#bonnie is a much more patient woman than i am though. also. she's a woman

[zorawitch]

i'm loving jodie foster in nyad for various reasons but my favorite bit is that her character, a 59 year old butch, dresses exactly like me in the summer, which is to say that we're both dykes in board shorts and very long shirts

[karlachismylife]

Thots on how they would react if you got sick?

(totally not self indulgent right now)

Oh no, my lovely spouse is sick :( Get well soon, lovie, and here are some little speedrun headcanons for you ahead of everything, as a treatment!! Beware, there are some NSFW parts under the cut :) So MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT I swear I get so upset every time I have to block some ageless blog. If it's so hard to put your age in the bio, just DO NOT TOUCH THE POST!! I'd rather keep you around to read my SFW pieces than block you altogether.

Okay sorry for yelling, here we go

CW: gn!sick!reader, reader is somewhat being stubborn about getting treatment at some points, sickness unspecified, but I wrote with something cold-adjacent in mind since we're in the cold season, a bit of controlling behavior from Ghost and Price.

Soap is Mister Indulgence. Any cravings you get, be it three kilograms of crisps for breakfast or his Mam's soup you suddenly want to taste at 2 am, he's getting his ass out of bed and runs to the store or puts on an apron to make the soup. You want some tea with sugar and lemon? How much teaspoons of sugar? What, you tried it and turned out you wanted a teaspoon less? No worries, he'll make it again. You wanna binge your favourite show? Listen to "your" song fifty times in a row? Cuddle and nap on his hot chest for eight hours? Whatever you want, bonnie, his Maw always said that good mood is the most important step in getting better, so Johnny would rather die than not keep you satisfied during sick time.

He might not be the most well-versed in medical stuff, but he definitely uses his Mam's knowledge (and she is one wise woman, I tell you) and whatever experience he has himself to get you both real treatment and some homemade remedies. Swears he doesn't get sick (ever, bonnie!) when you try to shoo him away worried he'll catch whatever you have.

Drops sick the very next day you finally are all good again (and behaves as if he's actually dying, even though he has like three times lighter symptoms than you cuz that man has an immune system of a beast).

Ghost is mean about it, cruel and ruthless. At least that's what you tell him when he wakes you up to make you drink some medicine or, even worse, change you out of your sweaty pjs, help you bathe and (this one is almost breakup-worthy betrayal) take you to a doctor. No amount of pleading, whining and pouting can deter him from making sure you're getting appropriate treatment.

Truth be told, he's probably blaming himself, because under his care you should've never gotten sick in the first place. This means he's probably checking your wardrobe and adding some warmer clothes and shoes (no more wearing old sneakers when it's already rain season!) to it, probably inspecting all the food you've eaten recently in case it was bad, proofing all the windows against drafts... and somehow he still finds time to be around you all the time, holding you in your fever-induced sleep, changing cold wet towels on your forehead and caring for you.

Might or might not catch the sickness from you, which reveals that he's an even worse patient than you, constantly grumpy, wrapped in three blankets and trying to put an indifferent face, but so, so pathetic when the fever gets actually high. He will be good if you promise to hold him in your lap and stroke his hair with cold fingers.

Gaz isn't as indulgent as Soap, but he gives you a lot of autonomy and trusts that you know best what treatment helps you. So if you say you don't feel like you need to call a doctor, he won't force you; he'll buy the medicine you tell him to buy, and if he thinks it's not the best choice, he'll just suggest an alternative, leaving the final decision up to you. Also has some homemade remedies ready to go if you're willing to try them, but leans heavily towards scientifically proven treatments.

He definitely tries to keep you if not active (no hikes or something, but maybe little walks around the apartment once the worst wave passes) then at least entertained, and not in "200 episodes of a dumb sitcom watched alone" way. Of course, if that's what you're feeling, get your sitcom fill, angel (he's not one to judge, he is keeping up with like a hundred series somehow), but if you're up to play some games, Kyle is more than happy to. Puzzles, card games, board games - maybe not so much computer games, since he wants you to be mindful of your eyes health, but a little bit? Sure. If you don't wanna play games, he still wants to keep you company so that you don't feel like you're missing out on life alone in your bed.

Probably the one who is the least likely to catch your sickness, because he ACTUALLY never gets sick, that pretty boy possesses some magic, I'm telling ya. Buf if he somehow does, he's the best patient who doesn't even need your help (but will accept it since he doesn't want you to feel guilty and it's just nice). For the three days that he's sick before he's healthier than ever.

Price is also very insistent on you getting proper treatment, but he doesn't go about it in Ghost's stern manner - no, he's a sly, smart dog, he's sweettalking you into thinking half of it is your own idea and he's just there to provide. If he needs to, he plays up his worried behavior and voila, you're already taking your medicine and days off from studies or work, simply because you don't want to worry your John's bleeding heart. Drops casually something like "good thing doc's office is on the way to the base, I can drop you off before finishing that bloody report they're wanting my head for and then pick you up, lovie" - and when you note that you actually don't feel like your sickness is doctor visit worthy, he sighs and tells you that he'll stay with you then. Of course now you have to agree, you can't let him get in trouble with the report simply because you didn't want to go to the doctor!

In all the other aspects he is absolutely doting and spoiling. Will casually look through fifteen stores until he finds the exact type of natural juice gummies you once mentioned your parents got you when you were sick. Absolutely no smoking around you or even in the apartment - and he also makes sure he doesn't smell too much of tobacco before coming into your room. Will baby you in whatever way you want (yes, he will read you your book aloud) or simply stay at your side to assist you with different things if you're not into that. But god forbid you try to get back to work or studying before John Price deems you recovered enough...

Probably catches the sickness, but pretends he didn't until it's too obvious to deny. Will do all the things he reprimanded you for: try to work, keep smoking, avoid doctor etc.

Hyena!141 bonus: they absolutely cuddle you in their hyena form and do not shift into humans when you need them to fetch something like a pillow or more paper tissues. They're your fluffy cuddle buddies that are there to grumble and purr for you soothingly, keep the chills away and lick your forehead, nape and wrists to cool the fever down. Shove their snouts in different places on your body to check the temperature (no thermometer needed!) and tickle you, give you paw massages if your muscles ache and suddenly get on their best behavior (yes, even Soap). Furry menaces who? Not them, they're the sweetest boys!

NSFW under the cut, once again, minors and ageless blogs DNI or I'll block you (and cry about it!)

CW: gn!reader, oral sex, fingering, brat tamer Ghost (so it's consensual in case I didn't make it clear enough), penetrative sex with Gaz (bottom!gn!reader).

Soap is also number one advocate of "sex is proper treatment", so if you're not feeling too bad and have some energy to spare, he'll gladly eat you out and unleash his oral fixation on you. As treatment, of course. Also maybe because you're so hot that you're practically burning his tongue and it feels as if he dipped his face into the sweetest, freshly-baked pie, when you squeeze his mug between your overheating thighs. He'll do more if that's what you want, but if all you want is to come on his face, he'll lick, suck and rub as much as you need - yes, he spilled in his sweatpants just from pleasuring you and grinding against the sheets, but can you really blame him for enjoying a warm meal a little too much? Will probably compare your "sick" taste to your "healthy" one. No, he does not know what the word "shame" means.

Ghost is reluctant to have sex when you're sick, because, well... you're sick, you shouldn't exhaust your body, because it needs all the strength to fight whatever it is you caught. But once you start getting better (and as a result much, much brattier, since now you have the energy to not just whine and pout, but also to be a little defiant shit), he is absolutely using his fingers to reward or punish you for complying or resisting the treatment. Are you being good, taking your medicine, measuring your body temperature and doing whatever else doctor told you to? Good, you deserve to cum on his fingers, lovie, just lean back and let him do all the work. What's that, you don't wanna drink your medicine, because it tastes bad, and you hid the thermometer? Well, love, he hopes you don't mind getting your temperature checked a little more old-fashioned way. And if you don't like your medicine, maybe having his fingers in your mouth, muffling all your protests, will change your mind. After all, that's what you wanted to achieve by being a brat, didn't you?

Gaz is already the king of gentle sex, but if you ask him to indulge you while you're sick, he'll be as tender as only molten marshmallow fluff can be. Caressing your feverish skin with his soft palms, making sure to avoid possibly hurting joints or muscles, going down on you with his sweet, honeyed mouth before even trying anything else. Can actually give you a perfect massage (even the normal kind) and add some lightweight petting and fingering to it. If you want to have penetrative sex though, he finds the best position (probably spooning, his arm cradling your head so it doesn't spin or hurt, and your body resting without any extreme stretches or strains) and takes you slowly and carefully. Doesn't let you worry about his orgasm at all, but if you feel like cockwarming him, he won't say no, that's for sure :) let him soak in some of that heat directly from you, angel, eh?

Price will probably need the most persuasion to engage with you sexually during your sick time, he is worrying about you too much, so the best you can get is probably his fingers and mouth closer to you already getting fully healthy again. He's just scared he'll go too rough on you regardless of how careful he's trying to be, lovie. But if he ends up catching you masturbating (and failing probably, since you're still too weak for such activities), he'll have no choice but to help you finish, careful tongue strokes and finger movements along with soft grumbling about him "leaving you just for five minutes, and you're already up to no good, love!" Don't let him fool you, he's the happiest man, because he both gets to pleasure his partner and because this means you're getting better.

[klausysworld]

Love…

Love is a dangerous game.

Love is a fickle thing.

Love is unpredictable.

Love is merciless.

Love can be both feared and desired.

Love can make a woman do such awful things.

Love can drive a woman mad.

It drove me mad. It made me do awful things. It made people scared and it made people excited. It made me merciless, unpredictable and dangerous but my love was never fickle and it never will be.

Not when it came down to Niklaus Mikaelson.

______________________________________________________________

It started off way before he arrived in town.

I grew up in Mystic Falls, one of the only witches in town alongside the Bennett family. When I was little, Sheila Bennet-Grams would always offer to babysit me from my mother. When I would play there with Bonnie my emotions would always get the better of me, objects would begin to float or catch fire. Grams would always pick me up and calm me down while telling me how powerful I would become.

She never mentioned magic to Bonnie, and I promised not to either even though we were so close. However my magic was something I had always been aware of and Grams said that finding control over it would be better than pretending it didn't exist.

Once I got a little older, she began to teach me things on other supernaturals. Starting with the Lockwood heritage and the basics of werewolves and then we went deeper, to Eenadu and how/why she created the species. Then a while later it was vampires. The basics first again and then the Originals, and Esther.

That was when I first heard of him; Klaus.

Grams spoke his name with such distaste but it stirred something inside me. She only told me the bast things, put a sinister spin on everything about them. So I had to do some digging myself.

He was just so damaged.

He was so broken, but so fixable.

He was just so loveable.

I knew he needed the doppelgänger so I convinced Bonnie that we should befriend Elena.

I knew he needed a werewolf so i befriended Matt through Elena which lead to befriending Tyler.

I knew he needed a vampire too but I didn't need to worry about that. I was certain that Katerina Petrova, Katherine Pierce, would pay the town a visit and death would follow her like the plague. She would either be my vampire or make me a vampire that I could give to Klaus.

And she did, just as predicted. So when I was sure that she had done everything for me: triggered Tylers 'curse', turned Caroline and collected the moonstone, I made my move in form of a letter.

It had taken a damn long time to find him. He moves, a lot. However, I too had made contacts over the last few years with other witches across the states and was able to pinpoint him.

And reach out.

..............................................................................................................................

Dear Niklaus Mikaelson,

We have yet to meet though I am certain that when we do you will be pleased. Come to where it all began for I have an opportunity for you to seize.

..........................................................................

It was simple but still cryptic enough to grab his attention. I sent it to him with my magic and patiently waited.

And planned.

Klaus would definitely want to create more hybrids. Which meant some sort of trip as soon as the ritual was over and his wolf was free. I also knew that he and Stefan were friends in the 1920s, courtesy of Gloria who was a witch I had met and remained in contact with who was also in communication with Klaus and helped me find the man.

So I was betting that he would find a way to take Stefan with him to find his hybrids and bring the ripper out of him, which would not be difficult. I remember when he had gone a little mad for human blood earlier in the year. It wouldn't take a lot to push him back over that line.

Now was a nervous when Katherine went missing which meant klaus was in town? Yes. But I was much more excited.

I could feel myself literally buzzing when I stepped into the Salvatore manor house, I could feel the magic rolling off of Alaric! I sat between him and Damon and I could feel my skin burning. Damon kept putting his hand on my knee to stop my legs bouncing, asked if I was on drugs a couple times too but didn't suspect too much. I hadn't revealed to everyone the amount I knew. Though Elijah knew that I was much more than I let on but I kinda wanted him to know.

Of course everyone knew I was a witch but they assumed I was an amateur, Bonnie knew I was better than I made out to be but still didn't know the extents of what I was now capable of. When you've been practicing magic since you were a small child your power ages with you, I knew that I'd only grow stronger. And so far I have.

I just hoped that he couldn't feel my magic as well as I could feel his. That was a silly thought. I knew that he couldn't, I had a spell to mask it.

Time went fast, one second I was sat next to him and the next he was walking out the door and Damon was asking what was wrong with me today. I got out of it and went home to my planning board.

I wondered how long it would take for him to know that it was I who sent him the letter. I wondered how he would react. I also wondered how he would be if I sent him another.

..............................................................................................................................

Dear Niklaus Mikaelson,

I see that you have arrived though not as I may have expected, Either way I hope you appreciate the ingredients that I have collected.

..............................................................................................................................

I sent it via my magic again, I knew that it would lay waiting for him when he returned from the decade dance. It meant I was far too excited the entire time. Though I did my best to keep my mouth shut around Alaric Klaus himself.

Even when he revealed his true identity I had to bite back my smile, instead I allowed him to pin me, toss me and harm me until he though he'd won. I couldn't reveal my powers, the truth behind my innocent mask. I needed him to think I was weak but still interesting enough.

Bonnie ended up 'sacrificing' herself. To be completely honest it made me mad. Of all the people he could have hurt he had to choose her. I wouldn't have cared if it was any one else but Bonnie was the only true friend I had made, she wasn't here for me to use or bargain with. I liked her and felt my skin burn with rage.

So I made a little spell to cause Klaus an extensive amount of pain .

I got over it of course but I needed him to understand my feelings. It's the only way we could work.

I was pissed off that he hadn't used my chosen ingredients. Damon saved Tyler and Caroline and Bonnie was saving Elena.

Still, I watched his ritual anyway from a distance, my eyes lighting up as I watched his bones snap and his wolf rush to the front of his mind. Elijah's eyes locked on mine for a split second, a slight nod from us both before he took his brother to a place in the woods.

After that I had to babysit Damon while he whined and shook in pain. When his fevers got too bad I would place a cooling spell over his body and transfer some of his pain to myself. Despite not being Damons biggest fan, he was the one I got along most with out of the little group that had formed. He had a sense of humour and wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Damon was no liar like most of the others and I admired that. Still, I did not trust him exactly but I didn't mind his company.

Eventually Katerina arrived, she did not look eager to see me however she delivered the cure as expected and revealed what I had assumed. Klaus had taken Stefan.

Unfortunately for Klaus, since finding him the first time, I was able to play a tracking spell on his soul. If I closed my eyes and chanted the right words I was able to find exactly where he was in the moment I did so. Which meant he received more letters.

They were always short and suggestive, never revealing quite how much I knew but just hinting at it. I knew it would annoy him, he would see it as child’s play but that's what made it all so amusing when I would whisper my spells and watch his jaw clench as he attempted to tear up the paper only for it to magically bind back together in mockery of his frustration.

It was when he arrived in Chicago that Gloria had me on the phone.

"I warn you child, he's been asking me to find out who's sending the notes. I wouldn't ever tell on you dear but you know how he becomes. Don't play with fire unless you plan to get burnt" she told me, her tone worried

"Thank you Gloria but you've always known I enjoy the burn. Even if he knows, I can contain him. I've been preparing." I murmur, as my fingers trace over the sketch of the cage I plan to create for him should it ever be necessary.

"Do be careful" she whispered, "They don't call him a beast for fun"

"I know" I hum "It's going to be wonderful" I stated, my mind picturng those golden eyes of his.

Gloria had to hang up when she heard Rebekah's voice nearing but messaged me an update later that day. Unfortunately I felt as her life was taken, by Katerina of all people though I couldn't be too surprised. Her obsession with Stefan never failed to shine through.

Not that I could judge.

Plus it worked in my favour. Klaus came back home.

I got to see him and senior prank night, he even grabbed my wrist. I asked if he just wanted to hold my hand which made him smirk and made my lower stomach implode.

He did in fact hold my hand.

Sure it was while he dragged me down a corridor but he held it all the same.

Then he started killing people and turned Tyler which made me happy. At least my werewolf was useful after all.

Eventually I got back home and went to bed, with Klaus still on my mind of course.

Things got much more interesting from then onward. Klaus was in town much more and always getting in everyones business. I both enjoyed it and loathed it.

It was lovely because it meant I got to talk to him, and because I knew so much about him already I was able to keep him entertained and talkative. Especially when it came to art. I had to research so many artists so that I could engage him in conversation for long periods of time. I convinced the others that it was to distract him while they did their stupid little plans but it was really just for me.

I still sent my letters but I was confident that he didn't know it was me. Somehow I had made him believe that I was brand knew to magic and practically hopeless which he apparently found 'cute'. Whether he meant it or not it still made me blush.

After a few months I had the cage made. It was doused in magic to ensure he couldn't ever escape and I had put in a bookshelf with books I knew he would enjoy as well as a sketch pad and an array of crayons. Pencils were a little risky as they had a point but I put in some blunt charcoal. I had vervain growing beside the cage and wolvebane on my bedroom windowsill. The cage was set up in my basement.

My mother never went down there, she still thinks it's all horiible down their. She also doesn't really practise magic anymore so she's basically a human and oblivious to my supernatural involvment.

Thanks to her unawareness I was able to go about things without even being that discreet. Even if she had picked up on it, she made no effort to intervene.

So I continued to indulge in my obsession.

It was mostly harmless, though my letters progressively became love letters. It was entertaining to watch his brows rise as he read the suggestive words, often now his fingers would trace over the lipstick print I had left in the bottom right corner. Occasionally I would wear the same shade around him, just to test my limits. Sometimes I would spray the paper with my perfume before sending it too.

Soon I began sending other things too, like a rose alongside the letter or a sugary beignet that I had made myself. Sometimes they would contain propofol or something similar. This, with a high enough dosage, would knock even the original hybrid out long enough for me to go on over. I would often sit down beside him on his bed, usually my fingers would stroke through his sweet curls and I would press a kiss to his cheek. Almost always leaving the same mark as I did on those letters and taking pride in the confusion that painted his gorgeous face when he would see it in the morning and wash off my mark.

There were a couple close calls where I had assumed him to be passed out only to find him waiting in his bed, then I would have to be more forceful with putting him to sleep. Often magic was involved and I would lay with him, stroking the area I had struck him with my power to soothe the sting away.

Since then I had noticed his glances over his shoulders as he walked and the way his fingers would nervously tap against his scotch glass. I couldn't deny the pleasant feeling that buzzed through me at the knowledge that I made him nervous, borderline afraid. He even went so far as to have one of his hybrids stand guard outside of his room when he slept. So I had to climb up through his window. It was a hassle really but it got easier each time I did so.

I found myself in his room pretty much every single night. Something about how he was when he slept was so peaceful and innocent that I couldn't help but crave it. It soothed something within me.

What was even better than watching him while he slept?

Finding a painting in his art room...of me!

It was beautifully done and looked just like a photo. If i hadn't touched it to feel the layers of paint then I wouldn't have known he created it. A true, genuine smile graced my lips when I held it and I couldn't help but go through all his sketch pads to find more.

My next love letter hinted toward the art but I think that he was beginning to over think the notes at this point. They were driving him a little mad.

I considered leaving him alone for a little while but then he started getting into trouble. Too much trouble. The kind that got him hurt and stabbed by white oak. The kind that had him ready to leave Mystic Falls.

So I had to start eliminating threats toward him.

I went as far as hospitalising Elena, making it look like natural causes so that the others would have to leave Klaus alone for a while.

I befriended Rebekah, started learning things about Klaus's childhood, the little things that meant so much to him. So I went home and hand carved him a wooden wolf and left it on top my letter.

Slowly, I think he began to have suspicions. Sometimes I catch him watching me with a very calculative look in his eye though he would break into a nervous smile and look away, often walking out the room entirely. I didn't like that.

He tried to distance himself but I wouldn't let him. I thought it was clear that he was mine by now. If he had figured it out then he should be happy and relaxed knowing that it's me, not tense and worried. What did he think I would do, really?

Didn't matter. Time went on.

Thanksgiving came and went, Christmas and then New Year. I always sent and received a present. The Mikaelsons actually threw a Christmas ball which I of course attended and I was able to bag multiiple dances with Klaus. I also danced with Elijah, he directly asked me if I was the one messing with his brothers head, we were whispering and I made a little spell so Klaus couldn't eavesdrop. I confirmed it without actually admitting it and made some little threats for if he should try to stop anything, after I left for home.

I continued with my visits, my growing friendships and my gifts. And then valentines day came around.

I had been contemplating whether I treat it any differently to every other day. I never had before however this time I had somebody to think of, somebody I loved.

So when I woke up, I decided that perhaps I'd at least go see Klaus today.

What I had not expected was a large bouquet of roses, bunched into the shape of a heart set on my dining room table with a typed note attached.

..............................................................................................................................

Dearest Y/N, I don't usually engage in human holidays however you've recently changed my perspective. I hope you don't think I've been oblivious to your advances, I'll admit they've been affective. Love Niklaus

..............................................................................................................................

The note made me smile. The rhyming scheme matched all my letters and this was all the confirmation I needed that he had accepted my feelings.

So I got dressed into a dress, the same deep red as the flowers he had gifted me with the eyeshadow and lipstick to match. I drove myself to his home and this time knocked on the door.

Klaus must have been waiting for he opened it as soon as my knuckles hit the wood and he was dressed to perfection. His blood red tie matched my dress as though he just knew and his hand held out for mine without a word being said. I nodded to him and held his hand, enjoying the way it caused my magic to ignite inside me.

I was lead inside to the area which was usually primarily empty and used for parties and events however it was down littered with rose petals. Fairy lights and candles lit the room and a little square table rest in the centre of the room covered by a white table cloth with two golden plates hidden by gold plate covers sat waiting to be revealed.

"Oh wow" I whispered quietly. This was most definitely not something I had thought of occurring. I heard Klaus clear his throat a little as he hesitantly slipped his hand round my waist causing my tummy to flutter pleasantly before he kept leading me over to the table. He proceeded to pull out my hair, waiting for me to sit and then carefully pushing me closer to the table before sitting opposite me.

"I do hope you'll enjoy the food though if you don't I can be sure to get you something else-" His voice began to speed up, I could see his nerves playing.

"That won't be necessary, I'll have what I'm given and I'll enjoy it" I state simply with a reassuring smile. He returned it and nodded quietly to himself as he lifted the cover off of his play and I did the same. Underneath was a beautifully cooked slice of beef wellington with potatoes and a few vegetables alongside and a sauce to go with.

"I was going to do starters as well but I didn't want you too be too full as I have more for us to eat later" he explained quietly.

"Later?" I question with the slight tilt of my head and he smiled.

"We have a lot to talk about" He answered and I hummed, lifting the wine glass to my lips and allowing the rich taste to please my tongue. I licked my lips clean, watching as his eyes followed my tongues movements as he sat a little straighter. "However," he began, clearing his throat again making a slither of amusement make its way to my face. "For the moment, I just want to have a valentines dinner with you, my questions will wait for after." He decided and I nod, happy with his arrangement.

"Very well" I agreed as I cut into my steak and pastry and popped a piece into my mouth, moaning at the flavour and locking my eyes onto his. His adams apple bobbed and his eyes darted to his plate making me grin.

Dinner was mostly small talk, a few flirty comments through desert before he took our empty plates out to the kitchen. I got up from my seat to follow him but he shook his head and asked that I stay while he cleaned. I agreed without resistance, if he wanted to do the dishes then I wouldn't object.

He was back in just a minute and holding his hand out for me to take again, which I did. Then I was brought upstairs which made me raise a brow, "Already huh?" I ask teasingly.

He glanced over his shoulder at me with a knowing look "Don't act like you don't spend nearly every night in my room" he replied making my eyes roll playfully.

He pulled me into his room and closed the door behind me. On the bed lay every single letter I had written him, I clicked my tongue as I looked over the generous pile and slowly glanced up at his face. His arms were folded over his chest and he had that look in his eyes that just told be to begin.

I smiled up at him and let out a little laugh "Right..." I muttered, "Well..., okay, can we sit for this?" I asked and he hummed, gesturing two chairs that we went to.

And then I started talking. A lot.

I went from the start, Grams. There was no point lying to the man, so I just laid it all out bare for him. From the first time I heard his name to the first time I was able to see his face to the first time we actually met, to now. It took hours of explaining and answering questions for silence to actually come around.

His expressions changed throughout the discussion, sometimes he looked a little confused, sometimes he even looked a little afraid but for the most part he just looked intrigued. When I was done and his questions stopped flowing, he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.

"You're crazy" He whispered and I felt my demeanour change, just as I went to snap his eyes went back to mine and a wide smile spread across his face. "You're so insane, I love it" he murmured before my face was in his hands and his lips were on mine.

I'll admit it took me by surprise so it took me a minute to react. Of course I kissed him back, would have been really dumb not to at this point.

His hands seemed to be everywhere all at once, every single nerve I owned stood on edge for him and my magic began to flow a little too fast than I was used to. Klaus pulled away, a chuckle leaving his lips making my eyes, which I didn't remember closing, open.

"You've set the curtains on fire sweetheart" he mumbled, stroking a few strands of hair behind my ear as I took a breathe and silently mended the curtains with my mind. A kiss was placed behind my ear and I breathed in deeply. "I can't believe you let me think you couldn't even light a candle when I met you" he muttered and he smiled.

"You let everyone think you were Alaric, so..." I trailed but he tutted.

"Ah, ah. Everyone except for you as it turns out so we are in no way even. You have been tormenting me, lying to me, watching me sleep..." he smirked and I rolled my eyes, "borderline assaulting me!" he exasperated and I dropped my head back with a sigh. His lips pressed to my neck in response and I hummed with a clenched jaw. "You do not like to be teased" he stated and my eyes flicked to him "I'm not mad" he told me but I didn't think he was anyway "your methods for my...affections have been questionable-"

"Well-" I interjected but he shook his head and kissed my lips again which was a seemingly affective way to keep me quiet but I liked it.

"But" he cut in "It has been incredibly sexy to watch you pull an unbelievable amount of power moves under everyone's noses, including my own. I look forward to seeing how many more moves you have" he whispered, his voice becoming progressively lower.

My gaze fixed on him, my eyes narrowed a little. Was he saying what he wanted to say or what I wanted to hear?

His hands slid down my sides to the backs of my thighs before he lifted me onto his lap, having me straddle him in his chair and causing my dress to ride up. My hands held onto his upper arms lightly, he looked back at me with the same calculative look I'm sure I was wearing. His head tilted to the side making my lips twitch, he looked cute like a confused pet.

"I don't take well to being played with" I tell him and he frowned.

"I'm not playing" he replied, his hand caressing my thigh in a way that made an unfamiliar warmth spread through me and I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. For some reason I had mapped out a plan for every scenario except for one where he actually showed the interest I wanted from him. "I wouldn't toy with you Y/n. Should I have wanted to harm you I would have just done so"

"You don't think I'm a threat?" I question and he furrowed his brows

"Do you want me to see you as a threat?" He asked confused and I hesitated, did I?

"Maybe?" I whispered, unsure and he huffed softly.

"You have been dancing around me for almost a year now, don’t you think it’s time we both give in?” He murmured and I stared at him. Slowly his hands brushed higher up my thighs and he pulled me closer on his lap making my heart pound. “Will you let yourself give in to me?” He asked as his fingertips grazed the thin material of my panties. “No more stalking or knocking me out…just be with me, you can sleep beside me…with me and I’ll give you everything you could ever want”

I hummed quietly and clenched my jaw as I felt and heard the elastic in my panties snap. His hand pulled the fabric away from my body and tucked them into his pocket as his eyes locked on mine. I shifted a little on his lap, my thigh clenching around him as I felt my pussy flutter against the erection that was pushing against his suit trousers.

“You have no idea how hard it was to figure out who you were” he muttered as he pushed my hips back and forth in a slow motion. I could feel my skin heating up as my sensitive flesh rubbed over his pants. “You drove me mad” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear making a warm shiver slide down my spine.

A breathy moan fell from my lips as I felt his hips grind up against my bare pussy. “Do you remember that letter you wrote, you were practically begging me to fuck you” he reminded making my eyes shut, my lips parting as I moved my hips with his to receive the perfect amount of friction against my clit. “Do you know how many faceless dreams I’ve had of you? I had to guess what your pretty moans would sound like, how tight your cunt was, I need to see if my imagination was accurate” He practically purred against my neck.

I kept grinding myself on his crotch, panting softly to try catch my breath and my thoughts and his hands cupped my ass firmly. They brushed across the tops of my thighs before a finger was rubbing my clit making my hips thrust up and a moan to escape me.

My hands curled into his jacket, I always had the control in situations. I needed the power and the control yet I couldn’t even think about taking it right now. I just needed to chase that feeling.

I couldn’t help the choked sound that left me when a finger plunged its way inside of me. At this point my hips were rutting against his hand, my pussy surely dripping onto his pants but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day sweetheart” his voice cooed against my ear and I moaned aloud. Kisses burned into the top of my neck and base of my jaw, “I’m gonna fuck you against all of your little love letters” he mumbled and I cried out his name weakly.

Another finger stretched me open with my clit was rubbed ferociously making my hips stutter and thighs tremble with need.

His mouth captured mine as I felt my resistance snap. My body shook and my head felt light as my lips pushed against his with force. After he pulled back and let me catch my breath he lifted me up and dropped me onto his bed amongst all the notes I’d left him in the past.

His body knelt between my legs and his face hovered over mine as he brushed his nose against mine.

I think it was that moment that I knew:

Love would destroy us both.

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

5th base

Prompt: Dean/older fem reader. I’m talking 8-10 years. The kind of woman who’s a complete BAMF and has even more experience than Dean. Like she knows 5th base kind of experienced. Huntress or at least knows the truth about night bumpy things. 

A/N: The mention of 5th base took me right to Rowena and I couldn't get away. Background Sam/Rowena. This is not beta read or anything because I'm feeling savage like that.

Summary: At Sam's suggestion, Rowena offers to teach Dean about 5th base

Pairing: Dean x Rowena

Warnings: Implied smut, magical bondage. This is a smidge NSFW, but you could probably get away with reading it in public.

Word count: 676 words

Gif credit

Dean awoke with a start, cold air blowing over his bare chest as the covers were whipped off the bed. Before he could even shift, much less grab the gun under his pillow, his hands pulled away from his body and planted themselves on the pillow above his head. He struggled against the bonds, which he could now see weren’t material as the lamp on his nightstand flicked on. As Dean blinked and his brain came online, he realized his feet were also pinned to the bed, effectively keeping him from moving.

Next to his bed stood Rowena, wearing one of her more revealing gowns with cleavage and a slit in the skirt that together suggested she couldn’t be wearing more than a thong underneath it. Dean vacillated between feeling betrayed by the witch or interestingly bewitched by the woman.

“I swear to you, bonnie boy, that I have no murderous intentions, tonight. Quite the opposite,” she said with a glint in her eye, sitting down next to Dean’s hip. “And you are free at any time to end this, though I think once you realize what I’ve got in mind, you will be well on board.” She ran a well-manicured fingernail from the dip in his neck between his collarbones slowly down the center of his chest before resting her hand at the waistband of his boxer briefs. “It’s been suggested that you really do need to know the joys of fifth base, my dear, and that I might be the perfect person to teach you.”

Dean’s eyes widened as Rowena raised one eyebrow and smirked.

“Fif-,” Dean croaked, then cleared his throat before trying again, “Fifth base?”

“Aye,” Rowena replied, biting her smile to suppress a small giggle. “I was surprised when Samuel suggested this, since he’s usually quite possessive, but this was actually his idea. He seemed to think I am the perfect teacher, and you would be … receptive … to my lessons.”

Dean lay on his bed, magically tied down, and allowed his brain to entertain the possibilities. Confirmation of Sam and Rowena’s relationship wasn’t surprising. He’d been watching them get closer and had seen the looks passing between them. Sammy asking his girlfriend to seduce his big brother, though? Sammy trusting Rowena to know what Dean would want and give it to him? Dean glanced at her, sitting perfectly still, patiently waiting while he decided. Dean was slow to trust, but if Sam did, then maybe Dean could, too.

Teeny weeny Rowena, of all people, restraining a big man like himself and doing whatever she wanted to him, with him, for him? For herself? What would she do, exactly? What would she give him and what would she take for herself? A thrill passed down Dean’s spine. Of course, Rowena noticed when Dean’s dick started to approve of the situation. Her hand twitched, but stayed where it was, on his waistband, closer to his hip than his navel. She was waiting for him. She wouldn’t do anything without his explicit consent. Dean wasn’t sure if that made him feel relaxed or disappointed.

“If I get uncomfortable at any point, you’ll stop? Un-whammy my hands and feet?” Dean asked, needing the confirmation, even though he surprisingly already trusted Rowena in this. For a witch who was always out for herself above all, she’d come through for them a lot, recently. Not to mention that she could have taken this further at any point since entering his room and she hadn’t.

“Simply say, ‘Dimitte’ and the spell holding you will release,” Rowena replied.

Dean took a breath and repeated the word as he’d heard her say it. Instantly, the pressure holding his hands and feet disappeared. Rowena’s smile faltered and faded, but Dean didn’t move.

Looking into her eyes, Dean gave her his enthusiastic consent. “Let’s do this.”

The pressure on his hands and feet reappeared with Rowena’s smile as she moved her hand from his hip to cover his quickly growing cock.

“Oh, this is going to be so… much… fun,” she replied.

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(This whole tag thing may or may not be working, so if you want to know when I write, you should just follow @mrswhozeewhatsiswrites and turn on notifications. All of my writing, none of my other crap!)

[that-banana-headed-bovine]

Season 2 Shenanigans

AHEYYY sO I went on a giant Knight Rider binge the last few days, and I've FINALLY seen all of Season 2!!  Big thank you to @trust-doesnt-oxidize who watched with me and stayed up absurdly late because I wanted to see Garthe before I went to bed AIDBWJFNEM

I just wanted to post a quick reaction to all of the episodes, spoiler warning activated!

Goliath Parts 1 & 2

I LOVE MY DOOFY VILLAIN SON. K.I.T.T. is HILARIOUS, I love his dynamic with Goliath, as is evident by my handle oops- I hate how Season 2 starts with my son almost dying tho, almost had a heart attack tyvm! This is back before I knew anything about the direction of the rest of the series so I was legitimately in shock lmbo- Moustache Michael is a gem tho I love him. I SURE HOPE HE STAYS A DUMB VILLAIN WHO'S JUST REALLY SILLY TO WATCH. SURE HOPE THEY DON'T TAKE HIM TOO SERIOUSLY.

Brother's Keeper - Blind Spot

I- forgot that these episodes existed until I looked at the episode list for this, soooo...

I should really not be lazy and look up an episode summary and try to remember what I thought of these but the problem is that I am in fact going to be lazy because this post is already taking so long

Return to Cadiz

This episode is so,,, frustrating.  Not the plot or the format or anything like that, nono... I mean how they essentially introduced April.  Like, okay, I know that she has been here since the beginning of Season 2, but she hadn’t really said much up until now.  This was where we really got to know who she would be, and, uh... After this episode, I absolutely hated her.  Despised even.  She forces my son to go drive on the same ocean on the same beach where Karr DIED without any testing beforehand AND is chastising Michael in a flirtatious way.  The heCK is this woman?!  WHERE’S MY BONNIE???!!!  I was so mad at her you guys I.  But the thing is, I don’t hate April, not by a long shot.  In some ways, the rest of Season 2 does a better job giving her a character than all of Season 1 did for Bonnie!  I really enjoyed April and wish that both could have stayed.  BUT THIS EPISODE makes her SO HATEABLE and I just ugh.

also I tried to watch this a long time before I got to and after seeing the intro and not knowing the title of K.I.T.T. vs. K.A.R.R. at that point in time, I thought Karr was gonna come back based on all the panoramic shots of the underwater and I am so sad that he didn’t so oops this episode gets my wrath a bit

K.I.T.T. the Cat

0/10 there are no cats.  False advertising.

Seriously tho this episode was a pretty run of the mill episode.  The best part of the episode was Kitt, because it always is, but seriously that guy with the hedges was amazing- I GOT THE GAG BY THE THIRD TIME IT HAPPENED BUT THE FIRST TIME HE GOT STUCK IN THE TREE OH MY GOSH I WAS DY I N G- Also the fact that Kitt messed him up again trying to apologize is so sad yet funny ahosihdfiohasdf

Custom K.I.T.T.

APRIL GET THAT STUPID DECAL OFF HIM OH MY G O S H-

Somehow her 2-d design ideas looked almost worse than the actual thing and I thought the actual thing looked like a that default sticker decal that you get on a Hotwheels car.  I’msorryI’mnottryingtoroastanyartistsIjust I why there’s so much potential with giving Kitt decals :(

Seriously I want to use my drawing software to draw fire on Kitt at some point because it could be done so cool and that ain’t it chief.  I’m probably not going to be too great at it either since I don’t do backgrounds nearly enough and fire would be a background element for the most part but I could at least alter the colors ; m ;  OR LIGHTNING OH MY GOSH AAA LIGHTNING WOULD BE SO COO L ON HIM-  anyway it needed so much more red- and it was so asymmetrical too aHHHH-

I.  I’m fine it’s fine I’m fine it’s fi-

I don’t even know why Kitt needed a decal anyway, the other cars didn’t have to have decals to be considered custom, surely his dash alone could have done it-

ANYWAY

This ep was so WEIRD at times oh my gosh.  What was that series of insults the two ladies spat at each other?  Like the one just complimented her eyeshadow aggressively and the other one accused her of wearing “training bras” or something like whAT EXCU S E ME What is this episode?!  Kitt was so upset about the decal too :[

Soul Survivor

OH MY GOSH IT’S CUTE IT’S SO CUTE YOU GUYS-

I was recalling @knight-rider-fan-2000‘s theory about this episode (plz go check them out btw aaaa), and after watching it I totally agree.  Michael was especially kind in this episode, and he seems to be overall a more supportive mentor for Kitt this season, starting with Soul Survivor and being pretty consistent throughout.  I love their new dynamic so much- There’s definitely still episodes and moments where he’s closer to Season 1 Michael, but Season 2 Michael is a far superior human being in my opinion.

KITT’S SO ADORABLE LIL TINY CPU OH MY G O S H YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR SON IS ACTUALLY T H A T SMALL AAAAA

Michael really is so sweet in this oh my gosh, that whole arc where Kitt is his partner no matter what and that the car isn’t what made Kitt-- AW!!!!  ADORABLE!  Kitt being so unsure that he repeatedly asks Michael how it feels to see the Knight 2000 without him in it or fusses about his limited functionality as Michael patiently reassures him again and again that he’s wanted just the way he is, I just- Feelings.

One thing that hit me as funny though is when Michael finds Kitt’s CPU in the garage and the trash can is just like PULSATING and then he like yells at it like “tAlK tO mE kItT” and Kitt’s jus sitting there as a box of colored lights like “...”

I can just imagine a cut scene where Kitt’s like, “Oh and by the way Michael, if I could have said something I would have done so LONG before you started asking me to.  Believe it or not, I don’t like being in a trash can.”

“You Dingaling.”

Also Michael and his whole “I’m an honest man you can trust me listen I’ll give you a small TV just like this one” and then he proceeded to not do that.  Hmm.

Anyway, yeah, it doesn’t get any cuter than this.  The only thing that would have been better is if Adrianne didn’t exist.  Good thing she’s gone now~!

Ring of Fire

THIS IS SO TRIPPY THIS EPISODE IS SO TRIPPY

I would say that I hate Michael trying to get Kitt to subject himself to testing if he can withstand insane levels of heat.  I would say that if April did not then walk in and karma the crap out of him.  Gosh I loved it.  How he immediately was like whAT NOOO YOU WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE DO THAT and Kitt’s just like :/

dang hypocrite, Michael my feelings towards you are so complicated sometimes

anyway

So. Many. Dogs.  I usually love seeing Kitt interact with dogs but this started to get unsettling, I can’t blame him for not loving 6 different dogs all swarming him at once whAT- Have they nothing better to do than to jump on my son.  What the heck language were those banjo players singing in?  Was it a language or was it just gibberish keyboard spam that accidentally made it to the final script AOSHDIAOHSD

This whole swamp setting is really unique to this episode, and part of me really does commend the chance they took by switching up settings.  It’s almost always a small town on desert roads.  The way this all happened though was??? What?

I think the scriptwriters forgot that Return to Cadiz exists because Kitt got so much water damage AHSIDHAOISDH- I know April said the system was damaged but surely it would have minimized this a little bit.  Also did literally anything change by the end of this episode?  We didn’t see the guy get arrested, did we?  And the girl decided to stay living out in the swamp forest thing.  The only thing is that she, like, conquered her fear or something?  Even though she still isn’t acting in that direction?

This episode didn’t actually d o anything did it LOL

alsowhatevenwasthatexplosion

It’s not a bad episode though, just really bizarre.

Knightmares

YOU KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT IT NOT GETTING ANY CUTER?

I WAS WRONG.

THIS EPISODE this episode THIS EPISODE.  TOP TWO MATERIAL?  MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK.  TDR will always be my fav until the end of time I’m pretty sure because I don’t think another episode will get me to ugly sob like that (aLTHOUGH I AM MEGA HYPE HERE BECAUSE I WATCHED KvK AND IT WAS GOOD ALSO BUT WE’LL GET TO TH A T LATER) but in terms of sheer adorable buddies happiness this is the winner by all accounts.  I really like how they portray Michael Long, and I genuinely think the arc here has an impact on the rest of the season in terms of how Michael treats Kitt.

I love how Michael had told Kitt a long time ago how they were partners, like how he used to have a partner when he was a police officer, and how now when Long is so confused about everything everyone is trying to tell him, Kitt chooses this specific word to help introduce himself, and everything feels a bit more grounded for Long.  I love how Long immediately revolts against the way Devon and April try to tell him he’s wrong about who he is currently, which is, despite good intentions, the opposite of what he needs.  I love how Kitt then swoops in behind him and decides to treat Michael Long like a WHOLE NEW PERSON, one who Kitt tries to get to know.  I love how Long recognizes just how hard Kitt is trying and genuinely opens up to him.  I love how he never reverts to being mean or rude to Kitt after he gets in the car the second time, NOT EVEN ONE sarcastic comment.  How he never calls him a computer again after Kitt asks him not to, how he compliments his new partner left and right, how despite having no clue who Knight is he really wants to be that person for Kitt, because Kitt seems sincere and pretty great.  I adore that bit where Kitt gently, lovingly lists traits good and bad about Knight and how Long can finally connect to this other version of himself.

“One more thing about Michael Knight.”

“What’s that?”

“I was extremely fond of him”

I love how Long starts saying “Good work, Kitt” after they complete parts of their mission and how Knight does not stop this for the rest of the season, even after he regains his memory.  I love so much about this and could frankly talk about it even more than this but this is a brief summary so.  So yeah, we’re moving on ;W;

Silent Knight

It’s funny so.  I didn’t realize that Knight Rider had done any Christmas specials.  I knew about the Halloween specials, but I didn’t realize the Christmas special existed.  And so I was laughing at how funnee I was while I was like “SILENT KNIGHT HOLY KNIGHT ALL IS COME-” and then that’s exactly what the pun was meant to be.  they done bamboozled me.

ANYWAY THIS MIGHT BE THE STRANGEST CHRISTMAS SPECIAL TO EVER EXIST EVER.

They kept mentioning the Christmas banquet thing to make it mildly related to the season but then it wasn’t, it really wasn’t, it all revolved around clowns.  There was.  There was a Santa I guess.  Albeit a bank robber Santa--

And the kid is juuust obnoxious at first, I love how Kitt absolutely hates him immediately for some reason even though Kitt usually doesn’t hate people unless they do something really bad, but it feels so deserved because the kid is a jeeerk.  Maybe it’s because the kid accused him of endangering human life and that Hurt?

Kid: Just let me drive and I’ll throw away this dumb clock thing

Michael: No

Kitt: YES

Michael: W H A T ?!

Kitt: YES

Michael: ugh whatever

I was kind of expecting Kitt to pull some sort of shenanigans while the kid was driving as payback for whatever he absolutely despised him for, but Kitt was actually just really sweet and gave him a bit of freedom until he started endangering himself and then helped him get back into control.  Very wholesome.

AND the end was CUTE though, like the boy who had previously been a jerk going over and patting Kitt and being just sincerely nice to him ;w; wholesome

A Knight in Shining Armor

Gosh I always forget what this episode is about because the title is so loosely related LOL

The dynamic with Michael and the girl of the week was actually really cute and chemistry was not entirely nonexistant, so that’s a nice change from some of these that come out of nowhere.  Her arc was actually pretty sweet, how she resented technology because she wanted to be loved and cared about, how she thought computers were incapable of doing that until she talked to Kitt...

And the cave was prebby.

But why couldn’t she understand that her DAD was in PRISON.

“Why didn’t he ever come to see me?” “Because he was in Jail.” “oh.  But why didn’t he call???”

Diamonds Aren't a Girl's Best Friend

SOMEONE

AHAHA

SOMEONE CALLED MICHAEL

AHAHA

BERNIE CALLED HIM A DINGALING. Speaking of Bernie, all I could think this whole episode was

White-Line Warriors

LONG-LEGGED PUNK-

Seriously idk what this season’s love affair with the baddies picking on Michael but I love it.

Honestly the twist of this episode was really interesting, I still don’t fully get how the baddies’ plan comes together though.  So the song plays on the radio and the police go to investigate the drag racers and the crims are IMMEDIATELY ready?  okay then.

Radio announcer Kitt tho.  That is blessed.

I want Radio Announcer Kitt.  Then again, I just want more Kitt in general so.

Race for Life

INHALE

Y’ALL ARE REAAALLY TRYING TO MAKE ME DETHRONE KNIGHTMARES AS THE CUTEST, AREN’T YOU?

Well ha, joke’s on you episode, you’re getting docked points for only giving Kitt and Becky two interactions.  And for making the donor obnoxious for most of the episode (although that end scene was pretty adorable).  So, okay, second cutest.

THE WAY KITT WAVED I-

HE IS SO CUTE

he is so cute.

Devon was really sweet this episode, not gonna lie.  I’m not sure if I’ve said it on this blog before, but I had strong dislike for Devon after Season 1.  I can explain that later if anyone wants, I’d be perfectly willing to compare the two seasons, but Season 2 Devon is pretty alright.  He doesn’t have much of a presence, but when he does, he’s kind.  I’m assuming he let Becky win at checkers, in which case uh, aW?!  Devon that’s cute.

KITT TRYING TO TEACH THE TEN YEAR OLD CHESS AHSIODHOAISD I LOVE YOU BUDDY

Also, I feel like this is the episode April really became her own character, separate from Cadiz.  She’d kind of just been a slightly perkier Bonnie, but now we get to see her family, her concerns... And April’s a pretty good character.

OH AND THE WHOLE “Kitt is family” ARC IS THE SWEETEST THING ASHDHAOSDohIAD

“Julio, meet Kitt.  He’s part of the family”

“Thank you, Michael.”

MY.  HEART.

Speed Demons

Okay so.  This is another one of those episodes where very little seemed to change by the end of the episode.  The guy who was actually in danger quit motorcycling anyway soooo...  The episode plot itself isn’t what I feel like talking about.

What was WITH that one announcer guy?  Were we meant to like him or not???  First he tries to Kick the Kitt and Kitt’s like :/ whatever

and then he comes back and they start to have like, a deep conversation, and he lovingly pats the hood before walking away.  And we’re like AWWW OKAY THIS GUY IS NOT TO BAD

AND THEN he asks Kitt to talk for someone and Kitt’s like “...” and the guy riots.  Why did Kitt not talk for him and why did the guy go so absolutely bonkers when he didn’t?  Were the cameras rolling and I just didn’t realize?  And then we kind of hate the guy again because he once again absolutely went ballistic at Kitt.  “That’s Showbiz.”

But then the dynamic with that coworker keeps coming up, and yeah, I guess she does seem a bit annoying.  But she also seems like a potential lady of the week and a potential protagonist.  So when she gets splashed with mud or whatever that was and the guys all like :D

What are we meant to be feeling?

Are we meant to feel bad for her or happy for him?

Because I just felt confused.

Goliath Returns 1 & 2

GOSH DARNIT ADRIANNE IS BACK

ALSO I-I-I I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT YOU BEING A DOOFY AND STUPID VILLAIN JUST P L E A S E STOP ; M ;

SERIOUSLY WHEN DID GARTHE TURN FULL PSYCHOPATH-

THE FEELING I GOT REMINDED ME OF WATCHING THE SHERLOCK FINALE.  S H E R L O C K  F I N A L E.

Sigh, I should have known he’d gone off the deep end when he walked into a hot tub with jeans on.

I will forever be mad at some versions coughincludingtheoneIwaswatchingoncough for cutting out the fact that Kitt’s microchip was almost ENTIRELY WIPED/OVERWRITTEN AND PUT INTO GOLIATH.  Because uh, the way the show cut it up for TV, it seems like Kitt’s really in no danger other than being annoyed.  But no, literally everyone almost dies.  Fun times!

Seriously why did this convoluted garbage get a two-parter but Kitt vs. Karr didn’t?

This episode makes me sad.  Not just because Garthe tried, and almost succeeded, to take away everything we love in this show.  Not just because this episode strayed far enough from the typical formula for this to seem like some dystopian nightmare version of Knight Rider. Not just because freaking Adrianne is back.

I mean because I loved Garthe’s character, and this totally changed it.  I like that they went into Garthe’s trauma a bit more with this one, but unlike some villains in the Knight Rider canon (okay let’s not play games, UNLIKE KARR-), what he does is so dastardly, SO insaNE, that there is no way to argue that he might be justified.  No.  No.  Garthe, Adrianne, and Goliath are gone now, and that’s how it had to be.

OH ALSO GO O F F APRIL YES QUEEN I LOVE YOU- I honestly felt so bad for her when she turned around and broke down right after standing up to him, like dang, that hurts.  And Devon was sweet in this episode too ;w;

Okay but were they planning on making another episode of this?  Because that end scene was such an obvious teaser it’s not even funny.

“I hope we don’t run into those very much drowned people out in the streets again, Michael.  And I especially hope that they do not construct another semitrailer with the exact same scale and name as the previous one that was driven into the ocean.”

“Yes, I agree Kitt, this is also an anxiety that I possess despite the fact that they are very much definitely Deceased.  I sure hope that plot convenience does not interfere in the future.”

THANK GOODNESS THAT ADRIANNE IS GONE

wait what?  her actress is in another episode as another character who’s just as awful? wHYYYYYY

A Good Knight's Work

THAT BEAR NEEDS TO DIE. I am so glad Michael ejected the dumb thing at the end, Kitt deserved it. Especially after Michael essentially told him to temporarily kill himself. Michael's a cyberbully now ig. The arc with Kitt and the car salesman was cute. Apparently deactivation is considered programming now? Michael my mans you could have given Kitt any warning at all (I kind of take this back after one of the Season 3 episodes I’ve watched uHHHH this was a lot of warning compared to how Michael rolls in S3 what the heck is wrong with him). Cute episode overall tho I guess. ALSO I JUST NOW REALIZED "A GOOD KNIGHT'S WORK" IS A PUN BECAUSE KITT IS WILTON KNIGHT'S WORK AND I'M MAD AT MYSELF FOR NOT NOTICING IT SOONER-

Mouth of the Snake and that other garbage one that's title makes no sense

David might as well be a plank of wood. A plank of wood that yeets himself ten feet into the air whenever possible, but I digress. Does this count as superpowers? I just love how he offended Kitt 0.1 seconds after meeting him and then Michael proceeded to tell Kitt off for reacting. Love that soooo much. It's also hilarious to me how most of this episode has a similar structure to most Knight Rider episodes and then they randomly start reacreating the Most Dangerous Game--

Let it Be Me

Why isn't this the season finale?! I mean, I'm glad it's not, but why? This is way worse than White Bird like why- I feel like the Stevie episodes are kind of a controversy in this fandom? I loved the first one. This one's just, blegh it's okay. She and Michael still have pretty great chemistry WHEN THEY ARE SPEAKING IN REGULAR SPEECH. I do not like Stevie singing the same song with Michael 100 times. The duet at the end is kind of cute though, sue me I like corny things.

Stevie: I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have been with this one guy but ;m;

Michael: has been with approximately 100 women by now

Also Michael: How could you ;m;

Big Iron

This episode is kinda wild. Why does the guy manage to have a full out breakup with Lucy in less than one minute? Why is Michael a marriage counselor now? Why couldn't Kitt take the oxygen out of the cabin when Michael was definitely going to die if he didn't?  Since when does Turbo Boost use a ton of oxygen anyway?  Why does this man just immediately make up with his wife after finding out that she helped him? And most of all, WHY DIDN'T THAT BARTENDER LADY ACT THE LEAST BIT CONCERNED WHEN THEY ABSOLUTELY TORE UP THE PLACE??? Lmbo she's just like "Stop it guys :/"

It’s so bizarre that this is the season finale ahsdoifhasodf but go off I guess NBC

[itsafanficthing]

My Sassenach - Chapter Four - A Movie

I was trying to post once a month for My Sassenach, but then I did’t have a whole lot to post.... so here you go friends.

The long await, much hated, date with Frank Randall.

A03 Link

Damn it, Jamie could kiss. As soon as his lips had touched her own, Claire was lost in him. He pulled her closer and her breath left her in a huff as their chests collided. Gathered into his arms as she was, she felt safe, secure, protected and oh so very turned on.

Large hands running up and down her back before landing on her arse.

“Christ,” Jamie breathed before he continued to kiss down her neck and back to her mouth.

“Christ was right,” Claire thought as his mouth found hers again. He had no right being this much of a good kisser.

Claire had briefly worried at dinner that they may be venturing too far into “friend” territory rather than dating territory. They got along famously, but there had been limited physical contact. Their flirting over the board game had cleared up some of that concern, but it was the way that Jamie was kissing her that definitely confirmed that they were no longer friends. This was something more. Something deeper. And Claire was about to go on a date with someone else.

Claire eventually left Jamie’s. Clothes in tact, hair thoroughly messed and panting with swollen lips. Her Uber driver has given her a smug knowing look which Claire promptly ignored before giving the directions to her apartment.

Jamie was right when he said that he would give her a kiss as something to remember him and now she couldn’t wait for the next date. She just had to get through her date with Frank Randall first.

—

“Ye dinna have to go on this date, ye ken,” Jamie stated as he leaned against his door frame.

“It’s just one date,” Claire reasoned.

“Aye, but what if ye really hit it off?” Jamie looked down at the floor, his voice somewhat gravelly.

“Are you worried?” Claire asked in surprise, taking a step closer to Jamie again trying to make him look up at her.

Jamie grunted in annoyance before answering, “Wouldn’t ye, if it were me?”

“I was,” Claire answered truthfully, “before I knew it was sister, of course. But yes I was worried. I was worried that…”

“What?” Jamie asked hopefully looking up at her.

“At the risk of laying all my cards on the table,” Claire said with a huff, “I was worried that I was reading more into… us,” she continued, indicating between them, “then what was there.”

“And do ye still feel like that?” Jamie’s voice lowered as his hands rested on her hips.

“Not so much now, no.”

“Good,” Jamie nodded confidently. “Because ye aren’t. It’s there.”

“Good.” Claire repeated the word before pausing for a moment. “I am still going on this date though.”

“Why?” Jamie groaned, “I can already tell ye how it’s going to go.”

“Oh? And how’s that?” Claire asked with a smirk.

“Ye’re seeing a film?” Jamie clarified as Claire nodded at him. “Well first he’ll compliment ye, because ye look bonnie. Ye always look bonnie.” Claire blushed at the compliment as Jamie continued, brushing an errant curl behind her ear.

“Then ye’ll get some snacks, popcorn maybe. He’ll ask ye about yer work-“

“He already knows what I do. It’s in my bio,” Claire tried to interrupt as Jamie continued.

“And ye’ll reply, probably downplayin’ what ye actually do. Ye’ll ask him about his work. Ye’ll wait in line together for yer film, what are ye seein’ by the way? It does’na matter. Ye’ll wait in line, awkwardly standing next to each other. Then ye’ll sit in yer seats and ye willna be able to hold a conversation so all ye ken about this fella is his job and maybe what he does on the weekend. Ye’ll both spend the movie not really payin’ attention. He’ll be thinking about taking yer hand in his and ye…”

“What will I be thinking about?” Claire asked, cocking her eyebrow at his explanation.

“Well Sassenach, ye’ll be wondering why ye went on this date when ye ken that I’ll be waiting to hear from ye. Ye’ll be thinking about how I dinna like ye going out with some other lad. Ye’ll be thinking about how much better yer night would have been if it were me with ye.” Jamie brushed her cheek softly with the pad of his thumb and she fought the urge to shudder at the contact.

“Confident are you?” Claire tried to ask in jest but it came out much airyer than she’d anticipated. There was something about the way that Jamie was standing with her. The way that he touched her so gently. The way that he looked at her- It turned her legs to jelly.

“Nah,” Jamie chuckled shaking his head. “I’m no’. But I ken what I’ll be thinkin’ about.”

“Oh?”

“You,” Jamie said clearly. “I’ll be counting down the hours till our next date.”

Claire felt her cheeks heat up and she shook her head.

“You know you’re well within your rights to also go on a date with someone else,” she pointed out.

“I dinna want to date anyone else, Claire,” Jamie said with a somewhat exasperated sigh. “So when ye’ve had yer date, let me know so that we can start dating, just the two of us.”

It was then that he had kissed her goodbye and Claire had rethought her plan to leave and her plan to go on a date with another man.

“Goodnight Jamie.”

“Goodnight Claire.”

It was with Jamie’s kiss lingering on her lips that 18 hours later she was getting ready for her date with Frank Randall.

Claire was at a crossroads. She didn’t particularly want to be going on this date, but she also didn’t want to stand him up. She’d lost a lot of sleep after leaving Jamie’s apartment wondering if she should cancel the date after all. It wasn’t like she was expecting it to go anywhere. It didn’t make sense for her to go on a date with another man when she had Jamie waiting (not so) patiently for her.

She didn’t like cancelling plans. She felt like she would be letting him down somehow. She’d never even met the man and she already felt like she was failing him. Not a great start.

Claire’s job meant that she ended up cancelling plans far more often than she liked. She was a perfectionist in all areas of her life and while logically Claire knew that cancelling a date wouldn’t be the end of the world and Mr Frank Randall would more than likely find another woman on the dating app, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to follow through on her agreement to meet him.

So, there she was: standing in her underwear looking at her closet- trying to decide how to dress.

She didn’t want to go over the top and give him hope that there might be a second date or that she had put in a lot of effort trying to impress him. But she didn’t exactly want to go in house clothes and look like she’d put in no effort at all.

Claire huffed a sound of frustration as she picked up her phone and sent a text to Geillis. She always knew what to wear on these types of things, not to mention, Claire hadn’t even told her about this other date.

“Going on a movie date. What do I wear?”

Claire threw her phone back on the bed and looked helplessly back to her closet.

Jeans were casual… maybe she could wear black ones- they seemed to be more dressy over her normal blue ones. Claire pulled a pair from the hangar and threw them onto the bed just as her phone buzzed.

“With the red headed lad? Didn’t you see him last night?”

Claire read Geillis’ reply chewing on her thumbnail.

Rolling her eyes at her own hesitation to tell her best friend about the other date Claire replied, trying not to overthink it.

“Yes, but this is a different guy. We’re going to a movie.”

It felt like Claire had only just pressed the send button when the phone was vibrating in her hands, Geillis’ face smiling back at her.

“Another lad?” Her friend asked immediately, not waiting for Claire to greet her. “What happened to red-heid?”

“I told you, I saw Jamie last night,” Claire replied weerily.

“But ye did’na tell me that ye were goin’ on a date with another lad. What happened?” Geillis demanded.

“Nothing happened,” Claire sighed, “I’d just planned another date and it’s tonight, and I don’t know what to wear.”

“Somethin’ must have happened,” Geillis mumbled more to herself than to Claire. “Who’s this other lad yer goin’ out with then?”

“Does it matter? I just need to know what to wear.”

“Aye, it matters. I thought ye liked Jamie,” Geillis argued.

“I do like him.”

“Then why are ye seeing this other lad?”

“I just told you.” Claire’s eyes were running over her closet trying to find something to go with her black jeans.

“Ye planned another date,” Geillis repeated Claire’s words skeptically.

“That’s right,” Claire answered sternly, “now help me decide what to wear.”

“Is this because ye dinna like cancelling plans?” Geillis asked, ignoring Claire’s request to move on.

“Are you going to help me or just microanalyse my life choices?”

“Both,” Geillis replied confidently, earning a snort of laughter from Claire. “What have ye got picked out?”

“So far? Black jeans,” Claire answered in relief that Geillis was finally moving on.

“Good choice. What top?”

“Well that’s where I’m stuck,” Claire said with a sigh as she ran her fingers over her clothes, hoping that something would jump out at her.

“What about that green top. Ye ken, the one we bought when we were in London at Christmas?” Geillis suggested and Claire pulled it from the hangar.

“Maybe,” Claire hummed as she looked at it paired with the jeans.

“What kind of message are ye trying to send?” Geillis interrupted Claire’s assessment of the clothing.

“Uhhh.”

“Jesus,” Geillis breathed in exasperation as Claire’s non-answer. “What message were ye trying to send yer wee fox on yer first date?”

“I… I don’t know. I was trying to be more like myself and less like “Date Claire”, as you put it.”

“And who are ye trying to be tonight?”

“Myself I suppose. More casual than the date with Jamie. This is just a movie.”

“Just a movie, aye?”

“What?” Claire asked hearing the skepticism in Geillis’s voice.

“Ye dinna sound keen about the date. What does it matter what ye wear?”

“Because I want to look nice.”

“But ye dinna want to be putting in too much effort,” Geillis continued Claire’s thought. “I see. Go with the green top. It’s casual enough for a movie but ye are’na over doin’ it.”

“Shoes?”

“Does’na matter. Ye can wear heels if ye want, maybe yer white tennis shoes. Ye’ll be more comfortable,” Geillis suggested and although Claire couldn’t see her, she was sure that she had shrugged.

“Alright.” Claire nodded looking at the clothes laid out on her bed.

“Do not straighten yer hair,” Geillis said suddenly. “Ye always straighten it on dates. Let it go free.”

“Date Claire?”

“Aye, Date Claire straightens her hair. Don’t straighten it.”

“Noted,” Claire laughed. “I should get ready. Thanks for your help.”

“Nay bother. Send me a pic when yer ready and let me know when your done. I want to hear how it goes.”

“I will.”

“I also want to ken what’s happening with yer wee fox, mind.” Geillis reminded her.

“I know. I’m working tomorrow, evening shift.”

“Aye, same. Remember. Pictures and debrief,” Geillis said again.

“Yes, yes I know. Bye Geillis.”

“If ye get lucky, text me immediately.”

“Goodbye Geillis,” Claire said firmly while laughing and hanging up the phone.

—-

Claire was late. Claire was never late. Never in her life. She left early for most appointments to arrive with time to spare. She arrived to work half an hour early to each shift, just in case. But right now- she was late. She had excuses; the Uber hadn’t arrived and then the roadworks on the way to the theatre had held her up longer than she had been expecting, the Uber driver had passed the theatre twice while looking for somewhere to pull over. Then she dropped her bag while exiting the car and had to stop to pick everything up.

Claire’s heart was beating heavily in her chest with anxiety as she tried to control her breathing. She could feel herself sweating and was praying that her cheeks weren’t flushed with embarrassment.

Claire took a deep breath as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She was already late- stopping and reading a message wasn’t going to make a difference.

“Good luck on your date. Can’t wait to hear all about it.” A message from Jamie. Claire rolled her eyes at the message and was about to reply when a voice nervously called her name.

“Claire?”

Claire looked up to see her date standing shyly in front of her.

“Frank,” she greeted pocketing her phone and mentally reminding herself to reply to Jamie later. “Sorry I’m late. I was just about to message you.” She was lying but he didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all. You look lovely by the way.” Frank smiled kindly at her.

“Thank you.”

This was arguably the most awkward part of any date; how to properly greet each other. Shake hands, kiss on the cheek, awkwardly do nothing. Frank took the lead and quickly swooped forward placing a chaste kiss on her cheek, his hand briefly clasping her upper arm. Claire had to force herself to stand still and accept the greeting, rather than jump backwards away from him.

It was a normal greeting, one that she should have expected- it was a date after all, but it still surprised her.

He was clean shaven, unlike Jamie who had a small rasp of stubble on his strong jaw. Christ. She shouldn’t be comparing Frank to Jamie. They were two completely different men… Frank was older than Jamie, by a good few years. Light brown hair, very styled, gel or hairspray perhaps- brushed out of his eyes, unlike Jamie, whose hair was longer and hung messily in his eyes. Franks had soft brown eyes with laugh lines- a good sign that he was willing to live a little.

“Well, should we err, get to it?” It took Claire a moment to realise that it was Frank talking to her, and she wondered if that’s how she sounded to everyone else in Scotland.

Frank was English. Very English.

While Claire’s accent had morphed over the years (spending time in different countries had a tendency to do that to a person), Frank’s accent was clean and crisp. It was almost laughable to Claire. He sounded… well pompous. Claire could just imagine what Jamie or Geillis would say about him should they ever meet. Which they never would. Claire shut that thought down quickly.

“Claire?” Frank asked again, clearly concerned that she had some kind of handicap as she stood assessing him on the street.

“Sorry, yes of course. My mind was on other things.”

Frank held out the crook of his arm in a very old fashioned gentlemanly way, which Claire promptly ignored and strode on ahead of him into the theatre.

—

“Did you have an idea of what you wanted to see?” Claire asked looking up at the board of flashing lights advertising the available movies and times.

When Frank didn’t answer she turned to find him unabashedly staring at her. God, did she have something on her face, or in her hair? She knew she should have straightened it.

“Frank,” she called his name to get his attention, feeling stupid. Geillis was right. Frank was such an old man's name.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologised taking a step forward to be next to her and look at the movie times. “This is going to sound very cheesy but you do look very nice. I suppose I was distracted.”

Claire smiled tightly at him. She was sure that it was meant as a compliment, Jamie had done and said things to the same effect after all, but she didn’t feel as warm inside when it came from Frank. It felt a bit… what was the word… predatory. Claire shook her head. She was casting some very wide judgements on a man that she knew nothing about.

“So, the movie? Any idea?” She asked, directing the conversation to something neutral and ignoring his “compliment”.

“Oh, whatever you like, dear,” Frank replied as he squinted to read the illuminated words.

Dear. He called her Dear. On the first date. Oh no. No, that was not going to work at all.

Though, Jamie did call her Sassenach. So it wasn’t that pet names were necessarily a bad thing. It was that Frank called her a name that was specifically reserved for grandparents and people that had been married for forty years. Not people you had just met for a first date.

Though, if Jamie’s pet name was anything to go by, the English version… well Frank may as well have called her “bitch”. Claire snorted a laugh at the thought of Frank greeting her like that, as prim and proper as he was.

“Something I’m missing?” Frank asked with a grin on his face waiting to be let in on the joke.

“Oh no, it’s nothing,” Claire answered feeling her cheeks flush.

Frank arched an eyebrow at her and she almost felt like she was getting in trouble for not telling him.

“It’s just… a friend of mine… is Scottish, he calls me “Sass-en-ack”, (damn it, it sounded horrible when she didn’t have Jamie’s liquid accent) “and I was just thinking that the equivalent of that in English might as well be “bitch” and the thought of you calling me bitch… well, it just made me laugh.”

The amused smile was fixed on Franks face. Definitely fake. He nodded once as if he understood the joke (though clearly he didn’t at all) before turning back to the movie board.

“Yes well, I wouldn’t imagine that would be the best way to greet you. A friend of yours, you said? That’s not particularly respectful. I would never do such a thing.”

“Oh no-” Claire tried to explain, “no he doesn’t mean it like that. It’s just. I’m English and the Scottish don’t particularly love the English and it’s in jest, it’s not a rude thing.”

“Yes I’ve noticed,” Frank hummed as a few teenagers passed them cackling loudly at something their friend was saying.

“No it’s not that… it’s… never mind. It was a brief funny thought that I’d had,” Claire shook her head. She shouldn’t have tried to explain it. Jamie would have laughed. Claire made a mental note to tell him about it. “So, the film?”

“Perhaps “Mary Queen of Scots?” Frank suggested looking away from the board to the ticketing line.

“Why not, when in Rome… or Scotland I suppose.”

Frank did laugh at that and Claire fought the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn’t even that funny.

—

Waiting in line was almost exactly as Jamie had described.

Frank asked Claire about her work and she told him about nursing. She asked him about his job and he launched into a detailed description that Claire boiled down to one word. “Historian”.

“So then you’ll be able to judge the inaccuracies of the film.”

“Oh I believe so. Not exactly the year of my personal expertise, but I have done some reading on it of course.”

“Of course, as did I,” Claire replied (somewhat sarcastically pompously).

“Really?” Frank sounded thrilled.

“Yes, I believe it was grade ten history… or perhaps eleventh year.”

“Oh, so not recently then?” Frank sounded immediately crestfallen.

“Oh no, that was only… two years ago?” Claire answered pretending to be thoughtful. “I failed that class a lot.”

There was a brief pause between them as Frank studied her and Claire stared straight ahead waiting for her joke to land.

“Your joking,” he finally said, somewhat amused.

“I am absolutely joking,” Claire answered in relief as Frank began to laugh. “Though I have to say I am offended at how long it took you to figure that out.”

“You said it so seriously,” Fank defended still chuckling.

“That’s called sarcasm, Frank.” At least he did know how it laugh… eventually.

“Lowest form of humour, people say,” he said nudging her playfully.

“And yet the most popular.” Claire grinned as the pre-pubescent usher scanned their tickets.

—-

The movie was good. Worthy of an Oscar, Claire thought.

“Loaded with factual inaccuracies, if you ask me,” Frank said as they exited the theatre.

Claire hadn’t.

“I quite liked it. There needs to be some licence for creativity.”

“Oh of course, of course,” Frank immediately conceded. “I was merely pointing out, well Mary and Elizabeth never actually met in real life. And the scene of John Knox arguing about Mary taking another husband. The timeline is off, it would have been treason to say such a thing.”

“I don’t think that anyone watching the film would have known that,” Claire reasoned.

“I knew that,” Frank said proudly.

“Yes but you’re a historian, aren’t you? I didn’t know that, even with my very impressive and relevant eleventh year history knowledge.”

Frank chuckled lightly at Claire comment and shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”

They continued their way out of the theatre, moving slowly with the other patrons until they were standing awkwardly on the footpath where they had first met.

“Well, shall we go get a coffee or something?” Frank suggested as he smiled at Claire.

She hesitated. Before meeting Jamie Claire would have said yes in an instant. Frank was respectful, understood some of her jokes, he complimented her and he was clearly very intelligent. But there was no… spark, there was no zing. Unlike with Jamie whom she had hit it off immediately, even if she had been a bumbling embarrassing idiot.

“It’s just a cup of coffee,” Frank said reading her hesitation. “We’ve hardly spoken. I would like to get to know you.”

Claire smiled at him before nodding. It was one cup of coffee. How bad could it be?

He held his arm out to her and she ignored it once again. They weren’t there yet “dear”.

—

Despite how the earlier date had gone and the judgements that Claire had made about Frank, she actually had a good time with him. Once he had relaxed and stopped trying to impress her, he was actually quite funny. He was clearly very intelligent, an academic, but she didn’t feel like he was talking down to her. He was very passionate about his job and very obviously loved what he did.

He was currently completing research into the highland clans of the 1640’s and was travelling around Scotland on a research expedition.

He actually reminded Claire a lot of her uncle and she felt the unwelcome sting of grief pick her ribcage as she thought of him.

Lamb was- eccentric was putting it lightly, he was passionate about life, passionate about history, passionate about Claire. When he had the heart attack and was gone not even four hours later, enough time for Claire to get to the hospital and hug him once more before he slipped away, Claire was numb from the shock of it.

Lamb who had always been so full of life, now gray and lifeless on a hospital bed. It was a shock to Claire’s system and it took her a long time to be able to move on with her life. Much faster than her parents deaths, but then she was much, much younger then.

“Claire?” Frank’s voice brought her back to the present. “I’m sorry. I’m talking about this too much. My brother always tells me that I talk about my work too much.”

“You have a brother?” Claire latched back onto the conversation and pushed the memories of her uncle and her parents firmly to the back of her mind.

“Yes, two actually. I’m the middle child.”

“What’s the age difference?” Claire asked. She was always fascinated by sibling dynamics, perhaps it was the result of growing up as an only child of a single parent.

“John is four years older and Alex is six years younger,” Frank answered, smiling at her. Obviously glad that he had her full attention again.

“That’s quite a large gap between you all.”

“Well it certainly made growing up interesting. A house full of boys for my mother. I think she always wanted a girl so she is very soft with Alex.”

“I'm sure she’s soft with all of you,” Claire said with a laugh. “You just don’t see it because it’s you.”

Frank wrinkled his nose as he shook his head, “No, Alex has always been a soft spot for my mother.”

Claire smiled at him. She actually did quite like Frank Randall. Not as much as Jamie of course, but she didn’t actually regret coming out on a date with him as much as she thought that she would.

“What about your father?” Claire asked before she finished the last of her coffee.

“What about him?” Frank’s voice grew sharper, and less warm then when he spoke about his mother.

“Does he dote on your brother as well?”

“I shouldn’t think so, we haven’t seen him since just after Alex was born.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Claire reached out and touched Frank’s hand in sympathy.

Frank shrugged casually. “From what I can remember of him, it doesn’t seem worth having the memory.” Frank turned his hand so now they were… well they weren’t exactly holding hands, but they were touching.

“What about you? Parents? Siblings?” Frank asked as he looked up at Claire. She wanted to move, but it felt awkward to so anything so her hand sat limply in his.

“Orphaned and an only child, I’m afraid. Not much to tell.”

“Oh, Claire. I’m so sorry.” Frank sounded genuinely upset for her and Claire shrugged off his concern.

“My uncle raised me, essentially. So I wasn’t exactly lonely. But I would have loved a sibling.”

“You’re uncle never…?”

“No,” Claire shook her head as memories of her Uncle Lamb washed through her mind.

—

“Uncle Lamb, that lady was staring at your bottom,” a young and hardly innocent seven year old Claire had announced loudly to the entire cafe.

Lamb had shook his head, grinning at his young niece. “Perhaps I sat in something.”

“I don’t think so,” Claire continued, unaware of the peals of suppressed laughter coming from the patrons around them. “Stand up and let me see.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Claire,” Lamb said kindly as his coffee arrived.

“But if you did sit in something, then we need to wash it in soda to get it out. That’s what Mary’s mum used when she got chocolate on her skirt. That’s what Mary said. She said that her mum used soda. And I said that it would make it all sticky. That it was probably something else. But it wasn’t Uncle Lamb. It WAS soda.”

“Well, I hardly think I am going to take of my pants in this cafe to dunk them in some soda, sweetheart.”

“No, I guess not. But you can borrow my sweater when we leave, and wrap it around your waist if you like. Then more ladies won’t look at your bottom.”

“Thank goodness I have you, little Lamb. Always protecting me.”

Claire smiled sweetly at him before she dug into the muffin and hot chocolate in front of her.

—

“No, he was never really interested in relationships,” Claire said, snapping herself back to the present. “I don’t think he was particularly keen on a family until he was landed with me.”

“How old were you?” Frank asked carefully. He was trying to entwine their fingers together but Claire moved her hands to her empty coffee cup, pretending to warm her hands on the mug. The mug was cold, but Frank didn’t need to know that.

“Six. I don’t have many memories of them. I have photos and videos of course, but it’s not quite the same. Although-” Claire paused as she wondered why she was being so open with Frank about her family history. She hadn’t told Jamie about any of this yet.

“Yes?” Frank encouraged, his hand was still lying on the table between them, waiting to trap her own again. She was sure if she even so much as reached for a napkin, he would seize the opportunity to hold her hand again.

“I don’t have many memories of us together. A few that I think my mind has just created from various hallmark movies, you know every memory that a child wants, Christmas, birthdays, those kinds of things.”

Frank nodded in understanding and Claire continued.

“But I do have these moments, like a certain smell or a sound and I’ll be transported back to when I was a child and it will be my mother’s perfume, or my father's laugh. And then it’s gone, a second later. But for a moment it’s like I can remember everything about them and they haven’t really died and I’m just waiting for them to come and pick me up from school.” Claire’s voice clogged with emotion and she had to clear her throat to continue.

“Anyway, it doesn’t happen all that often. But it’s strange, isn’t it, the things you remember.”

“Yes, yes it is.” Frank’s forehead wrinkled in thought and he was playing with his bottom lip.

“What?” Claire asked with a small smile as he looked back up at her quickly.

“Well, it’s just, you were so young, and I don’t mean to be rude, but it's truly fascinating. How can you be sure that the smell of the perfume is your mothers? Or your father's laugh? How can that be?”

“Oh,” Claire felt herself flush a little under Frank’s gaze and she wasn’t entirely sure why for a moment. She hadn’t really shared those kinds of memories with anyone before. Geillis, perhaps, but that would have been years ago. Her Uncle when he was still alive, she would have told Lamb about it. He might have confirmed it- the perfume perhaps.

Claire couldn’t quite meet Frank’s eyes. She’d shared something deeply personal with him and he was trying to pick apart the only memory she had of her parents. What did it matter that it wasn’t actually her father’s laugh or her mother’s perfume. It was the feeling that was associated with it. The feeling of family- of belonging to something.

And Frank was, what, trying to tell her that those things weren’t real?

“I suppose I don’t know. Maybe it’s buried deep in my subconscious,” Claire answer slowly, calm and measured- trying not to be emotional in front of a man she barely knew. “Maybe it’s the echo of them on earth trying to tell me that the love me? Maybe it’s just me clutching at straws to feel like I still have some connection to my parents. Who knows. Does it matter?”

Claire met his eyes as she spoke and she saw the skepticism pass over him as she spoke.

“They are good memories, why shouldn’t I try to gather what I can, while I can, when I was cheated from having the life with them that I was supposed to?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Claire. I completely agree,” Frank said quickly trying to back-track. “I simply meant that it is fascinating what your mind will retain as a memory and the feeling that you will associated with it, with no idea of its origin.”

Claire ground her back teeth together and nodded quickly. “Yes. Quite.”

It was awkward then. Claire wanted to end the date and Frank clearly wanted to continue. She thought about messaging Geillis with a code to call her and pretend there was some emergency that Claire needed to attend to. But she was an adult wasn’t she? She didn’t think that this date was going to go anywhere and now she had confirmed in in the last four minutes. Jamie would be thrilled.

Claire looked at her watch. They had been chatting in the coffee shop for well over an hour and a half. That was long enough, wasn't it? Counting in the movie, she’d been with the man for over four hours. Christ. How had it taken her four hours to realise he was an idiot?

To be fair, about three of those hours were in a silent movie theatre. Jamie was right. A movie was a terrible first date idea. You couldn’t get to know someone in a movie. And in the last four to five minutes Claire had discovered that there would be no second date or quick coffee catch up (a fact she should have realised the moment she found out that Jamie was having coffee with his sister and not another date).

“I’d like to see you again-” Frank began as Claire opened her mouth to say “I think I’d best be off.”

Claire abruptly closed her mouth and held her tongue.

“It’s not often that you meet such a… a beautiful and intelligent woman on these dating apps. It’s been very refreshing,” Frank continued unaware of Claire’s discomfort. “I’ve met a lot of very attractive women, of course, but none that are so quick, as you are.”

“Are you saying that women can only either be attractive or smart?” Claire asked as her eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh that’s just my experience,” Frank waved away her comment. “But not you, you are both.”

“How kind,” Claire answered flatly. She didn’t take kindly to a compliment that came at the expense of another woman, even a hypothetical woman she didn’t know.

“Yes.” Frank nodded enthusiastically, glad that Claire seemed to be following along with him.

“I should go,” Claire said abruptly, before standing up and tucking in her chair.

“Oh so soon?” Frank rushed to join her and bumped into the table making the mugs and saucers rattle.

“Yes I-” Claire hesitated. She has been about to make some excuse about needing to work early in the morning. In truth she had the next two days off work. She had no real obligations and no real reason to leave except that Frank Randall turned out to be a bit of a jerk.

She couldn’t say that to him, could she?

“Yes,” she repeated. Claire didn’t owe him anything, false explanation or the truth. She could just leave.

“Well, should we schedule our next date?” Frank asked eagerly as he followed her out of the cafe.

Claire called up her Uber app and quickly scheduled a ride. She could pretend she hadn’t heard him and that she was concentrating on her phone. But he would just ask again.

“Erm.” As much as she wanted to be the type of person that told the truth all the time, and was painfully blunt with people, she just wasn’t. She could be at work, but that was work. This was different.

“I am working this week, so much schedule is a little bit hectic. I haven’t received my full roster yet and I may be on call,” She hedged.

“Oh well, shall I just text you then?” Frank asked. He was disappointed. Claire could tell. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Sure.” Claire felt her phone vibrate in her hand as her Uber approached.

“Well I had a lovely time,” Frank said taking a step towards her. She nearly took a step back if it meant she wouldn’t then be standing in the pathway of oncoming traffic.

“Yes,” Claire answered lamely. She’d had… well it hadn’t been terrible, until the end there.

“May I kiss you goodbye?” He asked softly, looking at her carefully.

God no. Please no.

“This is me,” Claire breathed in relief as a black Mazda pulled up in front of her.

Frank looked even more disappointed as she opened the door. She thought that he might have tried to kiss her, regardless of her giving her permission or not and all she wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as possible.

“It was nice to meet you, Frank,” she said kindly, turning back to him once more. He was much closer than she thought and she was surprised when his lips met hers.

So much for asking.

Claire pulled back suddenly and Frank was smiling at her mischievously.

“I’ve been thinking about that all night,” he said quietly.

Claire was stunned into silence. He’d just gone from being a bit of a jerk to down right creepy.

“Goodbye Frank,” she said harshly before climbing into the car and slamming the door shut.

She fought back a shudder as she unlocked her phone and opened a new message to Jamie.

“You were right. Feel free to rub it in whenever you like.”

And then a moment later.

“Are you free tomorrow? I would like to make good on part of our bet.”

[ariela-of-aedyr]

Old Home, New Beginning

Wanted to try something a little bit different, and so decided to write a completely post-Deadfire thing for Ari for the first time ever, to show where I eventually envision her ending up (at least until any future Pillars games contradict me, anyhow)

My Dearest Husband,

It appears that your trip abroad was rather ill-timed, for it means you have missed much drama and intrigue courtesy of the estate across the road. The young Lady Rosethorn has returned! Aymon's youngest- the Glamfellan girl who disappeared all of those years ago- returned rather unexpectedly, late in the evening no more than two weeks ago. She was joined a few hours later by another hooded elven figure, all rather mysteriously, and by the morning, Aymon's oldest girl- Tamwith- was being led from the grounds in shackles by the town guard, along with her husband and a number of Aymon's nephews. For much of of the next day, we watched as groups of people made their way out of the estate, arms laden with bags and possessions and uncertain expressions upon their faces, as if having been told to leave and never return. Most of the family's long-term guests, as well as a large section of the estate staff, were amongst those who left, and any who did not quietly filter out of the grounds were intercepted and forcibly removed by what remained of the family's personal guard.

Word reached us a couple of days later that Aymon Rosethorn passed away that night- the result of long-term poisoning, according to the physician who attended him- though how his daughter could possibly have known such a thing was going to happen, despite having been away from the family for so long, Wael only knows. The estate was closed to visitors, and all went quiet for a few days as those who remained inside entered a period of mourning.

Things remained quiet and much the same for just long enough that the events had begun to fade from recent memory, when another unexpected happening occurred. A small retinue of guards, wearing the heraldry of some Thayn or another, were allowed entry to the estate- the first to be granted an audience since the arrival of Aymon's youngest. There appeared to be no visiting dignitary amongst them, however, only a small orlan girl- of all people- who could not have been more than 6 or 7. The Glamfellan girl met this strange group at the gate with a wide smile, hugging and kissing the orlan with a deep look of relief, whilst a dark haired sceltrfolc man looked on. Whether the man is the young Lady Rosethorn's bodyguard or lover is uncertain, but from what I have seen of the newcomers over the past few days, he seems to scarcely leave her side.

Already changes are happening; a call went out a couple of days ago, looking for staff to fill the roles of those who were made to leave, and all manner of folk have been coming and going ever since; a section of the front wall has been demolished, and a number of workers- aided by the Lady Rosethorn and her young orlan acquaintance- appear to be in the process of setting up a vegetable garden for the use of the community; there has even been talk of sightings of a folk man having joined our new neighbours, speaking a language that none seem to recognise!

Whilst I hope that your trip is going well, my dear, I am anxious for you to return home, so that we might both watch these proceedings together. Who knows what might happen next!

--

Ariela let out a long, contented sigh, leaning her head back and half closing her eyes as she took a moment to enjoy the atmosphere. It was warm- that specific kind of temperature that she'd always loved growing up but that she had almost come to forget in the years that she had been away from Aedyr. The slightest of breezes ruffled her hair and kissed her face, and she could hear the sound of familiar birdsong somewhere off in the distance. 

She had never thought that this place could be a home to her again, and yet sitting there in the garden where she had played as a child, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and sensations, she couldn't help but feel as though she had never been away. That, despite everything, this place had never really left her heart.

"Now that's a right bonny smile, lass. 's a good look on ye."

Ariela opened one eye, slowly, reluctantly, and then the other; directing her attention off towards the doorway that led out into the garden from the main house, a little ways away from her position, and finding her lover approaching, hair tied back from his face, and Iselmyr's cheeky smile playing across his lips. "But when I said I'd like tae see ye get dirty, this wasnae what I had in mind."

"Iselmyr!" Ariela's exasperated chiding was accompanied by the involuntary flushing of her cheeks, and a sharp look that she hoped landed somewhere in the vicinity of disapproving. Based on the way her lover's eyes twinkled as if she had only amplified Iselmyr's mood, however, she figured that either her point hadn't gotten across, or the woman just didn't care.

By Ariela's side, Vela tilted her head thoughtfully, before turning her attention fully away from the flowers that she was helping to plant, to regard Iselmyr with a curious expression. "Did you mean you wanted to help Mama with craft time? That can get pretty messy."

"Yes." Aloth assured, quickly re-emerging with a somewhat horrified look, and bobbing his head up and down emphatically. "Yes. That is most certainly what she meant."

"Hmm... Well, Mama said we can do some art tomorrow so I'm sure Iselmyr can join in, too. Right, Mama?"

"Right." Patting the soil down around the flower that she had planted- a pink carnation, which had long been her father's favourite- Ariela pulled herself back to her feet, grabbing up a cloth from beside her, and wiping the worst of the dirt from her hands as she and Aloth closed the distance between one another. "It's so odd having the two of you here. The life I had before I met you, before I found Vela; it's like it belonged to someone else."

"Well, you did go through a lot all at once." Aloth remarked, reaching out to brush back some stray strands of her hair from her face, a soft smile on his face as he regarded her, though she noted he carefully kept her at an arm's length to prevent any of the soil on her hands and clothes from getting on him. "You became a Watcher, had your soul Awakened..."

"...Got myself a keep, was killed by a God, and then resurrected by another..."

"Well, I'd rather not dwell on that part. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you forever."

"Nor I you." She tilted her face a little, leaning into his touch to caress his hand with her cheek, whilst keeping her dirty hands by her sides, and away from him as best she could. A sly smile began to spread across her face. "Though I'm sure you would have been just fine, Engferth. You probably would never have known any different."

"I would have eventually. And I am glad that it never came to be." He went quiet for a long time, hand still lingering against her face though his eyes wandered off. She didn't need to be a cipher to know that his mind was working, turning over some thought that he was not yet ready to voice. Vela began to hum a happy tune off behind them, but Ariela patiently waited, eyes fixed on her lover's face until he was ready to speak again. "You know that you are under no obligation to remain here, don't you? If this is not what you want."

"I do. I know that. I just... I don't really know what I want." Despite the uncertainty in her words, Ariela couldn't help but smile. "But I think that this is a good place to be right now. It's a safe, stable home for Vela.... or, well, it will be once I finish rooting out my sister's co-conspirators from the family's social circle, anyhow. I can do what I always wanted to when I was young; use my family's status to help others. And once things are sorted here and start to settle down, I can start helping you out with your Leaden Key Hunt.... um, if you would like my help with that, that is." 

"I would always welcome your help. And your company." 

Rising up on her toes and clasping her hands behind her back, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. "Good. Oh. I guess I was wrong! I do know what I want."

"Yes?"

"Yes. I want to build us a home here. One for you and me, and Vela. And whoever else needs it." Glancing around at the estate; at the big stone house where she grew up, the sprawling, well landscaped garden, and at her daughter, sitting cross-legged on the floor, humming cheerfully, her smile widened into a grin. "This might be my past, but I think that it can also be our future."

[z-wonderland]

Pride, Love, Hunters and Vampires/1

Fanfiction

Part 1

Elijah Mikaelson x Elena Gilbert

Summary_

 this is my version of ‘Pride and Predjudice’ TVD/TO style

Well, blame it on this picture up there for me writing this  AU story. As always thanks for reading. A post from @rissyrapp20 just got me look into my archives for this story. Also I love Pride, Predjudice and Zombies 😘😁💕😁

______

"Forgive me, I hope you are feeling better." Elijah said as he entered the room where Elena was sitting at the table.

"I am, thank you. Would you like to sit down?!" Elena offered.

Elijah nodded a little and then, instead of sitting down, he walked, in a very huff and puff way to the window looking out and then at the slender brunette. She didn't quite understand the vampire’s sudden visit, and his demeanour wasn't his usual one.

Elena, nevertheless, waited patiently to hear what this announced visit was about, not understanding what has brought him to her friend's house.

As he entered the room, where she waited for him, all that what he felt for her for quite a long time now just came out of him without no restraint and he said looking straight in the eyes, his heart thumping wildlly.

"In vain I have struggled, it would not do. My feelings would not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardetnly I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I am fully aware that I will be going expressly against my family, my friends and my better judgement. But it cannot be helped - almost from the earliest moments of our acquaintance I have come to feel for you a passionate admiration and regard - which despite all my struggles has overcome every rational objections - and I beg you to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife"

Elena's astonishment was beyond expression. She looked at Elijah with eyes that cried complete surprise. She then swayed to the window looking out for a second and then turned to the vampire, now looking at him with darkened eyes -

"In such cases, I believe, I should say yes. But I can't- I could never marry you. How would my best friend say- oh- she would say this- I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to cause pain to any one, but was unconsciously done-  and, " Elena paused, taking a deep breath said," I hope will be of short duration."

Elijah stepped away and walked over to the chair where he had left his hat and gloves. He turned to her and feeling all the pain cut through his heart he said-

"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance."

"What? Oh - you wish to know - well- why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? You see- ahm- even if my feelings hadn't decided against you had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of my very best friend? But there are so many other things-"

As Elena said all those things, Elijah changed his colour, but he didn't say anything and listened to the brunette.

"I have every reason in the world to think really bad of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted  when you separated Bonnie from your brother Kol? You dare not, you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other? Letting Kol believe that she has decided for Luka Martin and that she only played with your brother's feelings, when it really wasn't so?"

He couldn't deny it. It was so. He had played a part to separate them.

"She is a witch and- you know so very well that vampires and witches cannot be." Elijah said.

"Yes, but- how - do you then percive that we- a hunter and a vampire could? It is absolutely beneath you to be with woman that comes from a family that has killed your kind?" Elena threw at the vampire.

"There is one difference between those you call my kind- We have emotions, and those others- the creatures of the night don't-" Elijah replied.

"Yes, I know that. And even though I am in other ways quite superior to your kind, in many others I am not. I am just a pretty little peasant girl deep down, even though my family does have coats of arms stuck on their entrance door bestowed by the Queen." Elena said.

Elijah was quiet. They looked at one another and one could feel that Elena wanted him to leave, even though deep down her heart was not sure that it was so.

The conversation had come to the end. He knew where she stood and this would be their last meeting, but still he had to know just what were the other thing that she had against him.

"The other thing -" the vampire started but the huntress shot up- cutting him in the middle,"Yes- the other thing! Just before arriving here, in New Orleans, I had the pleasure to meet Lucien Castle, and his friends, the Count De Martel and his sister, who you have brought down to utmost poverty and ruin. How do you defend yourself on that account?"

You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns" Elijah said, in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.

"Their misfortunes have been great. It was not the first time you meddle in the business of your brothers. What about Aurora DeMartel and Klaus?"

"Their misfortunes!" Elijah replied contemptuously. "Yes, their misfortunes have been great indeed. And this," the vampire walked with quick steps across the room, "is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps," he added, stopping. He then turned to Elena, "these offenses might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"  

Elena felt her anger now rising up in her veins every moment his words came shooting out, and yet she tried hard to speak now, keeping her cool.  "You are mistaken, Mr Elijah Mikaelson, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner."

"You have said quite enough, Lady Elena. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness." having said that Elijah bowed a little and left the room, leaving Elena in complete state of shock struggling with her own heart and tears that she so furiously wanted to stop from falling down. She turned her head to the window and saw him now mount his horse and ride off. His words drummed in her head like loudest thunder-"

"and I beg you to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife.

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x02 (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - Matt searching for leads on the student’s location. He gets a call from Elena.

MATT: Elena, I’m glad you called, have you found anything?

ELENA: No Matt, we can’t find any medical explanation. All we know from the patient’s assessments is that they presented the same symptoms before they collapsed, severe headaches and vision loss. They also presented the same clinical diagnosis, cerebral saccular aneurysm, leading to comatose; and they all woke up at the same time. Post-assessments are even stranger, once the patients woke up there were no signs of cerebral damage, hemorrhaging or any type of aneurysm found in their study results as if nothing had happened to them. Another odd thing is that the only thing, all the patients remember, is hearing a woman’s voice just before they blacked out. Some have been discharged, others are being kept for observation. Same goes for Mystic General. But, I think it’s safe to say these incidents definitely have to do with something supernatural. It’s just terrifying to think someone can have the power to do this… Were Bonnie and Darius able to figure something out?

MATT: No, not yet, something is messing with them too, but I can’t go into that right now; I’ll let Bonnie tell you later.  

ELENA: Is she O.K?

MATT: She is now.

ELENA: I hate not being able to be there with you guys, be of more help.

MATT: Trust me, Elena, you have been very helpful. We do miss you though.

ELENA: I miss you too! I’m trying to make my way over there for the weekend, so hopefully, I’ll see you guys soon.

MATT: We’d love that. Listen, I have to go, the boss is calling me; let me know if you find anything else, O.K?

ELENA: I will.

MATT: Talk soon.

ELENA: Bye Matt.

MATT: Mayor, how can I be of service?

EDWARD POWELL: Sheriff, I just wanted to know how your meeting went and if there is any progress?

MATT: Still nothing. Some students have gone missing from the Salvatore School, I suspect it’s related. I told everyone to keep a low profile, I think we might be under surveillance. In the meantime, I’m investigating the students’ case, and my friends are helping with some research.

EDWARD POWELL: The number one priority is to find those students Sheriff, we must assure they return home safely. Please keep me informed and let me know as soon as you find them. I will leave you to your duties.

MATT: Thank you, I will keep you posted.

EDWARD POWELL: Farewell Sheriff.

MATT: Goodbye Mayor.

Cut to - the study at the Salvatore school. Radka, Alaric, Bonnie, and Darius are working on their research.

 RADKA: Guys, I think I found something, take a look at this (shows them an old book). There are some similarities with the recent incidents. It says here that some sort of “mystical attack” was used to disable an entire army front in England, back in the 1600s. Over 100 soldiers mysteriously dropped unconscious during battle… Then again, the same type of attack in the 1800s, WW1, WW2…

ALARIC: Maybe that linking spell? (To Darius) You know, the one in your family’s grimoire…

DARIUS: That type of linking spell would require a psychic-witch to perform it. The only known psychic-witches are Bonnie and me, (with sarcasm) and I’m pretty sure we weren’t around at that time, I’m I right Bon?

BONNIE: Well, Silas was a psychic-witch too, so maybe there are more?

DARIUS: No Bon, Silas was a witch that used psychic powers, which is different.

RADKA: O.K, I’m getting very confused here, what exactly is the difference?

DARIUS: All witchcraft is grounded in psychic energy; powerful witches can tap into that energy to enhance their powers. Psychic-witches don’t tap into that energy, they generate it… big difference.

RADKA: Wait, let me go back a step, remind me what this linking spell does?

DARIUS: It links the mind of a psychic-witch to any given number of minds, and by generating psychic energy during the spell, the psychic-witch can pretty much do anything to the minds it's linked to.

BONNIE: Including giving them an aneurysm and putting them in a coma…

DARIUS: ... Even killing them, if the psychic-witch is powerful enough. 

RADKA: That’s very unsettling… but, wait. If there weren’t any psychic witches back then, how come your family made a spell that only a non-excitant species could perform? Doesn’t make sense.

DARIUS: I’m guessing they weren’t aware of it and thought any witch or psychic could perform it, reason why so many died trying…

ALARIC: Still, doesn’t make much sense… I know you two are the only psychic-witches that we know of, but, given that your family (referring to Darius) hid most of their historical documentation, we can’t eliminate the possibility that there have been others in your bloodline or in your’s Bonnie… we just don’t know about them.

DARIUS: I highly doubt that Ric, trust me, I know my family’s history and there has never been a Bannion psychic-witch other than me.

BONNIE: As for the Bennetts, grams told me I am the only one.   

 RADKA: So, we are back to square one… if there were no psychic-witches back then, then there is no way the incidents are connected, or that there is a linking spell or psychic-witches involved in the recent ones. This is frustrating!

ALARIC: We will figure this out Rad, I swear.

 Cut to – The twin's bedroom, they are asleep, Caroline is reading on a rocking chair, keeping an eye on them. Suddenly, a voice is heard, not very clear what it says but puts Caroline into a trance state, she wakes the girls up (who are also in a trance-like state) and leaves with them.  

Cut to - Damon walking into the study, it’s late.

 DAMON: So, I’m guessing you’re pulling an all-nighter? Maybe now I can be useful for something other than teaching a bunch of smart mouths about vampires.

DARIUS: Actually, we could use a drink (mocking).

ALARIC: Ah, that sounds perfect right about now…

DAMON: I will gladly serve my buddies a well-deserved bourbon (opens his study bar, gets the drinks, serves Bonnie, Alaric, Radka and himself a bourbon). (To Darius) Oops, sorry “buddy”, we are out of gin (serves him a cider), I hope you’re into cider, hear that’s what the cool kids in Ireland are drinking now (gives him a smirk).

DARIUS: Then clearly, you haven’t been.

DAMON: Trust me, I have; way back when your great grandparents weren’t even on the map.

BONNIE (Trying to break the tension) O.K, so basically, we have nothing…

ALARIC: I’m still not totally convinced that there weren’t any witch-psychics back then or one now…

DARIUS: For the sake of argument, let’s say that is true. They would still need the spell, not sure about back then, but I am 100% sure that it wasn’t used for these attacks, only I have access to my family’s grimoire.

DAMON: And we are still trusting him, why? I mean, come on, he literally has all the required ingredients… I think we should be asking why not who.

DARIUS: I know you’d like nothing more Damon, but the timeline doesn’t fit, do the math. I wasn’t even in the country when the first incident happened. Granted, I am powerful, but not nearly powerful enough to be able to reach and control minds from across the Atlantic. I can see why you are usually benched, not too sharp with your investigating skills.

RADKA: Listen, it’s really late and we are all tired, we aren’t getting anywhere. Let’s get some rest and continue tomorrow.

BONNIE: I agree.

ALARIC: Yes, let’s recharge and clear our heads. Goodnight everyone. (Alaric and Radka say good night and exit).

BONNIE: (To Damon and Darius) Aren’t you guys coming?

DARIUS: If it’s fine with Damon, I’d like for us to have a little chat.

BONNIE: O.K, that’s my queue to leave, goodnight guys, and please, play nice, we are all on the same team. (Bonnie leaves).

DARIUS: So, tell me, Damon, honestly, why all this animosity?

DAMON: I think I’ve made that quite clear, I don’t trust you.

DARIUS: And why is that?

DAMON: I just don’t. Call it intuition if you like.

DARIUS: Intuition is a great gift Damon, but not quite accurate in humans. They tend to believe they have intuition, when really, all they have is mistrust, eventually leading them to such paranoia, that they end up all alone. Maybe that’s what went terribly wrong with you and Elena. (Damon lashes out and takes him by the neck, Darius uses his powers to push him off). I’d be more careful if I were you, Damon, you are human now, still as useless as before, but much more fragile…

DAMON: I know what you are trying to do, and I’m not going to play your little mind games. But, rest assured, vampire or human, if you mess with Bonnie in any way, I will rip your heart out and force feed it to your dead corpse.

DARIUS: Uff, dark! Calm down “pal”, I can’t make Bonnie do anything she doesn’t want to… but I can’t control what she desires. (Damon hits him)

DARIUS: (Incorporates) Temper, temper… that has always been your downfall, Damon, you have no self-control.

DAMON: (Composes himself) You know what? For once, you are actually right (gives him a smirk). If you need some ice, you can grab some from the kitchen.  I’ll leave you to your cider… (Damon leaves, Darius looks pissed, he was expecting retaliation).

Cut to – Cave scene. Caroline and the twins are in a cell.

 CAROLINE: (Confused and disoriented) Girls, are you O.K? What happened? Where are we?

LIZ: I don’t know mommy…

JOSIE: I don’t remember anything, except hearing aunt Bonnie’s voice...

CAROLINE: I thought I heard it too…

VOICE: (Sounds exactly like Bonnie) You did… don’t worry, it will be over soon.

Cut to -Salvatore School, next morning. Alaric goes to the twin’s room to wake them up and get them ready for class.

 ALARIC: (As he opens the door) Rise and shine! (Sees they are not in bed)

Girls? Girls? (Looks around the room, nothing, tries the bathroom, nothing. Goes to Caroline’s room to see if they are there, knocks on the door) Care, are the girls with you? (No answer) Care? (Opens the door, the bed is made, no one inside the room. He calls Caroline’s phone, it’s in her purse which is in her dressing room. Alaric leaves the room to look for them around the mansion, calls Radka)

RADKA: Hey, what’s up?

ALARIC: Have you seen Caroline or the girls?

RADKA: No, why? Is everything O.K?

ALARIC: I can’t find them. They are not in their rooms, they are not in the kitchen, classrooms, nowhere… and Caroline’s bag and car are here, so they didn’t go out…

RADKA: Ric, we will find them, call Matt, I’ll tell everyone to look. (Runs to Bonnie’s room, knocks) Bonnie?

BONNIE: (Opens the door) Hey Radka, did I oversleep? Can’t even tell what time it is…

RADKA: Sorry to disturb you, have you heard from Caroline? We can’t find her or the girls…

BONNIE: No, I haven’t talked to her, are you sure they are not somewhere around the mansion? This is quite a huge place…

RADKA: We’ve looked everywhere, they are not in the mansion, Caroline’s phone and car are here, so she didn’t go out…

BONNIE: I’m calling Matt…

RADKA: Alaric is already on that.

BONNIE: O.K, let me put some decent clothes on, in the meantime, can you please get me some of their personal belongings, a map, candles, and we’ll meet at the library in five.

RADKA: But, Bonnie…

BONNIE: I know, just please do it.

RADKA: (Reluctantly) O.K…

 Cut to – the library, Bonnie is setting up to do a locator spell. Damon walks in.

 DAMON: Bon, what are you doing?

BONNIE: What does it look like I’m doing Damon?

DAMON: Are you insane? Don’t you remember what happened to you the last time? No way in hell you’re doing this!

BONNIE: I am, so please give it a rest, and help me set up.

DAMON: Absolutely not Bon-Bon! Listen, here is a better idea, why don’t we have your little friend do the spell, see how that goes first … Where is Waldo, by the way?

BONNIE: He’s on his way from downtown.

(Alaric, Sergei, and Radka walk in)

ALARIC: Bonnie, Matt is on his way, you are not doing the spell.

DAMON: Thank you!

BONNIE: Ric, we have to find them…

ALARIC: And we will, but not like this, we are not putting you in any risk.

SERGEI: If I may suggest, what if Ms. Bennet helps one of our conjurer students do the spell?

DAMON: Did you really just say, conjurer? Man, you are as old-fashioned as it gets.

BONNIE: We don’t know if the same thing will happen to them, we can’t put them in danger.

ALARIC: I agree, we don’t know if this thing only affects psychic-witches or witches in general.

(Matt walks in)

ALARIC: Matt, hey! Please tell me you found something.

MATT: Not yet. So, when did you last see Caroline and the girls?

ALARIC: Yesterday, after I tucked the girls in, Caroline stayed to keep an eye on them. Then, this morning, they were gone. Caroline’s purse, phone, and car are here. No one saw or heard anything…

MATT: Where was everyone last night?

ALARIC: Radka, Bonnie, Darius and I were in here doing research till about 2am.

SERGEI: I was in my chamber reading; took to rest at about 12 o’clock.

MATT: Damon?

DAMON: I joined them (referring to Bonnie, Alaric, etc.) for a little while, stayed for about 5 minutes with Bonnie’s wacko-psycho friend for a chit-chat, then I went to bed.

MATT: Bon, where is Darius?

BONNIE: He went into town, he should be back soon.

MATT: Damon, do you know if Darius went to bed after you?

DAMON: I don’t know Donovan, I’m not his nanny! I left him here with a black-eye and bottle of cider, that’s all I know.

BONNIE: Matt, why are you asking? Do you think Darius is involved?

DAMON: Maybe I have been underestimating you, Donovan…

MATT: No Bon, it’s just standard procedure. I have to know the whereabouts of anyone who was in contact or saw the girls and Caroline last.

DAMON: Nop, guess I haven’t …

MATT: O.K. I’m going to search the girls and Caroline’s room.

ALARIC: We already did Matt, nothing is out of order, no signs of a break-in or a struggle...

MATT: I know Ric, again, standard procedure. I’m doing this by the book, please trust me. Bonnie, let me know when Darius gets here, I need his statement too.

BONNIE: I will. What should we do in the meantime?

MATT: For now, just stay put, with your phones at hand. Ric, can you take me to the rooms, please.

ALARIC: Sure.

RADKA: I’ll come too (they leave).

 Cut to – cave scene. Caroline and the girls in their cell, the girls are scared and crying.

 CAROLINE: Girls, listen to me. I need you to be calm, O.K? I won’t let anything happen to you, understood?

JOSIE: Mommy, I have a very bad feeling…

LIZ: Me too…

CAROLINE: I know this is scary, but daddy and our friends will find us, very soon.

JOSIE: Why is aunt Bonnie doing this to us?

CAROLINE: Trust me Josie, your aunt Bonnie has nothing to do with this, she would never hurt us. Someone or something just wants us to think she is doing this, but she is not, O.K?

VOICE: That’s where you are wrong Care… (Bonnie walks to the cage door)

CAROLINE: Bonnie?

TO BE CONTINUED... Stay tuned for 9x02 (part 2) coming soon =)

[wafflesetc]

I’ll be there for you- Outlander/New Girl AU 

previously

@balfeheughlywed​- This is your fault.

“I just started watching New Girl and now I need a fanfic where Jamie and Claire are roommates, getting over heartbreak and dating other people while secretly pining for each other because they spend all this time together having fun and going out and being THEM but they are afraid.”

There’s a saying, it takes a village, and sometimes it does.  @katnoenau and @the-fear-you-wont-fall THANK YOU for your constant encouragement.  @kkruml and @missclairebelle- well, by now... You know.

Jamie

A soft knock on the door and a split second later, Mary appeared. “You’re early.”

He smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders.  “Och, I ken… Claire was havin’ a date over at the flat and I didna want to intrude… and I just had to leave a wee bit early. Figured we could take a nice stroll through the park on our way to dinner.”

“It is fine. I’m just finishing getting ready. Give me five, and then we can go?” Mary answered opening her door and invited him in.

“Thank ye.”

“Make yourself comfortable. I won’t take too long, promise.” She reached up and kissed his cheek as she closed the door behind him.

Jamie walked into the living room- taking a quick glance around his lady’s living room. He had met Mary through his sister, Jenny. Jenny had said they were compatible and of course, she had been right.

He enjoyed her well enough. She was smart, family centered, and the conversation was easy.

She wasn’t Claire, though.

He sank into the plush grey couch, running his hands down his face.

With Claire- things were as easy as breathing. There was no forced thought, no stipulated feelings, no awkwardness. She was blunt- always the one to make him accept the things he didn’t want to, make him fix the things he didn’t want to but knew he should. She was the driving force in what had made him grow from a boy to man, if he was honest.

“I’m ready.” Mary stated as she emerged from her bedroom doing a twirl.

“Aye, lass. Ye look bonny.” Jamie stood, offering her his arm. “Fancy a walk and some dinner?”

He heard Alanis Morissette through the walls as he emerged from the elevator, shooting a quick text to her.

“Sassenach, I can hear yer music through the walls. 30 seconds to get yerself fully clothed or I see what color panties yer wearing tonight.”

He laughed as he sent the message.

They had a system- things worked like clockwork around here- their system, foolproof. There were boundaries and rules- things they could do and wouldn’t do.

He knew on the Friday nights she wasn’t on call- she loved to dance around the apartment in little to no clothes while she cleaned, swaying to her favorite 90s music.

He had learned that two months into living with her, after accidentally walking in to see her dancing around to Smashmouth in her black grannie panties and a stern, thick British voice reprimanding him. “If my music is playing you tell me you’re coming home!” Needless to say, he had never made that mistake again. Seeing her so carefree- hair a mess atop her head, sashaying around with a duster in her hand, singing the words to ‘All Star’, and leaving an almost finished bottle of red wine on the counter for him to finish with a small sip—that’s when he knew he had started to fall for this woman.

The music paused as he put his key in the door, opening it slowly. “Sassenach, down to ten seconds. I am entering the premises.”

“I am decently clothed!” She yelled in response from down the hall.

“Good, I’m opening my eyes then.”

He closed the door, locking it behind him. The apartment smelled like her favorite citrus cleaner.

“Good night cleaning?” He asked as Claire walked down the hallway wrapped in her fuzzy robe.

“Always. It was a whiny Alanis night. I got into a fight with an attending over a treatment plan for a patient, he called me a bitch…And I think it was because when the head of Neurosurgery came to see what we were so intently discussing, he went with my course for the patient.”

She walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and grabbed two beers handing one to him.

“Ah.” Jamie said, taking a sip and sat on a barstool. “So- ye were right, he was wrong.”

“Yes. God what is it with men and thinking that they know better off than women?”

“Ye have boobs.” Jamie said, tilting his head to her.  

“Oh my god. Just because I have boobs doesn’t mean a thing. Most men think with their penis and still get paid more…. Just because they have a penis. I have boobs- whatever. But I also worked hard for a degree, dammit.”

“I ken ye did, Sassenach. Ye are one of the hardest working people I know—it was just a man asserting his dominance over ye. Surely ye put him in his place, as ye put me in mine almost daily.”

She smiled at him, as she took a long swig of her own beer. “I know. I’m just bitching. Changing topics, you’re home earlier than I thought. Date go bad?”

Jamie let out a Scottish grunt of amusement and shook his head. “No, it went fine. Mary just has a volunteer event early tomorrow, didna want to stay out too late. I didna mind… Wi’ yer call schedule, I feel like I havena seen ye in a month!”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed, and turned to the cabinet pulling out some popcorn. “Well, since it’s Friday and we’re both home… What do you say, movie night?”

“Yes. Though, this time… It’s my turn to choose. I am no’ sitting through another documentary on amputations from the eighteenth century.”

“Fair is fair.” Claire agreed, shaking her head in defeat.

“Let me go change and then we can start.” Jamie said as he nodded, padding down the hallway to bedroom.

“God… I forgot how much I loved this movie.” Claire huffed as she threw her hair up into a bun and then leaned back on the couch. The popcorn bucket was right in the middle between them—Claire’s hand never leaving it.

“Sassench! Save me some o’ the popcorn.”

“Shut up. You don’t even really like popcorn.” She laughed as she took a pillow and tossed it at him.  So, how are things with Mary? Getting serious?”

“I think so. I like her well enough.”

“You like her, well enough? What does that even mean?”

Jamie let out a huff and paused the movie, turning to look at her. “I dinna ken. Truly. I do like her. Enjoy when we spend time together and she’s a bonny lass.”

“That’s a good start, then. I guess it’s just still kind of new to both of you?” Claire questioned.

“Aye. It has only been a month, Claire. We will see what happens in time. How are things with Frank?” He asked, rolling his r’s in his deep Highland lilt.

“Oh, god. Frank said he loved me today casually on the phone. I don’t even think he noticed he said it. It kinda made me want to run for the hills if I am being honest.” Claire finished through a yawn.

Jamie’s heart stopped for a minute, and he looked away, starting the movie again, not really wanting to hear the answer. “Weel, do ye love him?”

He chuckled lightly to himself, ‘I say a little prayer for you’ crooned in the background as ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ was on the screen.

Oh the irony.

“I think so… I don’t know. What is love supposed to feel like?”  Claire asked him, turning her attention back to the movie.

He laughed at the scene but could feel his heart beat quicken in his chest and the lump in his throat prominent- like he had just dry swallowed a pill. He was grateful for the movie as a distraction to drive out his thoughts on just how much this movie almost paralleled his current reality.

“Hmm...” Jamie said, pondering. It was silent for a few moments, and like clockwork—the popcorn bucket was empty, and Claire’s head found its way to his shoulder. “Ye ken, I think it’s just simple…. When I asked my Da how he knew who was the right woman, he told me when the time came…”

He looked down as he heard the soft snores come from Claire’s body. “He told me I’d have no doubt.”

Jamie smiled as he reached for the blanket on his other side, and covered her with it. Slowly, he pulled the pillow and slid it under her, replacing his shoulder.

He walked to his bedroom door, opening it and looking back. “And he was right, my Da. I don’t. G’night, Sassenach.”

[sharjath]

New Year

   It’s been almost a year since my exchange year yet for the life of me, I couldn’t believe how fast it all went by. So let’s take a step back and rekindle the old flames of my year in the United States of America.

  My first memory of America was stepping into LAX and feeling the chilly wind on my skin. The next day was a blur, all I remember was that my eyes were searching for the Hollywood sign as we jump onto another plane ride to Washington D.C..

  Maine at that time (all the time) was pretty cold, I could say. I was always in my jacket and sweater and my lips were dry and chapped from the harsh wind. But I didn’t bother. I was too busy checking out the new environment and the new people that I would soon meet.

  Being with an American family was pretty tough, but I pushed through. There were lots of struggles, awkwardness, and fun times. I would say that it was a pretty rough time dealing with one of my host brothers. He was either too nosy, too noisy or too rude but hey, dealing with him was part of my experience. Being the sort-of awkward daughter that I am, it was difficult to open up and be a “real daughter” to my host dad especially because I don’t really know how to deal with dads (I’m not really close with my biological dad). It’s also really funny whenever me and my host dad both find out that we have ALOT of things in common-- be it in our life, our Chinese zodiacs, our humor etc. Devin (my host dad) was more like a life coach to me than a dad, honestly. He was always the one asking me about my plans in my life when I get back to the Philippines, he was always the one telling me to do what I want and be happy and he was always the one telling me that he sees me as a woman who can change the world yet is too afraid of everything. He is one of my most favorite persons in this planet. Renee (my host mom) on the other hand doesn’t make me feel as awkward as a dad would but I’m still pretty shy towards her. She’s the typical mom that every kid would want, I think. She’s very supportive, she’s dedicated and she’s really really mom-like. She makes me feel awkward whenever we talk about future plans, though (I believe future plans make me awkward. I don’t know who I really really really wanna be, but I’ll sure make it work). I remember when we were in the car and she was telling me to be who I really want regardless of the salary. She told me that I should get a job that makes me happy and not follow what my parents wanted me to be (they wanted me to be an accountant, are you kidding me?). I appreciate all those life-coaching times with my host parents. It helps build my confidence in my self and boost my self-esteem that I can conquer anything especially if I put my mind into it. There were lots of fun times with the Fahies. We went to different states and different places because they were big fans of travelling and they really wanted to show me the East Coast. But for me, the funnest times would be when all of us would stay indoors and watch a movie together or play monopoly on a snowy morning.

  School was different. It was tough for the first few weeks-- going back and forth on different floors, trying to beat the five-minute breaks before the bell rings and figuring out which class is which. But school is my comfort zone from the Philippines all the way to Maine. It’s the place where I can really express myself freely and where my friends are. At school, I met tons of different people all thanks to clubs and different classrooms on different subjects with people from different grade levels. I met my first circle of friends at Drama Club. I was a bit awkward and I didn’t talk much but American kids were really interested especially if you’re the new kid. So yeah, I met some of my friends there and until now, we still connect with each other and make plans as if I’m still there. I met another friend of mine at Pre-Calculus class. Her name was Karina and she’s another exchange student from China. I really like her as my friend and I really miss her now. We both hope that we see each other again soon so we could catch up and hang out again. I think I met some of my other friends at different classes. I had a friend named Alexis at PE, I had Jen, Molly and Liam at Chemistry B, I had Ella at Chemistry A, I had Emma and Karina at History, and many many more people. I then met my other friends at Tennis (yey fun sport, I love it). It was a very fun time and experience for me especially because I’m new at the sport. I adore my teachers back at Bonny Eagle High School. They are very dedicated to their job and they’re all nice folks. One of my favorite teachers is Mr. Geanangel, he is my creative writing teacher and he has lots of interesting stories everyday. He has the kind of voice that makes you think of him as a witty man. Another teacher that I adore is Mr. Mathieu, he teaches well and is straight-forward with everything. Also, he gives us candies for prizes. I got a big bag of Skittles for getting the highest score together with Emma (yey). I also like Mr. Pelletier, my tennis coach. He makes fun of me alot and calls me Stitch because he believes that I look like the blue alien (thanks alot, Coach). But really, I’m really grateful that he is a patient teacher and coaches the tennis team with all his effort. I love love love my Math Team coaches, Ms. Haydn and Ms. Prescott. They always feed us biscuits and ice cream and all the yummy stuff at math reviews. They’re all so patient when teaching us info that we never knew until that day. You see, I love all my teachers at Bonny Eagle. They’re amazing.

  What else do I tell you? This is really one long blog post but I hope you had great time reading it. Exchange years are awesome, I recommend that everyone should have one and together, let’s help make a difference in the world.

[sharrawrroar]

New Year

   It’s been almost a year since my exchange year yet for the life of me, I couldn’t believe how fast it all went by. So let’s take a step back and rekindle the old flames of my year in the United States of America.

   My first memory of America was stepping into LAX and feeling the chilly wind on my skin. The next day was a blur, all I remember was that my eyes were searching for the Hollywood sign as we jump onto another plane ride to Washington D.C..

   Maine at that time (all the time) was pretty cold, I could say. I was always in my jacket and sweater and my lips were dry and chapped from the harsh wind. But I didn’t bother. I was too busy checking out the new environment and the new people that I would soon meet.

   Being with an American family was pretty tough, but I pushed through. There were lots of struggles, awkwardness, and fun times. I would say that it was a pretty rough time dealing with one of my host brothers. He was either too nosy, too noisy or too rude but hey, dealing with him was part of my experience. Being the sort-of awkward daughter that I am, it was difficult to open up and be a “real daughter” to my host dad especially because I don’t really know how to deal with dads (I’m not really close with my biological dad). It’s also really funny whenever me and my host dad both find out that we have ALOT of things in common-- be it in our life, our Chinese zodiacs, our humor etc. Devin (my host dad) was more like a life coach to me than a dad, honestly. He was always the one asking me about my plans in my life when I get back to the Philippines, he was always the one telling me to do what I want and be happy and he was always the one telling me that he sees me as a woman who can change the world yet is too afraid of everything. He is one of my most favorite persons in this planet. Renee (my host mom) on the other hand doesn’t make me feel as awkward as a dad would but I’m still pretty shy towards her. She’s the typical mom that every kid would want, I think. She’s very supportive, she’s dedicated and she’s really really mom-like. She makes me feel awkward whenever we talk about future plans, though (I believe future plans make me awkward. I don’t know who I really really really wanna be, but I’ll sure make it work). I remember when we were in the car and she was telling me to be who I really want regardless of the salary. She told me that I should get a job that makes me happy and not follow what my parents wanted me to be (they wanted me to be an accountant, are you kidding me?). I appreciate all those life-coaching times with my host parents. It helps build my confidence in my self and boost my self-esteem that I can conquer anything especially if I put my mind into it. There were lots of fun times with the Fahies. We went to different states and different places because they were big fans of travelling and they really wanted to show me the East Coast. But for me, the funnest times would be when all of us would stay indoors and watch a movie together or play monopoly on a snowy morning.

   School was different. It was tough for the first few weeks-- going back and forth on different floors, trying to beat the five-minute breaks before the bell rings and figuring out which class is which. But school is my comfort zone from the Philippines all the way to Maine. It’s the place where I can really express myself freely and where my friends are. At school, I met tons of different people all thanks to clubs and different classrooms on different subjects with people from different grade levels. I met my first circle of friends at Drama Club. I was a bit awkward and I didn’t talk much but American kids were really interested especially if you’re the new kid. So yeah, I met some of my friends there and until now, we still connect with each other and make plans as if I’m still there. I met another friend of mine at Pre-Calculus class. Her name was Karina and she’s another exchange student from China. I really like her as my friend and I really miss her now. We both hope that we see each other again soon so we could catch up and hang out again. I think I met some of my other friends at different classes. I had a friend named Alexis at PE, I had Jen, Molly and Liam at Chemistry B, I had Ella at Chemistry A, I had Emma and Karina at History, and many many more people. I then met my other friends at Tennis (yey fun sport, I love it). It was a very fun time and experience for me especially because I’m new at the sport. I adore my teachers back at Bonny Eagle High School. They are very dedicated to their job and they’re all nice folks. One of my favorite teachers is Mr. Geanangel, he is my creative writing teacher and he has lots of interesting stories everyday. He has the kind of voice that makes you think of him as a witty man. Another teacher that I adore is Mr. Mathieu, he teaches well and is straight-forward with everything. Also, he gives us candies for prizes. I got a big bag of Skittles for getting the highest score together with Emma (yey). I also like Mr. Pelletier, my tennis coach. He makes fun of me alot and calls me Stitch because he believes that I look like the blue alien (thanks alot, Coach). But really, I’m really grateful that he is a patient teacher and coaches the tennis team with all his effort. I love love love my Math Team coaches, Ms. Haydn and Ms. Prescott. They always feed us biscuits and ice cream and all the yummy stuff at math reviews. They’re all so patient when teaching us info that we never knew until that day. You see, I love all my teachers at Bonny Eagle. They’re amazing.

   What else do I tell you? This is really one long blog post but I hope you had great time reading it. Exchange years are awesome, I recommend that everyone should have one and together, let’s help make a difference in the world.

[rjmollie-blog]

Agoraphobia

The microwave beeped four times and Leonard Berner rose to retrieve his coq a vin. His Giorgio Armany (with a ‘y’) clopped across the living room floor, crisp on the original hardwood. Berner had avoided installing carpet because of its inevitable fading and moldering and needing to be replaced – wood might get scuffed but only by his own knockoff Italian footwear. The living room itself was poorly lit and drab, but with some evidence of tasteful decoration. The foyer ushered you into the living room, which had a large bay window and green-checked curtains, whose sunlit shade cast an emerald glow over the room but themselves had not been opened since Watergate.

He had accumulated a motley collection of wall decorations, including an unframed Un Homme Qui Dort movie poster, and a small 3-dimensional inlet containing a tiny living room dating back to the Revolution, left to him by his mother. On the wall opposite the bay window hung Francisco Goya’s Los Caprichos etchings, purchased in a museum gift shop, each a two-inch cell in the larger 24”x36” collective. Among other things, one of the reasons Berner had to keep the bay window curtains permanently drawn was to protect his Goya from exposure to corrosive natural light.

Adjacent to the living room was an expansive dining room, with an antique banquet table that he kept as a private joke but never ate at. In his eat-in kitchen, rather, he kept a fully-stocked spice rack, the same green-checked curtains, an empty refrigerator and an Igloo cooler to keep frozen dinners in.

A petrified layer of dust gave everything in the house a softer edge, as though you were looking through an unfocused camera, or there was something on your glasses. The only thing in sharp focus was Berner’s Crosley CR47 turntable, blocking the front door, which he polished daily. Music, to Berner, was the only faculty humankind had to create rather than destroy.

Berner considered himself too young to have discovered this disdain for humanity he had become privy to, though he had always been precocious; it usually took a lifetime for people to seek out isolation the way he did, and his muscles were not even atrophied yet. He was exceedingly well-dressed for a shut-in, personal hygiene and outward appearance being integral parts of his daily routine. He removed the sizzling cardboard square from the microwave and sat down to eat.

He did not care about impressing anyone, he would say, back before the nausea caused by face-to-face interaction became unbearable. He was simply using his appearance as a lens of intellectual and existential superiority to show them that their social conventions were a joke. Berner believed that, whether he liked it or not, there was one inescapable truth governing life on earth, to which the rest of society remained willfully ignorant: humanity was a malignant cancer, whose biological objective was to multiply and spread until the host body was shriveled and depleted. Nothing humans had ever done in any capacity or in any era, as he saw it, had been worthwhile; anything seemingly constructive they may have contributed was an illusion, simply a way of making up for some past injustice committed by their forebears. The planet was an ailing hospice patient, a conclusion at which Berner had unhappily arrived too early on in life. Repulsed, he opted not to participate.

As he ate his frozen French cuisine, Berner noticed an inconsistency in the green-checked curtain. The frayed edges suggested vermin, which made him uneasy; one or two rats he could take care of, but he was ill-equipped to eradicate a larger population, and refused to consider inviting a so-called “exterminator” into his home. He investigated the portal, and remembered reading somewhere that rats were repelled by peppermint, so checked the spice rack but found it unexpectedly lacking. Grabbing the sage and oregano instead, he lined the edges of his living room floors with a dusting of the dried powdered leaves.

Having done this, he returned to his chicken and rumination. To his annoyance, the usual pleasant emerald flush of the room was interrupted by a buttery yellow beam of unobstructed sunlight. He could see particles of dust dancing in the column, which ended in a spot-lit circle on his hardwood floor. The sensory customs of his living room seemed to be rapidly changing; he regretted seasoning the floors. He again set down his dinner and grabbed a sewing needle, thread, and a green pocket square he hardly ever used. As he fitted the patch, he saw through the hole and caught sight of his long-estranged front yard. Yellow, overgrown, at once an arid wasteland and a fascinating ecological experiment, across the street from which someone walked into the one of the suburban side-paneled houses. A neighbor, presumably, but he had no idea how long they had lived there. It was an old woman, doubly accompanied by a walker and a pimply teenaged spotter. Berner watched their slow procession until the youth ditched the woman at the doorstep and returned to her own car. Taking a moment to observe the face of his neighbor’s house, he considered the coexistence of individuals, ignorant of their part in the Tumor, whose lives looked deceptively similar to his own. She even had the same bay window.

Berner stared. This woman had the admirable quality of imminent self-remission – she did not have to continue living as a cancerous cell for much longer. Indeed, she couldn’t participate, at least not without strenuous effort. His own efforts felt false in comparison, like he was lying about something. He cursed his vitality.

The sudden feeling of solidarity with this woman gave him pause in closing off the hole. Perhaps his décor would be complimented by a touch of yellow amid the green. It was a regal combination, he decided. Anyway, he might want to use that pocket square one day. He left the curtain hole unpatched. In the living room, he carefully ran a lint roller over his suit, selected a Vivaldi to settle into for the afternoon, closed his eyes and contemplated the scene he had just witnessed. He pictured his fragile neighbor, framed with dying yellow flora, flanked by her oblivious youthful companion. It reminded him of Botticelli’s Venus being blown by the Winds, riding on a shell made of aluminum with tennis balls on the bottom for traction. A far more apt image of perfection, he thought, human or divine. How many millennia, and thousands of religions, had attempted to depict a personified model of the ne plus ultra, and here it had been, in his front yard. For how far off the mark the Greeks and Romans were, it seemed they had come the closest. He thought of the Garden of Eden. How could God have been surprised? If there were a thousand Gardens of Eden, each with its own human microcosm, an Adam and Eve, a Harold and Bonnie, a Jerry and Mark, an Alice and Sabine– none would have been able to avoid being cast into oblivion. Exploitation was the most basic of human instincts. Freud almost had it, but sexualized it too much. Berner fell asleep to Vivaldi’s caresses and Freud’s reprimands, and dreamt that he was naked but for a fig leaf over his genitals, and carved from marble – a work of art. He was walking through a jungle, and came across a stately throne underneath the canopy, its ornateness pornographic in comparison with its surroundings. In it sat a proud looking woman, also naked, but a contrast to his smooth complexion; she was covered in cavernous wrinkles. He fell to his knees before her and crawled closer, close enough to kiss her feet, close enough to fall into the caverns…

*****

Today the delivery service was scheduled to drop off his weekly groceries. He had fashioned a drop box in the wall next to the bay window, through which deliveries could be sent without Berner ever having to see the delivery person. Berner, fastening his suit jacket and nestling his pocket square into its position, put on his Duke Ellington and selected a well-worn book from his shelf. He opened the book to somewhere midway through. Berner never liked to start reading a book from the beginning, and there were some books on his shelf of which Berner knew only the climax and declining action, preferring to deduce for himself the initial plot setup.

“And there is one sure thing about the fall of gods: they do not fall a little; they crash and shatter or sink deeply into green muck. It is a tedious job to build them up again; they never quite shine. And the child's world is never quite whole again. It is an aching kind of growing…”

Berner was frustrated to find himself unable to retain the words on the page, feeling his attention compelled away from the book and toward the bay window. His eyes strayed again to the chewed curtain hole and he found himself crouching by the window, his book dog-eared on the chair. She was sitting at a table in front of the bay window, laboriously eating breakfast. Even from a distance he could see the valiant effort she was devoting to her food. She brought each spoonful of semi-solid beige substance imperially to her mouth, her hand shaking noticeably even at a distance, occasionally dribbling down her front and wiping it away, dignified, with a linen napkin. He smiled at this and stood up to grab a pillow on which to more comfortably sit.

There was a tap at the window. Berner froze. His only direct exposure to the Tumor in years and already it was trying to infiltrate his home and chastise him! He stood still, waiting for the stranger to go away. The drop box by the window slid open toward him, bearing three full bags of frozen dinners. He stared. As he approached to retrieve his groceries, the outsider tapped on the glass again. He slammed the drop box shut loudly and took the bags to the Igloo to deposit his meals.

*****

To the individual who delivers my groceries,

Due to an unfortunate malady of the skin I am unable to open my curtains even a crack, for fear of exposing myself to direct sunlight. What you may have seen yesterday was in fact a dangerous encounter, resulting from my having stumbled and pulled on the curtains to prevent myself from falling; in my clumsiness I accidentally tore a hole in the curtain edge, a lapse for which I am currently paying dearly with unspeakable pain.

I am writing now to clarify my seemingly poor manners and assure you that civility does, in fact, dwell here. I wonder also, do you deliver to any other residences on this block? I hate to think that you venture out here solely on my behalf.

I hope this letter finds you well, and invite you to offer your response at your delivery next week, orally and in person, through the window (curtains closed of course). I look forward to our continued correspondence.

Kind regards,

L. Berner

           Thrilled at having written the first half of a conversation with another human being since his mother’s 75th birthday some years ago, Berner deposited the letter into the drop box and went back to his records to wait out the week. He was glad to have ample time before the conversation continued, preferring to limit his exposure to the carcinogenic public as much as his curiosity would permit.

           Berner relished his interactions with his neighbor. He had taken to looking in at her only at night, to prevent any more disturbances by those who may have seen him. This did not bother him, as the lights from inside offered a charming silhouette of her and her home in the surrounding dark. She graciously conducted most of her life, it seemed, at the table right in front of her bay window – he watched as she ate, read, wrote, took phone calls, or gazed, as he did, into the night. Everything she did was with such graceful acceptance not only of her own mortality but the absurdity that anyone should believe that life ends in anything but decay; her defiant transferal of forkfuls to her dying mouth, willing her body to make the choice – convert the food into energy to keep living or else wedge the food into her windpipe and suffocate her – Berner was moved.

           He wanted to see how she talked. Did she gesticulate? Did she make eye contact, or grimace when others spoke? Was her voice politely indifferent or overtly contemptuous? He knew what she must be thinking when others addressed her, for he had the same thoughts. He wanted to see the look on all of their faces when they realized how inferior to her they were.

           The week transpired and Berner prepared himself the following Monday to entertain his guest. Bathed in a cloud of 20-year-old Gucci cologne he sat by the curtain hole, having pried the window open hours prior to the delivery time to avoid gagging at the face-to-face contact. Gravel crunched beneath tires, and footsteps approached the drop box. He could hear the hesitation before stuffing the bags in. After a moment, frozen dinners in hand, he heard a tap on the window.

*****

“Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic?... Maybe you’re playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience…”

*****

           Berner’s suspicions were confirmed during the unremarkable conversation that followed; his neighbor, whose name was Cathy Tottenham, was indeed another recipient of the meal delivery service he patronized. The name was perfect – aristocratic. He wrote it down, and felt the letters drip from his pen like molten gold. He could almost hear it in her voice – You may call me Cathy. He needed to hear it, and for the rest of the world to hear it too, for it seemed a crime for anyone to go on in ignorance. This was his miracle cure – for his own disdain, yes, but also for the whole of humankind. This is what they should be emulating, this is what would save them from themselves. Cathy Tottenham, benign and unassuming, yet the first truly good thing put forth in recent human memory. Over the next several hours he combed his house for loose papers, stacked them neatly on the banquet table, and wrote her name at the top of each one. He dug out his phone book, and added the names and mailing addresses of the city’s prominent service providers: chiropractors, milkmen, moving companies, plumbers, windowpane sellers, journalists, pool installation companies, realtors, police, government officials. Beneath these, he set forth his predicament:

           Dear Mr. _____

I would like to request a formal consultation with your office/an initial prospective delivery be made/to schedule an appointment with one of your representatives at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, at my home address of 54 Adder St. Due to my declining health I am currently bedridden, and must therefore insist on house-calls – I am prepared to incur any additional transportation fees as well as any other compensation you or your representative may require. Thank you very much for your prompt service – I am confident that my patronage is well-placed!

Kind regards,

Ms. C. Tottenham

           Berner creased each of the papers in a meticulous tri-fold, sealed and stamped the envelopes, and sent them through the drop box. He was breathless.

           He sat in the chair by his Crosley all night, staring at the curtain hole but not through it this time. He awoke to the sound of a scratching record needle at the end of its track and an unfamiliar din of voices from outside. Anxiously he approached the curtain hole. Hundreds of uniformed service people, professionals in suit and tie, people wearing hazmat suits, and a local news reporter and cameraman all stood outside his window – a worthy crowd! He heard the faint sound of an ambulance’s siren, and registered with mild interest that perhaps someone had been trampled in the chaos. How easily he had dictated their lives! They, who had no idea of his existence let alone their own doomed metastasis. How predictable they were! What had these oncologists been doing all these years, when cancerous cells could simply be willed into one place with a polite written invitation? Here they were, an amassed target, about to come face-to-face with their curative biopsy: Ms. Tottenham. She was the radiation treatment humanity needed, and he had given it to them.

           Berner opened his eyes. The green- and yellow-tinted living room was muted in the darkness, but was permeated by a foreign red. The light penetrated loudly through the curtain hole, and the sound of the siren played in sharper focus. He looked through the hole…

His tears gleamed in the ambulance’s flashing red lights. He watched the EMTs role a gurney into the vehicle, slowly, without urgency, a sheet pulled over the passenger’s face, apparently not realizing the significance of their vessel. He needed them to know. Berner pushed his Crosley in front of the bay window, opened the door, and prepared to wade into the sea of malignant tissue. For her.

[dcnativegal]

Grace, and its twin sister, Gratitude

Two days before Thanksgiving, and 2 days after driving home from Saint Helena California, I went to our writers group in Paisley, called Easy Writers. After we shared various bits we’d written, we had our writing prompt. Gratitude. So, I wrote this.

“One cannot go straight to gratitude if there is a deep anger that hasn’t been recognized, bowed to respectfully, and aired. Let the wind fan the flames. Let the anger burn to ashes, quietly, but with all due crackles.

             Brush the ashes away.

Then build a chair out of the gifts that were always there, though hidden. Even if there is only one gift, that you were conceived and born.

             Sit in the chair you have built.

             Forgive that which has burned and is no more.

             Finally, rest in gratitude.

I just returned from a retreat in which I worked on a series of steps – from awareness to anger, then to compassion and forgiveness. If I’m asked to reflect on Gratitude, I think, I am still and always forgiven, and I am so very grateful for that. I am grateful I’ve survived this far. That there were positive legacies from my parents, alongside the deprivation.

That I can let go of anger, as well as patterns that I inherited but don’t have to perpetuate. (Like self-loathing. I really don’t need that pattern.)

And I also know that forgiveness requires actual labor to be born, complete with screams and tears.

             And then the result is a new life called Grace, and her twin sister,

Gratitude.”

+++++++++++++

My spirit guide needs coffee.

I spent 7 days in Napa Valley at a nonprofit retreat space in White Sulphur Springs in Napa County. I’d signed up for The Hoffman Process, paid for by my sister who’d just been through the Process in August. Her husband did it in October. We three have been Hoffmanized.

What does that mean exactly? Well, at one point I was sitting uncomfortably on the floor with a yellow whiffle bat in my hands, beating a large pillow, and chanting to myself “There is enough. Enough God. Enough Love, Enough food, Enough money. I am enough. I will honor You by thriving.” I know that I was chanting this because I stopped and wrote it down while 36 other fellow humans were pounding away all around me. We were SUPPOSED to be beating out negative patterns that we’d either inherited during our childhoods from our parents (and surrogate parents if we had any), or that we’d adopted in strict opposition to parental behavior. In my case, I adopted habits of observing my depressed mother very closely: that power of observation of humans serves me very well as a therapist. But I also adopted her habit of self-loathing. So I ‘bashed’ my self-loathing. And a bunch of other stuff. (We made a list of 25 WORST patterns for each parent!) So, I was seeking something positive. That’s where the There is ENOUGH came in. I guess you could call it an affirmation. And it came spontaneously to me.

It was an emotionally challenging week; at times, exhausting. We were to consult our emotional selves, our Intellect selves, our Spiritual selves, and a Spirit Guide. My Spirit Guide was pretty quiet. He was basically monosyllabic. But they were good syllables: Trust. Hope.  Pretty key for my week.

We did a lot of guided visualizations. I pictured my emotional self as about 8 years old, often with arms crossed and a pouty face. And a potty mouth. “This is bullshit” she’d say. Or, “this won’t work, I’m still unlovable.” Basically an attitude early in the week of “Everybody hates me, nobody likes me, guess I’ll go eat dirt.” In fact, I had to metaphorically unplug my powerful, well-calibrated Bullshit Detector early on, thank it for its faithful service, and put it a suitcase in the car. I figured, I trust my sister and she’s invested 5 grand to send me here. These people seem okay. I need help, so I better dig in and hope for the best. One woman expressed what some of us were thinking: when do we drink the Kool Aid? Nervous laughter. Turned out, we were in Napa County so it was more like a non-alcoholic Zinfindel, a liquid Hope. I think every one of us drank that, and left feeling as though we really could be happier, more heart- and spirit-centered, more service-oriented, less guarded and stuck.  

We were reassured by a sign on the wall that said, You cannot fail the process.

Some of ‘the process’ felt like an emotional archaeological dig, using first jackhammers, and then delicate brushes. We remembered our childhoods, going back to scenes in memories. The purpose was to look for the roots, the taproots, of poisonous weeds and pull them out. And then get rid of them. We actually made posters of images and words that hold us back. Then in a ceremony, we threw them in a fireplace, and declared our new found intentions. Mine was: I am lovable, and I am beautiful. I still feel lovable. The beautiful is only in Valerie’s eyes, and not in my own, but that’s okay.

My feelings of sadness were dispelled pretty quickly at this place, and replaced by anxious hopefulness. As I survived more of the process, with the support of the teachers, my small group members, and some of the friends I was making, the anxiety went down. All of us were learning new tools to apply to the old behaviors. There were boxes of tissues in every space, and they were emptied and replaced. The assembled crew was 9 males, 28 females, ranging from a wide-eyed child of 24 to a grizzled Mr. Crankypants of 73 who’d be awarded a trophy of “most opened” if there were such a thing.

The Hoffman Process has been honed by 50 years of experimentation. There was a great deal of familiar (to me) psychological theory at work during the week. No therapy is 100% effective for everyone.  But when we shared stories of what got us to this 7-day adventure, people mentioned how they had noticed that a “Hoffman Grad” was different when they got home: happier, calmer, nicer. One woman told a story of a store owner who’d served a particularly bitchy customer for years. One day, Miss Bitchy came in and was nice and courteous and patient. Finally, store owner told her she noticed how much happier she seemed. Miss Transformed said, The Hoffman Process.

Apparently Bonnie Raitt did it years ago, and John Denver. Other famous folks, too, including a beautiful actress Thandie Newton, perhaps best known for the movie, Crash.

The Hoffman Process even has a Spotify channel, a soundtrack to the week. The music was played strategically, and was highly effective. At one point it was used for fun. After another long evening of reflection, we were asked to lie on our backs with our heads toward the center of the circle. We lay there with our eyes closed until they said open. The ceiling was full of lights that looked like galaxies moving, and John Lennon’s Imagine played. We all sang along and most of us (except for maybe Mr. Most Opened) knew every word. Magical.

We had name tags with our childhood nicknames on it until a great reveal the evening before the final day. We were encouraged not to tell our professions. And no wifi or cell phone for 6 of the 7 days. Our ceremony of revelation was really something: a slow parade of people who told us what they do for a living, and what their real names are. Toad became Todd. Schmoot became Lauren. Teep became Stephen. I went from Janie to Jane. And I’m an addiction counselor and psychotherapist to a very rural and poor part of an Eastern Oregon county.

++++

On the last night I was in Saint Helena, we who were staying the night after our last workshop had to go forage for food in the town. About 15 of us morphed and reshuffled into groups based on available cars and culinary pickiness. We parked near one place, and I told my driver friend I was off to get cash at an ATM. I did that, and rejoined the biggest clump of people, noticing that my driver friend was not around, but figured maybe she went off with the other participant. Half of us marched in the cold behind someone who’d heard of a fun place. We got there, it was outdoors, although with heat lamps, and again half said we’ll stay, so we remaining 4 ordered elaborate hamburgers (mine was vegetarian). I’m mostly done with my burger and who should show up, but the driver and our friend. They’d been looking for me all this time! Once they located me, they said well okay then, we’re going to find someplace warmer. Off they went, and one of my Hoffie dinner friends says, Don’t feel guilty, Janie. ACK. I did feel guilty.  I ran straight into one of my patterns: that no one notices me because I am not worth noticing.  Finally, they gave up on finding any other place, joined us, and we shared our sweet potato fries. Everyone told me to nip the guilt in the bud. Like Maya Angelou once said, when you know better you do better. Now I know better. I am not invisible. I belong just as well and just as awkwardly as everyone else. The Process came to the fore right then in real time.

I talked to my sister about this, and although she is way more beautiful and smarter than I am, she has this same tendency; to assume that she is not important. She looked at that pattern during her Process, too. She reminded me how much we were on our own in our family, with dad providing for us by working two jobs and mother struggling with her mental health. We were not read to, or asked about our day. Oh poor us, I know: we were fed and sheltered. But we picked up somehow that we were to be dragged along and not make a fuss. I was surprised my sister has this pattern too. We are going to keep bashing it until we allow ourselves to count more, in some humble way, if we have something to contribute. Which I knew we both do.

             For the record, The Hoffman Process is done in Napa Valley, Connecticut, Australia and England. They have scholarships. It makes a whole lot of sense to do the Process if you are feeling stuck in patterns of behavior or thoughts that are keeping you from being fully your best self, ready every day to heal the world. If you sign up, you will be surrounded by accomplished people who are for the most part much wealthier than you are (if you’re like me. Say, a social worker, and bad with money.) But the fact that we hid our professions equalized us, and we became a motley collection of seekers with an unbelievable amount of pain inside each of us.

             I started the week scanning the crowd for who was fat like me, who would judge me for being plain. The richer the folk, the skinner and more conventionally attractive. As the week went on, I was embraced and recognized. For, guess what, yeah you guessed it, my sense of humor and my knitting. There were two queer people there whom I zoomed in on right quick. I had someone to talk to at dinner (when it wasn’t a silent dinner.) By the end of the week, I had gone to the hot tub in all my fleshiness, taught a beautiful young surfer how to knit, and hated myself a little less.

Here’s a poem from our workbook, which was filled with poems and quotations:

You are not broken;

Childhood suffering is not a mortal wound,

And it did not irrevocably shape your destiny.

 You need not remove,

Destroy,

Or tear anything out of yourself in order

to build something new.

 Your challenge is not to keep trying to repair what was damaged;

Your practice instead is to reawaken

what is already wise, strong,

And whole within you,

To cultivate those qualities of heart and spirit

That are available to you in this very moment.

 By Wayne Muller, Legacy of the Heart: The Spiritual Advantages of a Painful Childhood.

 That particular bit of writing goes against the Process philosophy that something unhealthy must indeed be torn ‘out of yourself in order to build something new.’  But it’s all metaphorical anyway.  Here’s another one that I think we can all agree on:

The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect,

He becomes an adolescent.

The day he forgives them,

He becomes an adult;

The day he forgives himself,

He becomes wise.

             By Alden Nowlan

 I am grateful to be a little wiser. And I will working on forgiving myself, and loving myself as best I can until those are stronger muscles of self care. Then perhaps I can be of more and better service in the world, and feel a deeper joy. Life is short. Feel joy first.