only been in recovery for two days, you insisted you attended the Hashira meeting you’d been invited too. Oyakata-sama had asked that you relay the details of your mission to the other hashiras because he believed there was some connection to finding kibutsuji. As you left, you ignored the protest of those taking care of you because if this was important enough to have all the Hashira’s present, there was not way you were letting some stupid injuries stop you from going.

It was exhausting to move but you still held your head up high. The closer you grew to where the meeting was being held, the more butterflies erupted in your stomach. It wasn't because you were about to be in the presence of the most powerful demon slayers (although that was nerve racking), but because with every step you took the string on your pinky grew tighter and tighter.

Upon arrival, you tried to unsteadily bow to your superiors but Shinobu quickly forbade it along with any other unnecessary movement, insisting you sit. “Thank you for your concern Shinobu-san, but I must refuse. It would be disrespectful to sit, beside these wounds don’t bother me” your explanation impressed the Hashira’s, even though it was easy to see that your injured leg and bandaged body were causing you pain and discomfort.

Your eyes followed the string that was pulling so tightly at your hand that you needed to force it to stay by your side, landing on the figure kneeling furthest from you. Giyuu, the water Hashira, sat facing away from you, staring at the floor. “That's strange, doesn’t he feel his pinky being pulled? Can’t he see how our strings are connected” you didn’t allow your thoughts to distract you though, you were here for a reason.

You carefully explained every detail from the mission, answering every question that was thrown your way; you were honestly impressed with how calm you were despite your situation. After the meeting finished, Shinobu requested (demanded really since she wouldn’t accept no as an answer) to walk you back to the estate. “Please give me a moment, I need to speak with Giyuu-san” you told Shinobu, who reluctantly allowed you to walk to him.

You reached him just as he was turning to leave, your string pulling so hard it was getting harder to keep your hand in place. You smiled, “excuse me” you called sweetly, eager to talk to him. Your enthusiasm faded though, as his cold eyes turned to meet yours. He looked almost upset to be talking to you, you gulped before continuing “I think we’re soulmates” your voice sounded so small under his intense gaze.

The remaining Hashira’s watched as the tension surrounding you two began to thicken. “I know” his words were so simple, yet so empty. You didn’t get the chance to respond to him before he continued, “Are we done here? I have no intention of getting to know you, you’d only get in my way”. Every word that slipped past his lips buried themselves deep into your heart, chipping away until it cracked in half.

He turned away without another word from either of you, you watched as his form grew smaller in the distance till it was gone. With each step he took, the string that was once pulled so tauntly, loosened little by little, till it sadly hung on the floor. The room was cold and quiet, no one really knowing what to do as they stared at your slouched body.

“I can’t let them see me like this, I’ll just have to wait till I’m alone”

You turned to face those behind you, feeling embarrassed as they watched with sorry eyes. You cleared your throat trying desperately to erase any sadness from your voice as you spoke “Shinobu-san, I’m ready to go now”, you bore a sad smile and lifeless eyes as you two walked away.

“Well that was a fucking wreck” Sanemi commented making the others hum in agreement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks passed while you were still recovering at the Butterfly Estate. You’d been completely drained of life since Giyuu bluntly rejected you as his soulmate, feeling completely numb from any of the pain your treatment may have caused. You were miserable and anyone who saw you knew it; you never smiled, you barely spoke or ate, and your eyes were void of any life. Everyone tried to make you feel better, but nothing worked.

Shinobu (who had taken a liking to you) was desperate almost to make you feel better, she feared that if you didn’t cheer up soon, there’d be no bringing you back from the darkness that was drowning you. She’d seen something in you, an incredible potential that was too good to be wasted because of Giyuu’s insensitivity. She left to give him a piece of her mind, you at least deserved an explanation.

She found him training, swinging his sword in various directions. “Giyuu-san you’ve really outdone yourself this time, haven’t you. This is why you have no friends you know.” Shinobu’s tone was friendly, but her words were bitter. Normally, her words would have made Giyuu feel bad, but right now, he couldn’t feel any worse than he already did.

Giyuu actually wanted to be with you, you were soulmates afterall, but he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk losing someone else he loved, his heart couldn’t take it. Truth be told, he didn’t think his plan through, he didn’t take into account how it could affect you.”Shinobu-san please, not now” his response was so out of character that Shinobu was thrown off, she’d come to reprimand him but there was no need apparently. She sighed, “I don't know what you’re doing, but she’s heartbroken and barely eating. She could die if this continues” she walked away after that, she didn’t need a response because she knew what she’d done.

Shinobu had sort of stretched the truth, but for a good reason. She’d never admit it, but she knew Giyuu was a good guy, so the prospect of his destined love dying because of something he’d done would drive him mad. She was right of course; after a night of restless sleep, Giyuu set off to find you at the Butterfly Estate hoping you’d accept his apology.

“(Y/n)-san congratulations! You’ve completely recovered and are ready to head on your next mission, something simple to start no doubt.” Aoi cheered you on. You simply hummed with empty eyes as you finished getting dressed. “Thank you” you muttered, bowing your head as a sign of gratitude. You moved towards the door, failing to notice the strong pull of the string wrapped around you pinky until it was too late. The door pulled open just to find Giyuu standing there staring at you regrettably.

“Excuse me” your voice sounded foreign to his ears; those had been the exact words you said to him when you two met, yet the life and enthusiasm had been sucked away. He winced, realizing he was the one to take those away from you.

“No” his voice was deep and absolute. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, because you knew it was meaningless, so you just stood there staring back at him. “I’m sorry” he started awkwardly, he’s never been a man of many words but if it meant not losing you, he’d suck it up.

“I was selfish and avoided you for my own personal reasons. I didn’t want to let you into my life and have you taken away like the others I’ve loved”  he sincerely spoke, trying his hardest to get you to listen. You’re breath hitched as he continued,  “I’m an awful person for what I’ve done to you, but please, consider letting me into your life because there’s nowhere else I’d like to be” his words were genuine. You didn’t know when you’d started crying, but you had, and now your tears slid down your face in huge drops; all your bottled emotions rising to the surface and overflowing.

Giyuu wanted to wipe your tears away, but he didn’t want to touch you univinted. Your voice was heavy and choppy from the sobs you let out as you cried.”I forgive you Giyuu, but I need time”. You would never shove him away, but you couldn’t accept him back so quickly, these last few weeks had been a living hell and that wasn’t something you could just forget.

You composed yourself as best as you could, even though your voice was still shaky, you’d stopped crying. “Giyuu I’m leaving on a mission for a few days, that will be enough time for me to sort everything out, but you are forgiven”.  Giyuu watched as you raised you pinky, the one that had the string wrapped around it, just like his.

“Giyuu I need you to make a promise to me first. Promise that no matter how it may seem, you’ll have faith in me. I don’t know what happened in your past, and I hope you’ll tell me one day, but I’m not going to leave you so easily. Promise that you won’t shut me out like this again and that you’ll be honest with me about your feelings as best as you can. And Finally,” you paused as you formed the faintest smile, “promise to never break my heart like this again”

Giyuu was stunned, you’d forgiven him and he was more grateful than words could explain. His mouth quivered as a small smile crept its way onto his face. His pinky, the one with the other end of the sting, wrapped around yours reassuringly. You two watch as the red string, the one that has tied you both together your whole lives faded away.

“I promise”

Main Masterlist

Ahh this request made me feel all kinds of ways, but I’m so glad that I’ve written it. It made me feel so many emotions, so thank you for giving me the privilege of writing it. This is also the longest fic I’ve written on this blog so yay! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, if you did I’d appreciate it if you read my other work. Thank you ~Amanda

[freddiesaysalright]

Tale as Old As Time - Chapter 5

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @xviiarez​, @rogerina-owns-me​, @brianssixpence​, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​, @queenmylovely​, @queen-paladin​, @hah0106​

A/N: The grand finale! Thanks to everyone who has supported and loved this story!

Warning(s): Mild descriptions of violence

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Chapter 5 here we go!!!

When you arrived home, the windows of the house were dark, save your father’s bedroom. You released Dotty into the pasture and flew inside. You already heard your father coughing. 

“Papa!” you cried as you burst into his room.

Your father was lying in bed, barely conscious. He didn’t acknowledge your entrance. You went to his side and took his hand. His skin was as cold as ice.

“Papa?” you whispered, looking desperately at his tired face. “Papa, it’s me. I’m home.”

“Y/N?” came a voice from the doorway.

You looked up and saw Lyle standing there. He had a bowl of something steaming on a tray, but he nearly dropped it upon seeing you.

“Lyle!” you sighed gratefully. “Please, tell me what’s going on with my father.”

“I’m afraid it’s taken a turn for the worse,” he said. “It’s odd, since his sickness isn’t very aggressive. But it could be the stress of losing you and his confrontation with Victor.”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

Lyle explained to you that after you left, and Paul returned, he had gone straight to the village, looking frantic. He ran into Victor, who decided at that moment to talk to Paul about the marriage. He gathered the whole town into the square and announced your engagement. But Paul retaliated. He publicly stated that he had not given his blessing to the marriage and did not approve of the match. Then he said you had been taken captive by some monster living in the old palace. He asked all the men to gather their weapons and follow him there to rescue you. Unfortunately, no one believed the story. 

“No one believed him?” you questioned.

Lyle raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, it’s not true, is it?”

“It is true!” you insisted. “Only, he’s not really a monster. He may look frightening, but he’d never hurt anybody.”

The pharmacist’s eyes went wide. “Y/N, you can’t be serious! You must realize how this sounds -”

“Well, then what do people think happened to me?” you wondered.

“They just thought you’d gotten lost,” he explained. “Victor told us you had gone to the big city. He led a search party for you, and they looked for weeks, but eventually, most of them assumed the worst. However, Victor has continued to look daily.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you really going to marry him?” Lyle asked.

You shook your head. “No, I couldn’t now. Not when I…” you trailed off. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love Victor and I’ve decided to end our engagement.”

“That’s a relief,” Lyle said. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You smiled at him. Afterward, Lyle told you to get some rest after your journey, and that he would keep an eye on your father. As you crawled into your bed, the difference was clear. This didn’t really feel like home anymore. You missed Rami and the castle now just as much as you’d missed your father when you were there. Your heart was torn in two.

Rami had given up on sleep. He remained sadly next to the rose, watching as the petals wilted and fell. He let out a soft whimper. He missed you so much already and it had only been a day. How did he expect to go on with his life now that he had known you? Now that he had lost you? It seemed impossible.

The next day, you woke and went to make yourself some breakfast. You opted for your preserves. Lyle emerged from your father’s room.

“How is he today?” you asked.

“Much the same,” Lyle said. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news, Y/N.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed, though you knew it was a lie. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

You opened the jar. Your father had already been into it, apparently, but you stopped and stared at it. They were grossly discolored. 

“That’s odd,” you said. “I made these to last all winter. This is a relatively fresh jar. How could it be spoiled already?”

Lyle shrugged. “It was your first try at it. Don’t be too upset you got one wrong.”

“I didn’t get it wrong,” you insisted. “I know I did everything right.”

“Y/N, don’t be stubborn, anyone could have made a mistake,” he replied.

You frowned at him, but he ignored you. You went to get a new jar and you used that instead. 

You and Lyle cared for your father all day. There was no improvement. You were suspicious of this rapid development of new symptoms. Symptoms he had never shown before. Fever, chills, nausea, and delirium. Paul would call for you as you stood beside him, completely unaware that you were home. He hardly noticed Lyle either. Another hopeless feeling came over you. For a distraction, you went to begin dinner. Lyle agreed to stay for the meal, since you were certain your father had no more money to pay him.

Just as you were placing the soup in front of Lyle, the front door opened. There stood Victor, who was taken aback by the sight of you.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, putting your hands on your hips.

“Y/N!” Victor cried, shifting into his normal, annoying disposition. “I’m so happy you’re safe and home! I was just coming to check on Paul.”

He started to cross the room - arms open - but you dodged the embrace. You doubted every word he said. Victor was vain and proud, and he would have no kindness toward someone who had humiliated him.  

“Victor, we need to talk,” you said. “I heard about what happened with my father, and I think we should clarify some things.”

His brow furrowed. “I...alright.”

You led him outside to spare Lyle the discomfort of having to witness your break up. Victor seemed agitated, like you’d just caught him in the middle of something. You pushed this observation to the back of your mind. Victor was almost always up to something.

“I agree that our engagement needs clarification, Y/N,” he began, resuming his usual air of arrogance. “Your father had everyone confused. Especially with all that talk of a beast.”

“Well, whether or not you believe in the beast doesn’t bother me,” you said. “My father was right. I’m not going to marry you.”

His eyes went wide. Something flashed behind them, so quickly you almost missed it. His whole face shifted. He looked dangerous.

“What?” he returned.

“I’m taking back my acceptance,” you said. “What I’ve learned these last few months being away is that I need to live my life for me. I won’t imprison myself by becoming your wife.”

He scowled. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you said assuredly, trying to conceal how frightened you were. 

He looked sharply away, releasing a low breath, before facing you again. 

“Who is he?” he questioned.

“Who is who?” you shot back.

“The other man, Y/N!” he shouted. “There’s someone else, I know it!”

“It’s no longer your concern, Victor!” you returned. 

A beat passed and you collected yourself. 

“Good day,” you said calmly, and started back inside.

You didn’t get very far. Victor snatched your wrist and yanked you back toward him. You yelped in surprise and the sudden pain from his twisting your arm. He grabbed a fistful of your hair with his free hand, and his nails scraped your scalp. You winced as he forced your face within inches of his own.

“You really were at the palace, weren’t you?” he said. “The beast your father spoke of is real, isn’t it?”

“Let me go,” you replied, struggling against his grip. 

“Isn’t it?!” he demanded.

Fear struck your heart. You had never seen such a wild, inhuman look in Victor’s eyes before. He was crazed.

“I - it’s true,” you admitted. 

He laughed a mirthless, empty laugh. “You are just pathetic. Don’t tell me you love this beast!”

“He’s not a beast, Victor!” you snapped, gaining courage for Rami. “He’s a prince!”

“A prince, is he?” he mocked. “Don’t be ridiculous. The prince was killed by the same monster that killed the king and queen.”

“The only monster I see is you!”

He glowered at you and brought your face close to his again. 

“I’ll have you for my wife, Y/N,” he spat. “And I will eliminate anyone who gets in my way.”

You felt his breath hot on your face.

“By the way, how’s your father been enjoying his breakfast?” he sneered. 

Your eyes went wide as a chill ran up your spine.

“You poisoned him?!” you gasped.

“I will eliminate anyone who gets in my way,” he repeated. “But I can see my methods with your father are far too time consuming. I will remove the beast much faster.”

He glanced at his sword.

“I won’t let you!” you cried, and tried once again to wrench yourself free. You could only wince as his grip tightened.

“You can’t stop me,” he said.

With that, he began to drag you toward the cellar. You fought fiercely against him, but he was too strong. He hurled you down into the darkness. You scrambled to your feet and tried to charge back up the stairs, but the cellar doors were slammed in your face. You heard him slide the wood through the handles to lock it.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you’ll live in the palace again when I buy it,” he said. “And you’ll remember who you really belong to with the beast’s head mounted on our wall.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. As Victor’s evil laughter died down and you heard him gallop away on his horse, your mind began working on ways to get out. You could call for help, but Lyle would not be able to hear you from the house. Your father made the cellar soundproof years ago so he would not disturb you while you read. This was the first time you had ever regretted it.

You put your hands in front of you and began to make your way slowly through the darkness. It was pitch black in the cellar, which only heightened your panic. You had to do something to get out. You had to reach Rami before Victor did.

Rami left his room for the first time since you left, that evening. He had no real destination in mind, but the sight of the rose was beginning to make him ill. It felt like looking at his own doom.

He found that a stroll around the castle didn’t help his gloomy mood. Everything now reminded him of you. He passed the library and peeked through the doors, half expecting to see you asleep at one of the tables. Only, it was empty. He went to the dining room and recalled the first time you had dined together after learning his name. It felt so quiet now without your voice. As he went past the ballroom where he had danced with you, just nights ago, a sharp pang hit his heart. With a low growl, he slammed the doors shut.

“Prince Rami?” asked Mrs. Carson. “I know you’re not alright, so I won’t ask that. But I will ask this - is there anything we can do for you?”

Rami shook his head. “Nothing matters now.”

She sighed and watched him walk on, heading back toward the west wing.

“Would you like to take a turn around the garden, sir?” she called after him, but he didn’t answer. “Prince Rami?”

He ignored her again and then disappeared down the corridor. She shook her head. As she turned to go back to her own room, she saw Daisy coming down the hall.

“Mrs. Carson, would it be alright if I went down to the village once a week?” she asked. “I know Y/N had to go, but I’d really like to continue my lessons with her. D’you think she’ll still have me?”

Mrs. Carson smiled. “Of course she would, Daisy. I think we can spare you once a week.”

“You don’t think the master will mind?” she wondered.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Carson assured her. “He wants you to learn, and he can eat sandwiches for his meals one day out of seven.”

Daisy beamed. “Could I go down to the village tonight? To check with Y/N?”

“Sure,” Mrs. Carson said. “You may take the guest horse down. But I’d suggest staying the night with Y/N if you can. It’ll be late by the time you get there.”

“Alright,” Daisy agreed. “Will you tell the master?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Carson!”

She took off down the hall. Mrs. Carson chuckled to herself. Perhaps Daisy would be a reason for you to return, if Rami was not enough.

The housekeeper continued her rounds. She was putting some linens away when she heard a scream from the main entrance of the castle. She jumped, dropping the linens, but took off in the direction of the cry. She was not far, and when she arrived moments later, she understood. Thomas was sprawled out by the front door, bleeding from his head. Anna was beside him, in tears.

“Oh, Mrs. Carson, look!” she cried. “Something awful has happened!”

Mrs. Carson knelt down and patted Thomas’s cheek.

“Thomas!” she said desperately. “Thomas, are you alright?”

Anna put her fingers to his neck. 

“He has a pulse,” she said. “So he’s alive, just knocked out.”

“But who would have done this?” Mrs. Carson wondered. 

“Look!” Anna gasped, and pointed to the tile floor. 

Mrs. Carson followed her finger and then she saw it. Large, dusty boot prints. 

“Someone’s here,” Mrs. Carson said grimly.

Anna gulped.

Rami was in his room when he heard Anna scream. He left there and headed toward the stairs to investigate. Only, he was brought to a halt when he saw someone he did not recognize standing in the hallway. His hackles rose and he started to growl.

“Who are you?” Rami demanded. “You’re not welcome here!”

The man was tall and handsome. And his clothes indicated he had some money. Not royalty money, but enough to afford finer fabrics. He swiftly unsheathed his sword and brandished it.

“I’m Y/N’s fiance,” the man said. “You will no longer terrorize this palace.”

Rami froze. Fiance? You had never mentioned a fiance - or any other man in your life besides your father. Since when were you engaged? 

“Fiance?” he questioned.

The man began to laugh. “My name is Victor Prouvaire, foul beast. For my dear Y/N’s honor….”

The man continued to speak, but Rami didn’t hear him. All he could feel was that his heart was impossibly more broken than when you left. He was suffocating all of a sudden. His eyes stung with fresh tears. You were engaged. To a handsome, strong, rich man.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost didn’t catch Victor charging at him. Rami quickly dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the stroke of Victor’s sword. Rami turned and ran back toward his room. 

Meanwhile, you were still locked in the cellar. The only thing you had managed to find was your father’s rubber mallet. You were whacking away at the doors, but the block holding them shut was stronger than the swing of your arm. You were already out of breath and sweating. 

“Come on!” you shouted as you gave it one more thwack.

Nothing happened. Exhausted you sank to your knees. 

“Oh, no,” you whispered to yourself. “Rami, I’m so sorry.”

You sat still for a moment, trying to think of any other solution or way out. Then you heard a slow clip clop of horses hooves. You thought at first that it was Victor, but the horse’s steps weren’t heavy enough to be his.

You only had one shot. You banged your fists against the door as hard as you could. 

“HEEEEEEELP!” you screamed. “HELP ME, PLEASE!”

“Y/N?”

The voice you heard could have knocked you off your feet with the relief it brought. 

“Daisy!” you cried. “Daisy, hurry, unlock the door!”

You heard the block slide out and then she tugged the doors up and open. You ran up the stairs and pulled her into the tightest hug you’d ever given anyone.

“Y/N, what’s happening?” she wondered. “Why were you locked in there?!”

“It’s a long story,” you said. “But we’ve got to get back to the palace as quick as we can, Rami’s in trouble.”

“W - what?!” she stammered. 

“There’s no time to explain, we’ve got to go now!” 

You quickly mounted her horse and helped her up behind you. She put her arms around your waist and you urged the horse forward. You galloped back into the woods with only one goal in mind - save Rami.

Rami was struggling to keep avoiding the swipe of Victor’s sword. He didn’t want to hurt Victor if he was someone you cared about, no matter how much it hurt Rami to think it.

Rami wanted to avoid his own room, so he led Victor into a guest room. There the struggle continued. Rami was dodging every stroke until he was backed against the window. Victor moved to lop Rami’s head off, but the prince ducked. Victor shattered the glass window, and Rami quickly jumped through it onto the balcony.

“What’s the matter, beast?” Victor taunted. “Too heartbroken to fight back?”

Rami didn’t answer. Mostly because it was true. He had no heart to fight. His heart was with you in the village. It would remain with you until his dying days.

“Did you really think she would love you?” Victor continued. “What woman could ever love you, when she could have me?”

Finally, Rami was backed up onto the railing of the balcony. He growled nervously. He had to make a move or risk falling to his death. With a snarl, he struck out with his paw. Victor had been drawing his sword back, so Rami hit him square in the jaw. Victor reeled back, and Rami moved to run past him back inside, but there was a crack of thunder. The sound caused Rami to lose his balance and he tumbled off the rail. 

He reacted quickly. He twisted around and snatched the rail in his paw. His hind legs just barely touched the roof of the room below. But rain began to spill from the heavy clouds above, making his grip on both things slippery. 

Victor got to his feet, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Oh, I’ve got you right where I want you now, beast,” he said. “Y/N is mine!”

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed, lighting up Victor’s deranged face. He raised his sword over his head, preparing to deliver a devastating and deadly blow. Rami squeezed his eyes shut and thought only of you. If these were to be his last moments, he would remind himself of his dearest friend, and the only woman he ever loved.

“NO!” someone screamed.

Rami opened his eyes and looked up through the rain. You had cast yourself between him and Victor’s sword, and you were struggling with the man, pushing him back away from the balcony.

Rami took this moment to heave himself up. He was astonished to see you, but pleased. He was even more grateful that you were there to protect him. Victor dislodged himself from you and shoved you hard to the ground. Rami saw red and let out a roar as he threw himself at Victor. 

Victor, caught unaware by Rami, dropped his sword. You grabbed it and walked over to where Rami had Victor pinned to the floor. You pointed the sword at Victor’s throat.

“Get out,” you said. “You are never to come near me or Rami again, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Victor said reluctantly. 

You glanced at Rami. He met your gaze and nodded. He released Victor, who got to his feet. You hurled the sword over the balcony. Victor gasped when you did.

“You can’t use it to threaten anyone else,” you said. “Now leave us alone.”

Victor looked between you and Rami and with a huff, started to walk away. You and Rami only had eyes for each other.

“He said he was your fiance,” Rami began.

“He was,” you admitted. “But I called off the engagement.”

Rami took your hands in his paws and pressed them to his face. His warm, soft face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Is your father alright?” 

“He will be,” you said. “Once I tell the pharmacist to treat him for poisoning.”

“Y/N, are you seri -”

He was cut short when Victor appeared again, this time with a dagger, which he plunged right into Rami’s side. You let out a scream of horror as he howled and reared back, inadvertently taking Victor with him. Victor stumbled when Rami thrashed, and then the former hit the balcony rail. Fearing Rami would topple over it, you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward you. 

Victor, however, was not so fortunate. He slipped on the wet stones, went over the railing, and was not long or quick enough to recover and grab on to something. You heard his yell fade as he fell into the darkness.

You eased Rami down to the ground, cradling his head in your lap. His labored breathing frightened you.

“Easy, Rami,” you said soothingly. 

“I - I’m so happy you came back,” he panted. 

“Don’t talk now,” you replied gently. “Just hold on while I get you some help.”

You started to get up.

“No!” he protested, keeping you to him. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

You turned your head and shouted for Mrs. Carson, hoping she could hear you.

“Just hold on, Rami,” you went on.

“Y/N, I need to...I nee...there’s something I must tell you,” he said.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” you returned, adjusting his jacket to cover him tighter. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell me.”

He shook his head. A lump appeared in your throat as your lower lip quivered.

“Rami, please,” you whimpered. “Don’t leave me. Please…”

He offered a weak, shaky smile. “I’m j-just happy I could see you...one more time…”

“Rami…” his name fell feebly from your lips.

“Y/N…” he breathed.

His eyes closed softly. His head slumped to his right. His chest stilled.

“Rami,” you said, clutching handfuls of his shirt. Tears slid down your cheeks. “Rami, don’t leave me.” 

You became frantic. “Rami, please! Please!”

You tried to shake him, but he was too large and too far gone. You didn’t hear Mrs. Carson, Anna, and Daisy approach - they had put Thomas to bed - and they watched you call for their master. Daisy clapped a hand over her mouth. Anna looked away. Mrs. Carson had tears down her own cheeks. 

“Rami,” you sobbed. “I love you.”

You rested your head on his chest and wept openly. It seemed impossible that you should lose him now when you had come so far. Rami had become your best friend and the love of your life. He saw you for who you were - as more than a pretty face. And you saw him for who he was - a kind, gentle, and generous prince. It couldn’t be true that he was gone.

“Girl,” said a smooth, sultry voice from above you.

You looked up and saw the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. She was gold and glowing. You might have mistaken her for an angel if the air around her didn’t suddenly feel dangerous.

“Do you speak truly when you say you love this creature?” she asked.

“He’s not a creature,” you returned defensively. “He’s a prince.” You paused to take a deep breath. “And the love of my life.”

The woman opened her hands and between them appeared the rose from Rami’s room. It had just one more petal. You watched with bated breath as it came loose and flitted down. The rose lost the pink hue around it. 

“The curse is broken,” she said. “Just in time.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, realizing who she was. The enchantress who had done this to Rami in the first place.

“You’re horrible,” you spat. “It’s not just in time. It’s much too late.”

She smirked at you and it sent a chill up your spine.

“Not quite, girl.”

The rose stem turned to bright pink dust in her hands. Then it all turned gold. The particles fell over Rami like fresh snow. They then sank into his fur. A soft glow began peeking through, as if coming from inside him, and his body began to rise off the ground. 

“Stand back,” the enchantress instructed you.

You hesitantly released your hold on Rami and got to your feet. Mrs. Carson  took your arm and pulled you over to them. All eyes were fixed on Rami’s slowly ascending form. The glow inside him grew brighter, and then beams of light emerged from all over him - his mouth, his eyes, the tips of his fingers and toes. You gasped as you watched his body contort and change with the movement of the light. His paws turned into human hands, his back legs turned to human ones, his shoulders shrunk and lost the hair, his face was completely engulfed in light. The wind picked up and then Rami was returning to the ground. He was smaller than before, and had lost his coat. He was a fully formed man.

He lay still for a moment on the ground, and you feared that it hadn’t worked. You were too frightened to approach. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he finally stirred, pushed himself onto his knees, and then rose to his full height. He examined himself and a smile formed over his lips. He whipped around to face you.

“Y/N?” he questioned.

He was so handsome. He had smooth skin. A strong jaw. Thick, curly, dark hair that reminded you a lot of the fur you had become so familiar with. His body was lean and healthy. He looked like a hero to you.

Mrs. Carson gave you a nudge toward him. You inched over.

“Y/N, it’s me,” he said, holding out his hand.

With a full stride, you came closer, reaching out for him as well. When your hands clasped, you felt his warm skin for the first time. He pulled you slowly forward until you were face to face.

“Rami?”

He looked deeply into your eyes and nodded. Those beautiful eyes you had come to know were there. You saw behind them the Rami you loved.

“It really is you!” you cried.

You threw yourself into his arms. He spun you around and you laughed together in celebration. Your heart felt so light, it could have floated right out of your chest. When he set you down, he cupped your face in his hands.

“I love you,” you said again.

“I love you more,” he returned.

With that, he kissed you. A passionate, jubilant, true love’s kiss. Neither of you noticed the enchantress disappear from the balcony. Daisy, Anna, and Mrs. Carson were all dabbing their eyes.

“Mrs. Carson, are they going to live happily ever after?” Daisy asked.

“I believe so,” Mrs. Carson sniffled.

You and Rami giggled at each other, cheeks aching from all the smiling. Then, you kissed your handsome prince once more. As you would do for the rest of your days.

***

With Rami returned to himself, you went to the village to get your father. Rami paid for him to be treated, and cured, with a doctor coming to check on him periodically to be sure. The villagers were thrilled to have their prince. Many people came to work at the palace, including Elaine, who had taken to Daisy. You and Rami married as soon as you could. It was a grand and beautiful affair. And Daisy was right. You lived happily ever after.

~The End~

[mynameisdreartblog]

Vacation Resorts 1

Aries: Adare Manor. “Our revenge will be the laughter of our children.” I don’t know who said that, but me makes me wanna act ballistically. «And why do you suspect that phrases like these trigger a response within you?» <Réamoinn pauses for a moment, stretches their arms into the air while using this opportunity to crack their knuckles further.> I honestly don’t know. I know saying ’I don’t know’ is a copout, but… «There’s no such thing as a copout here; this is a therapy session.» Right, right, but I feel like this is highly transactive, and I’m not offering anything of value: There’s “nothin’ in me noggin” as my mum used to say. «Well, just understand that not having the right thoughts available at the pristine moment is a perfectly normal thing in sessions, so don’t beat yourself up over it… However, I will inform you that I only have so much time for a single session of an entire day, so the more time you spend, the more you should ensure that your words are, uh, ‘quality over quantity’ as we say.» [,] <Réamoinn slouches to the side of the therapeutic sofa and begins to do that weird quirk where they jitter randomly: Likely an operative test of the body’s stimulate functions.> «Are you shivering? You look like you’re shivering; are you cold?» Aye, no. A thermostat’s not gonna heal the cold of my heart, doc. «Uh-huh, and what do you mean by the “cold of my heart”?» I thought the simile was obvious, but it basically means that I feel as if my ability to change things by myself has frozen over, and now I need something external to thaw it out of its icy state. «That sounds quite dramatic, so it must be a real detriment for you, I’m guessing.» Oh, you don’t know the extent of it, doc. You feel like a human time-capsule: Absolutely divorced from any power you have in the present to do something about the pit you’re being sucked into, and you have to accept it because there’s literally nothing you can do but wait for time to change your situation. «You know, I think what you’re describing is really applicable to a lot of other people.» I don’t doubt it, aye.

Gemini: Awanjiwo. <Thinking to themselves> I spilt goat’s milk all over my transistor, but it’s not like I needed that anyways: There’s a map of this entire scheme in my head, and it’ll be relevant so long as I keep using it. <A sudden change of psyche emerges> I could’ve given this back to that poor boy I saw earlier who had nothing for entertainment other than rusty cans, dirty footballs, and his flesh and blood companions. That kid could’ve grown to appreciate the internal workings of the radio, and who knows what education he could pursue after that… That kid could’ve became a stellar engineer! He could’ve founded the cure for cancer, mild discomfort, or working in general! No, what I decided to do with my time on Earth was keep something to myself that I never really needed: How will that reflect in eons when I’m gone? I won’t be relevant after that, but it still matters in the moment, right? But why does the ’moment’ matter; what even is the moment? Does anybody else experience the ‘moment’ differently? <A bird comes by to lick up the milk, now spilling onto the cabin floor: Rambling ensues in Truce’s mind as they contemplate why they’re here and what the radio’s dysfunction means for the ripples of the future.> [,] <A distant yelling is heard across the beach, and like that, all of Truce’s tangents cease and they perk their ears towards the sound.> Oi, what the bloody hell was that? <The signals become louder and resemble static more and more, beginning to overstimulate Truce.> Aargh, cut that crap out! Who the goddamn hell is there and why are they loud! <Truce’s hand-radio starts crackling, making them pick it up and inspect it. Suddenly, a rather clear transition comes through.> «Truce! Yes, you: The Truce who just came here from the western tip of Japen Island. Come in… Respond to me! I can see you right through my binoculars.» Then what’s the purpose of using the damn radio? Just yell at me if you’re that close for Christ’s sake. Lord knows you’re not the first stalker I’ve dealt with in my life. Fuck off, will you? […] «I mean regardless, we’re at a plane-crash site not far from where you currently are, so we’re at least worth interacting with, right?.» <Truce sets up a makeshift fire.> Yeah, get back to me before the plastic I melted collapses my lungs. <Truce throws his radio two feet out from him.>

Scorpio: Hanhwa Resort Seorak Sorano. Now, I interact with a lot of weird counselors every day, but the one I remember the best was from last year, and their name was Sonnim: They were short (as far as I’d know compared to my view), they’d always show up at the weirdest times, and they were always bossy but she said she’s like that because “you need to balance prohibited and bad behavior.” She made a big deal out of the most silly things, and I always wanted to say to her that I wasn’t really hurting anyone by doing it, so it’s not really bad. It’s worse because she also punishes me when I do truly hurtful things: She’s consistent! <Juyeon kicks her legs into the air from her spot on the bench, flicking one of her shoes off and narrowly hitting another kid.> It gets worse when I try to talk to her about it: She doesn’t seem to like honesty. <A cohort of red squirrels gather around Juyeon’s position at the recess bench.> Did I mention she’s short? I know my mom told me not to mock people for their height, but boy, she is short. I mean, I’m short even compared to other girls, but I take one glance at her and she makes me feel more confident about myself. <Juyeon kicks her legs into the air a second time, this time her other shoe remains on while the contrast between that and her shoeless foot is still present.> I’m bored… I don’t know, I think I liked it better before when there was less politics in all of it: It was about the raw fun of it all. <One of the squirrels from earlier returns to Juyeon after she kicked up an acorn beneath her feet with acorn in its cheeks: It stares down her contemplative reflection for a solid amount of time before moving onto another site in the playground.> Those weren’t even the worst parts of the whole thing… <Daylight fades and a moody night envelopes the sky: Colors start to glisten intensely as the emotions become stronger.> I don’t think she was even justified despite what she always told me. She was pretty mean all things considered. I remember her saying to me once “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”, and I respond with “I don’t kiss my mom on the lips if that’s what you mean; that’s gross.” <Electricity surges through the landscape which now looks like a mental breakdown visually translated. That one red squirrel from earlier races against the corruption with great finesse: This scene seems to be one of trauma, but that isn’t the case. All that’s there is just profound confusion.>

Capricorn: White Point Beach Resort. I hate just hearing the word “neat” in response to something positively eventful happening in my life, like showcasing the class a odd and interesting fact: “Odd and interesting” being the phrase I ingrained into myself to make me feel better. Just saying the word “neat” provokes an emotional response so barren and dreadful that one might as well not have said anything. There’s no desire to dig deeper into the cave of knowledge presented in front of people, and it’s especially more insulting when you discover that cave for them. I present my work to other people because I want to hear their perspectives too, but not everybody’s inclined to give their own unique perspective: If only they understood how truly irreplaceable and ephemeral it is, then they’d take stronger advantage of it… Back to how much I hate the word “neat”, if I just wanted to hear a word that invokes such a boring and unemotional character, like myself, then I would just recite what I think my character is in a mirror, like myself. What’d be more imaginative is the filler of words you’d usually associate with cussing, also conveniently monosyllabic, like “shit”, “cunt”, “fuck”, or “merde” if you’re feeling poignant. These words imply an insulting quality, but that’s arguably more unique than the thousands of “neats” I hear that become unique in their own collective nature. [,] I have no other emotions besides founded frustration and unfounded frustration, and that’s one painful polarity to define your life by, right? Good thing I don’t do that: Why would I? [,] If you’re gonna ask whether or not I know I sound like an asshole, I do. I think I do, but the subjective values of what makes someone an asshole are flipping my judgment to and fro. [,] I… I’m growing exhausted by all of this: It must be because of my exhaustive personality or the fact that this music is far too energetic for the situation at hand… Perhaps it’s because I camped out in freezing weather last night? No, my body is too resistant to the cold for something like that. [,] Am I in the wrong here? Nah, my students need to understand the value of liberal education through the brutality of its strict twin.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

I started 43 but I'm probably going to ditch it

Staying out all night, the pair of them had watched the sunrise before Keith drove the hoverbike back to the hospital, with an exhausted Lance on the back. The date hadn't gone the way he'd expected or wanted, but once Keith got on the hoverbike, his enthusiasm over exploring shamed Lance's silly ideas of watching the night sky together. He'd wanted to do something soft and quite with the man he loved.... Not fly around like absolute idiots and break their promise of no near crashes. Keith had shot off a cliff, not realising until half way down. Lance had unashamedly screamed. The only light they had with them was the light coming off the hoverbike. He was falling through a never ending blackness, with no idea when he'd hit the ground. Nope. He didn't need that in his life. He'd had phoebs of nightmares just as scary and daunting with nothing waiting to greet him. Mentally Lance was exhausted, but abundantly relieved that Keith had had fun. His boyfriend whooping and yelling as he let loose in the bike. With Keith's happiness had been the objective of the night it could technically be counted as a win... maybe... Lance was too tired to sort his thoughts into anything that really made sense. He wanted to collapse into bed, and sleep the whole quintant away. Plus, if he was sleeping, he wouldn't have to deal with his failed therapy session and explaining to Keith that Coran knew everything. Returning to the room they'd been using, Daehra was waiting there with Lucteal. Coran standing by the door looking uncomfortably worried. The need for sleep was cleared away with a single glance around the room. Something was up with his friends. A something that even Keith noticed as he cleared his throat "Has something happened?" "Our father passed away last night. We do not know what has happened" Striding across the room, Lance threw his arms around Daehra. Her father might have been a piece of shit, but he was still their father and the ruler of the planet "I'm so sorry, Dae. You too, Lucteal. Is there anything you two need?" "Annla asked if we could come home? But, I do not wish to leave you while you are recovering" "Dae, no. Hey. I'm recovered, completely recovered" "Yet it took longer as I missed the implant in your head. I am so sorry, Leandro. I knew something was wrong, but my scanners did not provide all the answers... I thought it was due to the enormous amount of damage you took..." Rubbing Daehra's back, Lance hushed softly "It's your father. I know what happened, happened. But all that was in the past. He still fathered you, and I'm so happy he did. You, Lucteal and Annla. I'd do anything for you guys. So if you need to go, go. If you want me there, I'll be there for all of you. The Telula is always available for you two, I trust you both... I trust you with her, and Lucteal when he's supervised. I know I've been a crappy leader lately, especially disappearing on you for two phoebs, but I still want to be here for you. Here. There. Whatever you need" Daehra snorted at him, breaking the hug to wipe her eyes "I have never once doubted you cared for us. I also don't doubt you are tired of sitting here and doing nothing" Lance was mildly offended, but happy Daehra was throwing that jab... maybe not that jab in particular, nonetheless, she still had her undeniable spark after all that had happened "That's true, but not what's important. What's important is you, your family and the stability of your planet. Anything you need, I'm here for you" "Now that father has passed, Annla's mother will rule until the first born male heir of the bloodline comes of age" Lucteal sounded slightly bitter, though Lance knew he had no interest in ruling. It had to sting though, he was biologically the son of the king. No "bloodline" business about it "Given we're on New Altea, we can open a wormhole. I can have you both him within the varga, if you'd like?" Daehra nodded slowly "Annla was most upset, as will the other children be. Yet I worry for you..." "Dae, I'll be ok. Seriously" "Your emotions are so strong, Leandro. You have your therapy, and Kre'el is being transferred. I know much you wish to know why and how everything happened" Yeah. He did. He did even though he'd realised it might just fuck his mental health up even more to have those answers "Between her, and you guys, I chose the friends that are my weird space family. Keith can go to Daibazaal in my place, until we have figured out what's happening on your planet" Crossing his arms, his boyfriend looked pissed. This wasn't what either of them expected on the back of their date the previous night slash all morning "I'm not letting you go off on your own again. It was dangerous enough before Kre'el was taken in. Now that she's gone, someone out there is going to be vying her for place. No. End of story. I'm coming with you" "Keith..." "You nearly fucking died Lance!" "I know... but..." This was his team. His team who'd put up with all his crazy shit "You'd chose them over me?" Lance clenched his hands into fists, a fierce glare on his face. He wasn't choosing them over Keith. He was trying to find a way to make both situations work. Why couldn't Keith see that? No. He didn't want to be parted from his lover for potentially movements, but things bigger than them were happening "I would when you ask shit like that! What the quiznak, man? You've been to their planet before. Coran can open a wormhole..." "I can't believe you. What was last night about then?" Now Lance was confused "Last night had nothing to do with this. Last night was me trying to show I love you, and trying to show that even if I'm ten shades of fucked up, that I appreciate everything you do for me" "Bullshit. I know you got upset more than once last night" Lance felt panic rising. Sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, he took a deep breath through his nose, then out through his mouth. Keith was mad at the situation. Not mad at him. The situation... "Well?!" No. Keith was mad at him. Clutching at his chest, he sucked down another forced breath "Keith, perhaps..." Keith quickly cut Coran off "No. I want to know why my boyfriend wasn't happy on our date last night. Especially now he's decided he wants to go off to the other side of the galaxy without me" "I don't want to go to the other side of the galaxy without you! I want to be there for my team! But I also need someone I fucking trust on Daibazaal! I'm not leaving you! I wasn't not happy with our date! I just thought we were going to lie there and watch the stars because that was something fun I did as kid, and wanted to share it with you. I was happy you were happy. I didn't love dropping off cliffs in the blackness, but I loved hearing how you were! Ok!? I want to be there for Daehra, Lucteal and Annla because they're important to me. I want to be there and get answers from Kre'el, because she's the fucking reason I was tortured and raped! I want to be here because I want to get better and I want to get clean. I don't want to be on the Atlas or on Daibazaal without you, because I can't handle it right now. I'm sick of sitting in this hospital with everyone walking on eggshells around me! I'm healed. I'm physically fine. I haven't even self harmed, just to feel the fucking pain because my senses are seriously out of whack still. But you know what I want most of all. I want my fucking boyfriend to get that I want to be there for my team. I want him to get that just because we're not together doesn't mean jack shit. You all fucking want me to get better, than stop treating me like I can't make my own choices. Yeah, most of them have fucking sucked, but I don't regret what's happened after Daehra and Lucteal came into my life... I don't regret them" Oxygen was a precious thing. Lance finding it harder and harder to breathe as his rant continued in the now silent room. Crossing the space, Lucteal sat beside him, his hand moving to rub at Lance's back in comfort, but only causing his skin to prickle. Sensing his discomfort, the young empath removed his hand "Leandro, we would be most grateful if you would accompany us. But if you feel you need to be here too, or on Daibazaal, we will also understand. This is our family's matter. We will think no less of you" "I want to be there for both of you..." Lance severely regretted blowing up. Keith hadn't said anything, only making his anxieties worse. Clapping his hands, Coran made him flinch away from the unexpected noise "I think we should all take a moment. A death is a tragic thing. Lance is correct, we can open a wormhole to your planet. We can also open one from your planet to ours if you require one. He is also correct. The Atlas will be here within this phoeb. Then there will be much work to be done. We on New Altea are happy to be of assistance" Tuning out on Coran, Lance was distracted by the soft whine from under the bed. Kosmo crawling out on his stomach, shaking himself off, then moving to nudge at Lance's leg with his nose "I don't like this" Lance's chest grew tighter "But they are your team. If... if you're going, Kosmo is going with you to protect you. You're keeping your comms on at all times, and you're calling every quintant at least twice. I want to know the moment you get there, and how long you'll be there. I don't want to be the kind of boyfriend that stops you being there for a friend. I just... I want you to start realising you're not indestructible. You were seriously wounded, and you're still recovering from it in more ways than one. I'm also seriously worried over the king's death. We have no information. This could have been one of Kre'el's men finishing the job... I just... I don't want to lose you. Or have to sit there and watch you in another pod. Or watch you push yourself so hard you can't even walk straight... I don't want my husband coming back to me in a body bag..." "He won't. You have my promise that if it was to come to it, I would give my life for Leandro" Lucteal was firm, yet Lance didn't want anyone giving their lives for him. The tone of Keith's voice had slowly started loosening the tight feeling, but he didn't know if he had his panic attack under control again. He knew Keith had said something profound for him, but his mind had already started taking an eraser to it. "Then it is settled, Lance will go with Lucteal and Daehra, with Kosmo. While Keith will return to Daibazaal. Daehra, you said your people aren't as medically advanced as Earth or Altea. Would you and Lucteal like to come with and see if there is anything suitable here that might help your people? I'll also need the coordinates of your planet" "Thank you, Coran. We'll begin preparations" * Keith watched as Daehra, Lucteal and Coran left the room. Lance was sitting in the bed with Kosmo rubbing his face against his legs. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. He didn't want to leave Lance's side, and possibly have a repeat of what happened last time happen again. Slowly walking over to Lance, he flopped down on the bed with a weary sigh. A hand going to the small of Lance's back "I know I shouldn't have gotten mad... and I shouldn't have snapped over the date. I know you wanted me to be happy, I want that for you too. I'm sorry for not getting it. And not being amazing at making up stories. I guess being out here with them makes it all too real. I don't want to lose you. I love you more than anything... and now you're going somewhere I can't reach you again. I... I don't know what to do anymore. I know we have our jobs, and I know I'm supposed act accordingly. I don't want to throw this all on Shiro and leave, but I want you there for it. You deserve answers. You deserve to look her in the face and have your questions answered... God. I didn't expect we'd come back to this... I haven't even asked you about your therapy..." Keith jumped when Lance dropped back against him. Not laying down, but also not sitting up properly "Coran knew I'd been raped. He saw it on the scans and didn't want to pressure me into talking when I wasn't ready. He knew you knew and were supporting me. And he knew talking too soon wouldn't help... Tor'al was... she's too happy. I couldn't talk freely because she has so many hopes and dreams over Voltron. I could barely talk to her at all, and most of what I did talk about was being a Paladin. So I talked to Coran. I tried to let him. I'm trying to let him in. He doesn't know about my heats. He doesn't know I was pregnant... I don't think so at any rate. I don't think he knows what to do about my body at all. I still feel the urge to shut down when I'm talking to him. To blow it off and laugh, or make some stupid joke, and I'm still waiting for him to laugh at me like I expect everyone to do. But you and Shiro wanted me to let him in. He doesn't always get it... I don't think he's what I need in a therapist, but I really respect the fact that he didn't blurt out to everyone I was raped. I've done that enough. Brought everyone down with the thought. And I didn't not enjoy our date. It's stupid. Especially being in space, but I'm scared of the dark. Not the dark where there's light around, but that thick dark that's like the astral plain. That thick cold dark that stretches on and on, where no one is there. Shiro could connect to Black and see us. Feel us. Hell, he could even try to reach out to us... but when I died, I didn't have that. I didn't become one with Red. In the pod. I was in that black again. I loved seeing how happy you were riding the hoverbike and it was fun... but when we went over those bumps and cliffs, I didn't know if I was ever going to touch the ground again... my head has become a mess. I'm scared of things I don't even know about, and my sense of pain is back... more back than it was before. Probably because I've been through a cycle in the pod. So now what do we do? I need to make sure Annla is alright, and that Daehra and Lucteal won't lose more people. I know there might even be Altean shifters on the planet. There might even be shifters here... it's not like I'm intending on getting myself blown up. I think I need to do this for me too, you know? Let myself see that you're safe and sound, and will be alright without me being by your side all the time. Not that I'm not going to miss you like quiznak. I just need to breathe a bit" Keith let Lance's words hang as he thought about how to reply. It was a lot all at once, and nothing was soothing this burning need to protect Lance from everything in existence. The little voice in the back of his mind had hoped Lance would say "yes" to his ultimatum. It was a crappy and cruel thing to do. Lance stank of pain because of his words, and he'd thrown more at him when he was trying to bring himself out of a panic attack. He was scared. Scared of feeling like he had when Lance had run. Scared of feeling like the had when his lover was in the healing pod. Scared of this thing between breaking if they weren't together. They'd barely had time to find their feet "Keith, you know it won't be forever. I don't think I want to be there longer than a movement if possible. Two if there's some kind of inheritance ceremony..." Lance had kept him waiting two movements while he slept just beyond his reach, and that had been awful. His coping mechanisms and focus had gone to shit now that he realised the difference the love between a lover and a brother. He'd still go to heaven, hell, and everywhere in between to help Shiro out, but Shiro had Curtis now. He needed to respect that and work on finding his own balance with Lance. He just didn't know how to do that yet. He wasn't over his trauma. He wasn't over Lance losing a finger, and nearly his life. Not like Lance was. No. He wasn't. But he wanted more than just sitting in bed all day. If Keith was in his position, he'd be exactly the same. Still, knowing didn't mean he knew how to loosen the reins either. He didn't want to smother Lance, but he did. He didn't want to keep Lance by his side all the time, but he did. He didn't want to stop Lance from living his life and achieving his dreams... but... he did if he wasn't part of them. Since Lance had nearly died on the table, some primal part of him had been activated. Like a flicked switch. Instincts he could only attribute to being a "Galra" thing seemed to have come to life. Keith didn't know that what he was feeling was fear manifesting its self in the million ways it could. His constant fussing feeding the little voices that dreamed up all the "worst case" scenarios. Lance had got to the same end point as him, before he'd managed to. He needed Lance to be safe and breathing, without him smothering him. He needed to straighten his own head out. And he couldn't do that if he kept giving into instinct after instinct. Lance had survived well enough before he came searching for Guile. It hadn't been great, but he was smart. Plus Daehra and Lucteal knew what a panic attack was now. The could probably feel one coming before Lance could. So maybe they'd be able to feel if anyone was harbouring ill will towards Lance? Though, their abilities hadn't picked up on Kre'el and Lasandi's deceptions... Keith shook his head. There was too much in his mind. He'd never escape the spiral if he didn't make the effort to see past the bad. He'd come so far since finding Shiro again. He was nearly 25. He was a grown arse man who could survive his boyfriend not being there for a movement or two. Yep. He totally could... "I get it, babe. I'm going to miss you so fucking much" Rolling over, Lance leaned in to kiss him "I'm going to miss you too, but this isn't forever. I know it sucks after last nights date, but if it was a member of your team, you'd want to be there, right?" "I want to be there for them as it is... but it's better you go. You're better with people than I am... and maybe they'll make you give a speech or something" Lance shook his head, his lips still close to Keith's "They wouldn't dare. I don't want to like leave you, you know that. And I'm just as scared about being apart, but I need to do this. I need to... I need to think. I'll still call you, and Coran, plus I'm going to be on a whole planet of empaths, with Kosmo. If worst comes to worst, I'll get Coran to open a wormhole and leave the others there... or they might even decide to stay there... basically, none of us know what's going to happen. I know we're supposed to be getting ready now, but I want to take a nap with my boyfriend. Can we take a nap?" "Yeah, babe. I've missed cuddling you" "I know it's hard..." "It's hard, yet you keep trying. It only makes me love you more, you idiot" Lance gave a small yawn as he spoke "And they saaaay romance is dead. Get over here Casanova"

[thebreakdownisthebecoming]

what do you call her anyway?

(Feeling guilty I haven’t written since my initial post but I caught myself thinking last night and remembered enough that I told myself to write it down.)

Today I had a phone interview for a job. A screening really. And I’ve had just a handful in the past three months. And here’s the thing, I really am not happy with the environment in my current job. The job itself is ok, not forever but ok, but it’s the people and the culture and the lack of support and initiative. And I don’t think it’s going to change, like 98% sure. So my choices are... stay (in a place that likely will continue operating as is does with it’s current culture and low enrollment which poses all kinds of problems and creates tension ALSO with a staff that while they mean well, doesn’t always carry the weight OR a senior staff that makes me feel alienated for working hard) or I have to start over again (find a new job, learn a whole new group of people, potentially move, etc.)

I do not like either option. A lot.

And so I try to think, “You’ve never liked any job or any coworkers... you did this before and it took you almost 8 years to rebuild and get a decent job with your own place and what if you set your life back all over again... so just stay. See something through. It’s hard but so is starting over, so stay with what you know.” That last sentence. It’s like poison. Because really what its doing is invalidating my pain, my mental health/exhaustion, my frustration, my gut feelings... I know if I stay things won’t change in any considerable way (and I’m talking about the relationships I have with the people I work with directly versus the enrollment/recruitment/program logistics which have also led to so much stress) but yet I’m still trying to convince myself that maybe if I stay... it’s almost like I can’t feel much worse and I know what to expect so just... do what you know because it’s enough to get by.

Then the other voices start to kick in. There’s “you’re going to have such a hard time getting hired because people see director on your resume but will be mystified how you got that because you’re so unsure and unrefined but their hands will be tied to some degree because they have to honor your title to some degree.” There’s “you know what to expect, you’re not going to fit in somewhere else where people are polished and professional, you belong right where you are at this place of misfits.” To “you really are going to move away now, what if something happens to mom and dad?” All my old friends... doubt, self deprecation, body image, fear... they pushed any real relationships/friendships out of my life so that they could be the last ones standing and tah dah, here they are. Loud and proud.

So as this crowded “discussion” is playing out in my head last night, a voice that seldom makes any noise decided to make an appearance. And here’s the thing about her... she’s right but she’s uncomfortable, and she’s so rarely heard from that she speaks at a whisper and she is so easy to drown out. But she started to say, “You’re scared. Scared to let go. Scared to start over. Scared of what happens if it doesn’t work wherever you go next. Scared to miss something here. Scared to be alone. Scared to change your routine (even if you do also hate it.) Scared to work with new people. Scared to learn new things. You’re scared. BUT there’s a chance that the hurt and discomfort about those scary things might pass someday... the hurt and discomfort if you stay where you are now... that’s almost guaranteed to stay. Can you take that?”

And I want to say... “it’s then that I started to realize...” although I don’t think it’s a fully formed realization yet BUT what flashed in my brain was, “Maybe what you’re really scared of is the changes that you’d have to make to yourself in all of this.”

Wow.  And ouch.

I guess what I mean is, I can learn to live in a new apartment/house- after all it’s just new rooms and whatever but the keeping yourself alive part is the same. I can learn how to do a new job, I’m smart. I can learn to work with new people, because that’s just being an adult and sucking it up (and while I might not always be the most polished I do know how to be a professional). But what’s scary is, I HAVE TO CHANGE. It can be any office on any campus in any city and any apartment they’re all interchangeable. I am what’s changing and needs to change. To get IT- to get... a new work life (with hopefully meaningful work that is supported), a living space that feels comfortable, a less angry/sad demeanor, just something different... I’m going to have to face myself. I’m going to have to do some things that are really uncomfortable. I’m going to have to be really honest with myself. And in the end, I’m going to have to make some changes. Me. No one else can do it. I can’t pawn it off. I can’t play the victim and say, “well its depression and anxiety and exhaustion and headaches and pain and I’m so overwhelmed and think it through for me and just tell me what I should do.” Maybe I’ve been hoping for that, and let’s say in a perfect world I did make a change like that... that’s not MY change, it didn’t come from me. And I’m smart enough to know it doesn’t work like that. (Also, what does that say about me that I would sign myself away like that?) 

What I want is comfort. To turn down the sadness, the anger, the anxiety... to turn down the urgency and volume of everything in me. But I think I’m starting to see that to do that, comfort isn’t going to yield any long term results. I desperately want to feel better NOW and so the familiar, the known seems like the obvious choice but as I said up there ^, I can see the next five years being just as painful and frustrating if that’s what I do. 

So, do you choose a different form of discomfort and do that for a little while, if it means more comfort later down the road (maybe?) I don’t know. I wish that whispering voice was louder, that she was so strong she blocked out everything else or pushed me in a direction...

What do you call her anyway?

[shift-shaping]

ok, you know how much I love the dancer verse (I hope it will not end in tears though, lol). A prompt, if you want: Something that shatters or breaks, coming to an agreement after an argument.

Glimpses: What’s Wrong

@dadrunkwriting​

Rating: M

Genre: Romance

Verse: Revolutionary

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Age gap, mention of sex work

The audience would never know what happened the night before. She moved like a wild animal, sweat glistening on her forehead as she dominated the eyes of everyone in the room. Flashing lights caught on the gleaming silver of her lingerie, reflecting off her metal hairpins. Somehow the music felt louder, pulsed in her veins, and even when she stood nearly-naked on the stage there was no doubt she had full control.

She leaned back against the pole, a slight smirk on her face as she slipped down and bent backward before collapsing into the stage. The crowd cheered her on in a deep, united baritone and if she let it surround her she would forget entirely what came before.

But she couldn’t forget. Still it lurked in her mind, tensing her heart when there was a lull. Despite all of her glory on the stage, she couldn’t ignore the pain of loss. She felt like she’d lost an arm.

Her heels clicked on the ancient hardwood as she returned to the dressing room, the congratulations of her fellow dancers sounding miles away. She sat down in her seat and methodically took wads of cash out of her clothes. The mirror showed a striking woman of power and confidence, a dominatrix of the stage and a queen in silver underwear. 

The green LED light on her phone blinked and she let out a shaky breath as she picked it up. Just a spam email. For a moment she closed her eyes, putting it back on her makeup counter and letting the atmosphere sink in.

A gentle, playful hand stroked her shoulders and she turned, raising an eyebrow. Behind her stood a tall Rivaini woman in a tight white dress. “Nice job out there, for a string bean.” She grinned at Eirwen and slid into the seat next to her, eyes flashing at the pile of cash on her coworker’s counter. “Maker’s Balls, you really dominated! Look at that.” She shook her head, admiration obvious. “You know what this means?” Eirwen raised an eyebrow. “You have to buy us both a very expensive dinner.”

Eirwen snorted and shook her head. “I think I need it to get to Denerim.” 

“No, gross.” The other dancer gave the idea a dismissive gesture and leaned back, putting her black boots up on her own table. “If you’re going to go anywhere, go to Starkhaven. Or maybe Ostwick.” She frowned, looking at Eirwen quizzically. “Why would you ever want to go to Denerim?”

“It’s a long, dumb story.” Eirwen pursed her lips and started to count out her cash. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“Eir!” The woman said suddenly, and Eirwen looked up, surprised. “How dare you!”

“What?”

“We’re friends. Remember that time I held your hair while you threw up in the bathroom?”

“No, but I remember doing that for you.”

“Exactly! True friendship.” She stood up, only confusing Eirwen more, and then, without warning sat on her. “I won’t get up until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Fuck! Maker’s breath, get your gigantic ass off me!” She struggled, trying to push the other woman off, but she just planted her feet and stayed where she was. 

“Nope.” She looked down at Eirwen with a playful smirk. “Otherwise you won’t tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Ugh, this is abuse.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She turned, perching on Eirwen’s right thigh.

“Ow… ngh, that hurts, Bela.”

“Too bad. Tell me.”

“I don’t think friendship is supposed to work like this,” Eirwen grunted before sighed and flopping back against her chair. “Whatever Bela, I’m fine. Really. Look how much money I have! I’m fine.”

“Are you having problems with your sugar daddy?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eirwen blushed and rolled her eyes. “He isn’t, and no.”

“You’re blushing, though.”

“How can you even tell in this light?” Eirwen groaned, then sighed and met her friend’s eyes. “It’s not fun or gossip-y. It just sucks.” Bela shruggeded and Eirwen went on. “Someone I love very much passed away two nights ago. She was sort of my grandmother, but not technically.”

“Was it… something tragic?”

“No, she died in her sleep. She was pretty old, and she lived well, but… it still just sucks.” Eirwen shook her head and closed her eyes. “But it’s fine, really. It happens to everyone.”

Bela put her hand on the back of Eirwen’s head and gently tilted her up to meet her eyes. “Oh, Eir… Just because it happens to everyone doesn’t mean it has to be fine right away. That does suck, and if you need to take time off or anything you should.”

“No thanks.” She grimaced and shifted under her friend’s weight. “Not working will just make it worse. I don’t like to think about it.”

They didn’t get to talk much more; Bela’s turn was up soon, and Eirwen had one more ‘encore’ before they could all head home. After that it was late, nearly 2:30 in the morning, and more than anything Eirwen just wanted to shower and sleep. She collected her earnings and paid back the house before packing her things from her makeup table. There was a knock at the door, and she answered it with a curious expression. 

One of the bouncers stood on the other side, holding a familiar-looking bouquet of flowers. Eirwen flushed and took them, knowing immediately who they were from. “Your fan said you forgot those,” the bouncer said, looking confused. “Is he annoying you?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “He’s a friend of mine, and I really did forget them. Is he still out there?”

“I think so. Want me to stop him?”

“Sure. I’ll get my things and meet him outside.”

She took her bag and put on her coat, then walked out into the chilly autumn night to meet with Solas. At first she didn’t see him, and worried he’d already left as she walked along the side of the club and hugged the flowers close to her chest. Her ears pricked at the sound of an oncoming car, and she instinctively grasped the pepper spray in her pocket. 

The car slowed, and when she saw it was Solas’s she immediately relaxed. “I see you found the flowers,” he said lightly, leaning over the passenger seat toward her. 

“Yes, Maker, I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, hugging them tightly. “I feel awful. I really, really did not mean to forget them. This means so much to me, honestly.” She stepped up to the window, frowning deeply.

Solas smiled and shook his head. “I understand entirely, lethallan. You lost someone close to you; I can’t possibly blame you for being distracted.”

Her ears drooped and she swallowed hard, glancing away for a moment. “Thank you for putting them in water… the vase is really lovely.”

“This way they’ll live when you forget them again.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, smiling despite herself. “But, uh, yeah. Thank you. Again.”

“Would you like to find somewhere to eat, Eirwen?” He looked calm, his features relaxed and his smile slight. The way the light reflected off his face made his eyes look bright and lively. “That diner nearby should be open.”

“Are you hungry?” She could smell the flowers, and the fresh scent briefly overwhelmed her senses. She blinked slowly, then shifted her weight and considered his offer.

“A bit. But are you not?” He nodded to her outfit and she smirked. “Your dancing was particularly breathtaking tonight.”

“So, what? You still can’t breathe?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed softly and shook his head, looking up at her with that smirk and those slightly narrowed eyes that made her heart flutter. She fought the urge to pull away and stared at him, her gaze level with his and the flowers held close to her chest. “You did not answer my question, da’len.”

She swallowed hard. “What… what question?”

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

“I -yes!” Immediately she stepped back, shaking her head, feigning discomfort with him. “Maker, you’re so pushy.”

He chuckled softly and got out to open her door, putting a gentle hand on her back. His touch was like an electric spark on her spine, and she straightened suddenly, glancing up at him. He said nothing and lead her inside before getting back in himself. For the brief few moments that she sat alone in the car her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. This was no different from any other outing they had, from any other random night out together.

He sat down and started the car. “Look, I… I really am sorry about leaving so suddenly before. It was… rude, and unprofessional.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on before he could interject. “I’m dedicated to this. To our dancing, and to this competition. I’m not going to give up no matter what happens, I promise.”

Solas put the car in reverse and turned around in his seat as he started backing out. “Well… I am glad for that, of course, but you should not stress yourself over it.” He looked at her, worry creasing his brows. “Will there be a service?”

“Yes, but… I don’t think I’ll go.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d rather go with you to the competition.”

“You… think the two will overlap?”

She nodded, pursing her lips and turning to look out the window. “Most likely.”

“Eirwen,” he said, his voice suddenly harder. “You cannot skip the funeral.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll miss much. I kind of get the picture, of how it works.” She shrugged and fiddled with her necklace.  “There’s a dead person, you talk about how great they were, and a Sister says some prayers. Then they put the dead person in the ground and you make awkward small talk until it’s socially acceptable to go home.”

“It was blatantly obvious before that you care about this person.” He pulled out of the parking lot and on to the main road, shaking his head. “I refuse to be any part of the reason you do not go.”

“Okay, well, how about I can’t afford it? The funeral sure as shit won’t be in Orlais.”

“You cannot afford it?” He gave her a dry, sideways glance. “You would if you didn’t spend your paycheck on liquor.”

She laughed bitterly. “I don’t get a paycheck; creepy dudes just shove cash into my underwear.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Eirwen groaned and threw up her hands. “Can’t it be enough that I just don’t want to go?”

“Do you really think I’m creepy?” He asked, watching the road with a slight frown.

With a heavy sigh, Eirwen fidgeted in her seat and turned to face him, leaning her cheek into the seat behind her. “If I did, I wouldn’t have gotten into your car.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He stopped at a red light, then relaxed in his seat and looked at her again. “Regardless, I refuse to be a reason why you won’t go.”

“You’re not. The dancing is.”

“But you’re dancing with me, Eirwen.”

“Okay, but like… I’m not doing it because of you.”

“I know that, but I simply- I do not understand why you won’t go. I can give you the money if necessary, that isn’t a problem.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly?” Her voice arched in exasperation and the light changed. He drove forward, eyes narrowing at her tone. “It doesn’t affect you at all. It’s not your problem, and it’s not really your business either.”

“Except that it worries me. I know you don’t have a lot of family, and I would hate for you to regret missing out on the chance to say goodbye.” He sighed and visibly forced himself to relax. “I truly do not mean to intrude, and of course it is your decision, but I do not want there to be any obstacle that I could prevent.” He paused, waiting for a response, but she said nothing. He glanced sideways to see her staring out the window, her ears drooping. “Is money really the problem?”

She dropped her head back against the seat, then reached up to fidget with her hair. “There will be… people there. People I don’t want to see.”

“Like… whom?”

“People that… I don’t know.” She finally looked at him, and on the silent streets he pulled up to a stop sign and met her gaze in the dark. “Would you want to explain to the people you grew up with that you take your clothes off for money?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “That is not all you do. I know you take more pride in your work than that.”

“Around most people, yes. But… it’s different there. I’d feel like… like I’m not living up to what she wanted for me.” Her voice fell and she swallowed hard, then said nothing for a long time. Solas let her have her silence, frowning at the road before them as he turned into the shopping center with the diner they’d visited so many times. When he glanced at her again she was chewing on one of her fingernails, jaw set and eyes cast down at the glove box.

He parked and turned off the engine, then sat back in the seat and watched her. When he spoke, he kept his voice just as low as hers had been, one hand on the wheel, tone measured and gentle. “If these are people who you have not spoken to in years, why does it matter what they think of you?” His eyes flicked to the side, then back to her, and he took a shaky breath before going on. “You love this woman, you deserve to pay your respects to her as much as anyone else.”

“She was-” Eirwen started, then stopped again and shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m bothering you with this.” She relaxed suddenly and forced a toothless smile, looking at him. “I’m sorry. It’s not- you don’t need to hear about it.”

“Eirwen…”

“Really. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. Not… like that.”

“I do,” he said, offended. “Of course I do. I should think, at the very least, that we are friends.”

“We are friends, but it’s still not- you’re not that- you have bigger things to worry about.”

“Is that what you think?” He asked, and she gave him a confused look. “That I only care about you as far as it affects our dancing?”

“No, it’s not. I don’t think that.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, frustration lacing her tone. “But we aren’t normal friends, are we? You pay me to take off my clothes for you. You pay me to spend time with you. Why would I think you want anything else from me besides what affects our dancing?”

He swallowed hard, his words stolen out of his mouth. He shook his head slightly and let his hand drop from the steering wheel. She realized she’d said something wrong, that she’d hurt him by finally bringing up a truth neither wanted to confront. She turned her gaze and looked down at her hands. 

“I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. You are right.” He exhaled slowly. “I have not… I have not been as respectful to you as I should have.”

“That’s not true. That’s not true at all.”

“It is true. I am… so sorry.” His breathing quickened and she heard the change in his voice, how it fell to a soft, deeply regretful whisper. “I am so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. You are wonderful to me, you always have been.”

“That is not true, though.” He cleared his throat, struggling to keep the pain from his voice. “I mistreated you. I want to be here for you, but I have treated this relationship as a means to an end. I do not feel that way, Eirwen, you are… so much more to me than that.” 

Her heart raced and she frowned, trying to see his expression in the dark. “You have been extremely kind to me. I know you care about me, I don’t… I don’t want you to feel bad about any of this.”

“It is not your fault, Eirwen. You deserve better, and I should have given you that.” 

She opened her mouth to protest when a sudden crash tore their attention toward the diner. Someone had thrown a rock into the window, shattering the glass and setting off a loud alarm. They watched, confused, as a group of teenagers laughed and sprinted away from the scene. The diner’s manager, a wide dwarf with a short black beard, ran outside and shouted at them, gesturing broadly and angrily.

Eirwen smirked, hardly fazed by the alarming violence. Solas looked a bit more shaken, blinking at the sight as the manager examined the damage. “Looks like they could use some business,” she observed, and Solas nodded absently. “It’s a good thing I’m hungry now.”

He frowned, having difficulty tearing his eyes off the broken window. “Uh… yes, I suppose so.”

She grabbed his arm, making him jump and look at her. “Come on. I think we’ll both feel better after we get something to eat.”

“We’re… going inside?”

She looked back in the direction the vandals went and shrugged. “Well, it’s not like they’re coming back.” Smirking, determined to use this opportunity to change the subject, she gave his arm a tug. “But if they do, I’ll make sure to protect you.”

That made him smile, and he gave her a sideways glance. “Is that so?” He tensed his arm under her hold, sending a blush over her cheeks. 

“Of course. I’m very intimidating.”

He chuckled and shook his head, reaching behind him to open the door. “Very.” 

They both headed outside. As soon as she rejoined him she took his arm again, smiling up at him. For a moment he looked about to pull away, but he stopped. She felt him relax in her hold, though still she felt tension. This was not a solution, not yet; it was a start. 

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[thebeckychronicles]

A Letter to Jenni When it Gets Tough and Painful and You Don’t Want to Complain

This is for you. You who grin and bear it because you have this weird idea that you are not allowed to complain even when you’re in the worst pain you’ve ever experienced in your 20 years.

Sometimes you really can’t find the good in a situation. Sometimes all the situation is, is suck and pain and hurt and that’s okay. It’s part of the process. When this whole thing started one of the main things you thought about was not making it harder on your family than it needed to be. You didn’t want to add more to the burden cancer inherently brings.

Right now as your muscles spasm and your stomach rolls painfully you think of your mom and how she has dedicated all her time to your well-being. Monitoring your weight, your pain, your medications. Being the first one to hear about my scary health scares from your ridiculous port that refused to treat you well to your sudden fatigue and breathlessness to an allergic reaction that left you cramped up for hours. You think about how her whole schedule has revolved around you, what you need, your appointments, making sure you eat something. You think of your dad and how because your mother has concentrated all her efforts in making sure you’re working towards remission, he’s shown his dedication to you regaining your health through sweat, early mornings and late evenings spent working. You think about the times your family struggled with two incomes and somehow your dad has managed to provide everything you need, which is a lot, with his one. You think of your sister, who has put her plans on hold while you go through treatment. You think of your sister and how much emotional labor you’ve asked of her and the generosity she’s shown you throughout this ordeal. You think of the oldest of your brothers and think about how you haven’t really talked to him much lately, stuck in your room as you are most of the time. You think of your younger brothers and how this year has shifted the focus from them to you. It’s all about you. You think about how much your family has done to support you since before your diagnosis when you initially started feeling sick.

These things and more are what you think of as you try to find a comfortable position to sleep in. You can’t remember the last time you had a restful night of sleep.

You think of all these things and how you seem to think that not giving voice to your frustrations and hurts will make it easier for your family to see you go through this.

I’m telling you to forget that.

Sometimes you’re gonna complain about the pain and you’re gonna say it’s not fair because it does hurt and because it’s not fair. And you’re going to feel bad about complaining. Especially to your family, especially knowing it could be worse. Especially to your family because they already have to see you so sick, do you really need to confirm the terrible assault on your body that you’re feeling?

Complain if you want to, there’s nothing gracious about pain and suffering and anyone who tells you otherwise can go fuck themselves. Complain because there’s no prize to be won if you don’t, only bullshit admiration, and admiration does nothing to put a dent in chemo side effects. Complaining on the other hand can be therapeutic. Being an inspiration or an example to others needs to be the least of your concerns. You do what you need to make this easier; you do what you need to survive this because sometimes you really do think saving you with chemo is in actuality killing you more brutally than the cancer ever could. (Again, if you’ve never gone through this process- and hey even if you have- you have no room to judge.) Do what you need to survive this hurdle because it fucking sucks- and you’re allowed to say that. Just remember that yes it sucks, yes it hurts, but it’s part of the process and the process will eventually end.

Sometimes you can’t help your shitty disposition. You can’t stop thinking about how shitty it all is, especially when you’re in pain and discomfort. That’s okay. I’m not telling you to stay positive. Because being positive 100% of the time is a lot of fucking work and I’ll be honest sometimes it really doesn’t help. (Fight me.) Sometimes I don’t want a positive attitude that will see me through the end of this experience, sometimes I need something that will get me to the end of the fucking day. I’m telling you to keep some perspective. That doesn’t mean you can’t complain- if you try hard enough you’ll always find someone who’s in a worse position than you. I’m telling you keep some perspective- today is all there is. Today is today. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow will be worse. Point is you don’t know. So why grieve or celebrate something that hasn’t happened yet? Experience today for all it’s great and terrible parts, because today is all there is. Take each day one at a time. Keep perspective. The perspective being that today is all there is; and you’re allowed to complain when it sucks and you sure as hell should revel when its good.

Today, go ahead and wallow in your pain and self-doubt. Be angry and frustrated at your situation if that’s what you need right now.  Tomorrow you can forgive yourself for being human and having ungracious and weak moments.