#but god they’ve broken my heart so many times in the 10+ years we’ve known each other

[meowcentral]

i received an olive branch from someone who really severely broke my heart today and I’m conflicted

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (21/21)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be.

And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: So this long, angsty, sometimes happy story has come to an end, and I have to thank all of you for reading with me along the way even though some of you swore that you wouldn’t. lol. But you made it, and I hope you enjoy this last chapter to wrap everything up💙

We’ve got one final flashback, and it’s a long time coming!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

Killian dives under the water, tightly shutting his eyes to keep the salt out, before jumping back up to the surface and leaping over to tug on Henry’s legs as he kicks out at him in an attempt to get away. They’ve been lounging around in the ocean for a solid two hours, their skin wrinkled at the fingertips and toes – not that his skin isn’t already a bit wrinkled – and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world as he chases after Henry and continually keeps him from getting too far away. It helps that Henry’s got a small paddle board sans the paddle strapped to his ankle so he can’t move as quickly as he normally would be able to if he were swimming. Then again, the lad is also nearing twelve this summer, and while he’s grown quite a bit recently, he’s still far shorter than Killian is.

He never had a chance.

“Dad,” Henry gasps when Killian grabs onto his ankle and pulls him back to his stomach as small waves tumble over toward them and fade out into whitewater, “that’s not fair.”

“I gave you a head start,” he protests, angling Henry’s board toward the shore since they’re already out further than they should be and need to head back. “Are you getting hungry? I’m absolutely starving.”

“I could be hungry if we’re having grilled cheese.”

“You are just like your mum.”

“They’re good.”

“Not when you use the artificial cheese.”

“That’s the best kind.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m right.”

“You are not.” “Agree to disagree.”

Killian clicks his tongue as he starts guiding them closer in, wrapping his arm over Henry’s back and kicking his legs out as he swims. “You really are just like your mum if you’re saying phrases like that.”

“She works at my school. I can’t get away from her, and now you’re saying I sound like her. I can’t win.”

“Do not say that around her,” he gently warns as they get a little closer to shore so that he can see Emma building a sandcastle with Ada near their umbrella so that she still has her eyes on Nathan as he sleeps in his seat. Seven-month-olds aren’t exactly huge fans of the beach, but when it’s a summer day and no one has work or school, they’re not about to pass any of this up when they now live a few feet away from the ocean.

They moved to Boothbay a little less than two years ago after everything happened. He and Emma hadn’t wanted to live in Portland anymore, couldn’t live in their house, and as much as he hated to leave the place where so many of the great moments of his life happened, he knew that it was the right decision. They went through hell as a family, and even though picking up and moving to a new place is no way to solve issues, it was a start for them. They thought about leaving that summer, but he and Emma both decided that they would let Henry stay in his school for one more year so he didn’t have to deal with anymore upheaval in his life. He was going through a lot without the emotional capabilities to handle it, and they weren’t about to take him away from his friends and his family. But when they’d brought up the idea of moving, even if it is only two hours away, he’d been excited. Killian still thinks that Henry mostly wanted to move because they told him they’d be living in a house on the beach instead of one in a suburb, but honestly, the kid is happy now. That’s all that matters.

His family’s happiness is all that’s ever mattered to him, and even though there are days when he’s pissed at Emma, frustrated with Henry, and struggles dealing with Ada and Nathan, he treasures that happiness more than anything in the world.

No part of him takes any kind of happiness for granted.

Not his own, not his children’s, not his wife’s.

Wife.

The word still almost feels foreign to him despite he and Emma having gotten married two and a half years ago during an absolute torrential downpour in August. For him to have had the ring for nearly an entire year before he got to use it, the engagement and wedding sure as hell did happen quickly.

-/-

-/-

“Babe,” Emma calls.

“Babe.”

“Killian.”

“Killian,” Emma huffs, pressing her hand into his shoulder and pushing him a little on the bed until he opens his eyes, wondering why the hell Emma is jostling him awake when he’s getting to sleep in for once in his life.

“If you’re waking me up for morning sex, I’m going to need a minute or two.”

“Oh my gosh,” she groans, sitting down on the mattress next to him and moving down until her cheek is right next to his, her ass moving the mattress enough to jostle him a little bit more awake so that he twists his head to fully look at her while his hand lazily finds her thigh underneath the cover, squeezing the warm, bare skin a bit before resting it there, “no. I’m not waking you up for sex.”

“Pity.”

“Maybe later if you don’t bother me too much today.”

“Is that a promise?” he smirks, knowing that Emma most likely thinks he looks a little more ragged than handsome this morning.

“It’s a maybe,” she laughs, dipping her head down until he feels her lips against his forehead.

It’s still early, far too early, and if he knows anything about his surroundings today, it’s that the sun hasn’t made its way into the sky, the air outside still shrouded in darkness. And for Emma to be up this early on a Saturday without having been woken up by Henry or Ada, it’s basically a once in a lifetime day.

But she’s happy. He notices that too. Her face is bare of all makeup, freckles smattering across her nose, and he can see the blonde tips of her lashes that are often hidden by mascara. And her hair is a mess, the curls around her face a little more prominent, and her teeth look especially white against the tanned skin this summer has brought her.

They’ve been in a dark place since May, and even though Emma has made an effort to have things go on as normal, they haven’t.

Getting over what Neal did to them is such a slow process, one that he’s sure will manifest itself as different challenges and issues for the rest of their lives, and though it’s been easier for about a month and a half now, he still often can’t fall asleep at night because his mind runs through everything. Mostly he thinks about Emma and Henry, how they’re dealing with it, and that’s exactly what keeps him up.

They’re…he and Emma are good, though. He thinks that they may be better than they’ve ever been. It’s certainly not like it once was when they were dating and thinking about the prospect of having Ada. It’s different, but he thinks that it’s better. There’s more trust between them, more faith too, and after a year of sometimes feeling like they weren’t even playing the same game, he thinks that they’re solidly on the same team.

Co-captains.

He loves her, and he can’t ever imagine anything changing that. And if something tries, he won’t let it.

She’s happy.

He’s happy.

They’re happy in spite of everything, but this morning it’s almost as if there’s a different light around Emma than the one that usually stays with her.

“So tell me, my love,” he sighs, inching his hand a little higher on her thigh to tease her skin while he tilts his head up to look at her, “if not because I am simply so irresistible, why are you waking me up this morning?”

“Ada took her first real steps this morning.”

“What?”

“Ada. She took her first steps.”

“When?” he chuckles, moving up on the bed so that he can look at Emma a little more clearly, his chin resting in the dip between her breasts. “How long have you been awake?”

“At, like, two this morning. Her monitor went off, and I couldn’t get her to stop crying. I guess she was just really hungry since she didn’t really eat dinner last night, so I fed her and then we played for a few minutes, and she took her steps.”

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, throwing the blanket off of him and rising from the bed, tugging up at his pajama pants and adjusting his t-shirt as his heart beats wildly in his chest, excitement heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Babe,” Emma laughs, sitting up on the bed and moving the remaining blankets off of herself so he can see the skin of her legs, not that he’s really paying that much attention to them anyways. That’s a once in a lifetime thing. “Killian,” she giggles, probably at the fact that he got out of bed so quickly and is now standing in place with his hands in his hair while Emma sits further up on her knees, “what in the world are you doing?”

“She took her first steps?” he questions, the disbelief still running through him. Ada’s been nearly there for months now, seemingly always staying the cruising stage, and she took her first steps. God, he can’t…his little love continuously reaching new little milestones that are always so miraculous as he watches her develop.

He can’t believe he missed these too.

Emma smiles, and even though he already knew the answer, that’s all of the reassurance that he needed.

He’s obviously not thinking straight, his mind all over the place, but he’s so damn happy that all he can think to do is bend down and wrap his arms around Emma, pulling her up and off the bed so that he legs dangle in the air while she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck while he gets a better grip holding her under her ass. It’s definitely not the most coordinated thing in the world, but he doesn’t care as Emma’s legs wrap around his waist with her ankles crossing at her back while he slams his lips into hers, capturing her laugh and any other words she had to say as he slowly sways them back and forth in their room, not daring to move with his eyes closed.

He can feel Emma’s smile through the kiss.

“I’m going to tell Ada to walk more often if I get that reaction out of you.”

“A bloody brilliant plan that.”

Emma laughs again, and he nips at her upper lip before pulling back and peppering kisses across her face while pleasurable shivers run down his spine with how she’s playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She hums then, and when he pulls back, he takes the opportunity to start walking them out of the room.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“My daughter took her first steps, love. I want to see her do it again.”

“She’s asleep.”

He pinches her ass before carefully opening the door. “I know.”

“Killian, I swear, do not wake her up. She’s going to be cranky if you wake her up, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the woman who woke me up to tell me this.”

“It’s big news, but I just got her back down.”

“Aye.” He nods, the reality of what she’s saying sinking in as he thinks of what their day will be like if they get Ada to be all riled up when she needs sleep. “You’re right. I’m just…I got a little overexcited there.”

“Well, you do tend to have the opposite thing happen to you when you’re woken up.”

He chuckles and turns them around in the hallway, his arms aching the slightest bit from having held Emma for so long. She’s a slight little thing, but even Ada gets too heavy to carry after he’s held her for too long. When he makes it back to the bedroom, he flips the switch to turn the light on their ceiling fan on, casting the room in a bright white light, before gently placing Emma down onto the bed, letting her fall back on her elbows with her hair falling down her back while she smiles up at him.

Somehow, he can feel the smile in his own cheeks.

And it all hits him suddenly. His daughter, the one who was once no more than seven pounds and could do little more than cry, is walking on her own, even if it’s only a step or two. His son is turning nine next month. He’s been with Emma for five years, and he turned thirty eight at the end of May.

Life is moving on.

For a long while, it stood still, the insanity swirling around them and causing a thick haze that no one could see through, but they made their way through it eventually even if some of the haze still surrounds them. But they keep walking, keep moving forward, and suddenly he doesn’t want to wait another moment to find the perfect moment when there has never been a more perfect moment than right now.

“Darling, wait right there.”

He doesn’t let her respond before he’s quickly moving the few steps to the closet and turning to grab the box out of his uniform pocket, the blue velvet smooth under his fingertips as a smile forms on his face, all of the nerves he thought he would feel nowhere to be seen as he pops the box open and removed the ring, holding it in the palm of his hand. He’s got no clue what he’s going to say, how he’s going to ask, so when he gets back into the bedroom to see Emma still in the same place with her brows raised high on her forehead, he simply steps in front of her and gets down on one knee on the hardwood floor.

If Emma’s brows could get any higher, they would, both of them practically in her hairline, but as quickly as they rise, they also lower to their normal spot all the while the corners of her lips curve into a smile that makes the green of her eyes nearly disappear.

But just nearly.

“Yes,” she blurts out, the word loud and yet somehow a quiet whisper in the room.

He chuckles, wanting to close his eyes with his laughter but not wanting to look away. “Emma, you have to let a man ask.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m – ”

“I know, love. I know.” She’s getting ahead of herself, just like he did this morning, and that seems to be a habit of theirs. He doesn’t mind. “Emma, my love, the first time I saw you in that damned bar and made you laugh, I had absolutely no idea that we were going to go through so much together, that we were going to have this life and our kids and each other, that you were going to give me the greatest parts of my life, that you  would be the greatest part of my life. I love you more than anything, and while I can’t guarantee anything else, I can guarantee that I will always, always be by your side. So what do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Of course, yes. Killian,” she sighs leaning forward and grabbing his face until her lips are on his, an insistent press that is somehow the lightest touch he has ever felt. He’s kissed Emma more times than he can count, had her lips softly gliding over his every day for years now, but right now he can barely contain himself over how much everything is different and yet very much the same. “I will marry you, and I will be right there by your side annoying you every step of the way.”

A laugh escapes him, and he presses forward to brush his lips over the corner of hers, unable to keep himself from covering every inch of her warm skin with his lips as all of the turmoil and heartache disappears and he can only feel joy that rivals the day Ada was born or the day that Henry called him his dad for the first time.

Or maybe every other moment that he’s had with Emma.

“I love you,” she whispers, pressing her forehead into his while her hands reach up to clutch his face.

“I love you,” he echoes, wishing he had the words to express his love more than those three words do. He reaches up to grab her left hand from his face, pulling it down to rest between them as he quickly slides the ring onto her finger, marveling at the fact that it’s finally in the place that it should be. “You and the kids are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

“I mean, I already knew that.”

“Stop,” Emma laughs, falling back against the bed while he gets up from the ground to place his hands on either side of her head, dipping his head down to kiss her neck, spending a bit of time there while Emma’s laughs turn into gasps. He rather likes that. “Oh, I think I changed my mind about the morning sex.”

“Proposing did it for you then?”

“I mean, I was already considering it, but I do think that encouraged me the smallest bit.”

“Well, I will take what I can get.”

“You’ve always been a man of standards.”

He winks. “I try.”

Later, when they’re sated and their hair is a little messier than before, his skin still tingling from the way Emma felt wrapped around him, he finds the strength to rise from the bed when he hears Henry walk past their bedroom, obviously having woken up and probably wanting breakfast.

“I can go feed Henry,” Emma mumbles, rising from the bed and pulling on a t-shirt to cover her breasts while she quickly combs her hair back into a bun, which really doesn’t do anything to hide the fact that they were just intimate, but it’s not as if Henry will know, especially not with a new ring on her finger he’s sure she’ll be talking about. “If memory serves, there’s a little girl who you were very excited to see much earlier this morning.”

“I can make breakfast, love.”

“No,” Emma insists, pressing up on her toes to brush her lips over his cheek once, twice, three times, “I will. I think today deserves celebrating with something good and unhealthy that you would never let us have.”

“I think I could make an exception today.”

“Still. I can do it.”

He nods in agreements, and when she turns around to walk away, he quickly reaches down to grab her ass, making her giggle as she turns around to briefly look at him before walking out of the room with the slightest shake of her head.

That woman is going to be his wife.

He’s the luckiest man.

After getting dressed back in his pajamas, he quietly makes his way down the hallways and into the nursery, finding Ada standing against the railing with her brown hair standing up in so many different ways that he knows she got it from him and the weird cowlicks that he has.

“Dada,” she squeals, her face lighting up in a way that will never fail to amaze him that someone so little loves him so much.

“Good morning, sweetheart. You been keeping your mummy up at weird times?”

“No,” she giggles, her favorite word as of late. He picks her up out of the crib and kisses her cheeks, making her giggle more. “No, no, no.”

“Oh come on, I think you did. And you walked too? It’s been a very big morning in this house.”

“No.”

“But it is,” he insists, standing her up on the changing table. “Your mummy told me she wants to marry me, my love bug.”

-/-

-/-

They’d gotten engaged after far too long of a time, and Emma told him that she didn’t want to wait anymore, that there was no point in delaying something that they both wanted to do. So with the help of Mary Margaret, planner extraordinaire, they planned a small wedding to happen in the backyard of Ruth’s house before Henry went back to school and Emma went back to work. Except it rained so much that everything happened in the living room, decorations haphazardly placed in the spots where the furniture had been carried to other rooms. It was a mess, but it was as close to perfect as he ever could have imagined. Liam, Belle, and Caleb decided to fly in from England, Belle absolutely insistent that she would not miss the wedding, and he finally got to meet his nephew who is now his favorite little man to get to video chat at least twice a week. David applied for a license online to marry them, and even though Emma laughed for a solid ten minutes at the image of David marrying them, she did come around to the idea.

He asked Henry to be his best man, told him it was one of the most important jobs for him to have after being a good big brother, and they let Ada be their flower girl even if it was an absolute disaster since she nearly fell every other step. He’d had to walk toward her and lean down in front of her at the end of their makeshift aisle and clap to her to continue her walking. She’d just taken those infamous first steps four weeks prior, and it was definitely still a work in progress. Emma had been standing at the back of the room in her dress, a small lacy thing that hugged her chest and flowed from her hips, and she hadn’t been able to help herself from quickly walking toward him and helping to encourage Ada to walk until she got to the end of the aisle with a small basket full of the flower petals they completely expected her to drop the moment she was handed it.

The entire thing was imperfect, crazy, and yet it was the most intimate moment of his life as he got to officially commit himself to Emma for the rest of his days.

He loves her with every beat of his heart, and while it’s never been easy, even in the days of flirting and teasing, they have fought for the love that they share because they both know it’s been worth it. He’ll never be one to claim that falling in love and getting married solves problems and brings utter happiness because that’s simply not true. Fights and petty arguments happen, disagreements over how to raise children occur, and heated discussions over what to have for dinner happen frequently. But that’s what happens when you share your life with someone else.

The disagreements, though, are always smaller than the love and happiness, and he’s thankful that he’s got this woman by his side who is his partner in all things.

And they’ve got three kids who they love more than anything.

Killian officially adopted Henry after they got married, and even though it required legally working with Neal, it was still one of the best decisions he’s ever made. The fact that Henry asked for it makes it all the sweeter. The kid has always been his son, and adoption or not, that was never going to change. Nathan arrived back in October two weeks before Emma’s birthday, and while they had planned him, it was still somehow a shock to have another little one in his arms.

(Changing the little lad’s diaper was a bit of a shock too since he was used to Ada and wasn’t around for changing a lot of Henry’s diapers.)

But a good shock.

And his little love Ada isn’t quite as little anymore, even if she’s a bit on the small side and takes after her mother in nearly every way but her hair and the indent of her chin, as she’s now four and more full of life than he ever thought possible. She talks, just all of the time, and he’s not sure if he can quite keep up with her. When he can’t, she makes sure to tell him, placing her hands on her hips and staring at him with furrowed brows until he catches up with whatever creation she’s making or story she’s telling.

He’s got good kids.

And a beautiful wife who works as a high school vice principal now while he spends his days managing the harbor for the town since they have such traffic for their boat tours and shipping. It doesn’t pay as much as his last job, but the cost of living here is cheaper. Mostly, though, he’s happy in his job, and it doesn’t make him constantly feel like he’s at war both physically and with himself.

Happy.

That’s the word he keeps coming back to.

For so long, their word was normalcy. All they wanted was for everything to go back to normal. After everything, they’re happy. They still have their difficult days, all of them still in therapy and still struggling some days, but they’re happy.

“Daddy,” Ada yells from the shore, getting up and nearly kicking over the tower on her sandcastle much to Emma’s dismay, “I want to go surfing too.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to surf, love bug,” he sighs, unstrapping Henry’s ankle wrap so that he can stand up on his own. “We only have this paddleboard.”

“Mommy said it was a surfboard.”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and raises her hands in the air while her lips press into her skin and her brows raise. “That’s my bad. I forgot the name for it. I was stuck somewhere between boogie board and surf board, so I feel like I was close enough.”

“Not really,” Henry adds in.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m never right. I get it.”

“Daddy,” Ada whines again as she runs up to him and wraps her arms around his calf, weighing him down so that he has to kick up to walk, “please. I want to.”

He glances over to Emma to see what she has to say since they really need to get back up to the house, and when she nods her head, he reaches down and picks Ada up to rest on his hip as he grabs Henry’s paddleboard, which they have been decidedly not using the paddle for. Henry just got the thing last week, and they’re still working on coordination.

“Five minutes,” he tells Ada, pulling at her braided pigtails while wading out until he’s waist deep in the water.

“That’s not very long.”

“Well, we’ve got to get inside to get food in your tummy.”

“I like food.”

“You and me both.”

He steadies the board on the nearly still water before sitting Ada down on it. He already knows that she’s going to topple over into the ocean, but her lips are pursed in that way that she gets from Emma that means she’s determined to do something.

“Alright, love,” he tells her as he stands her up, one hand wrapped around her stomach while the other stays steady on the board, “you have to stay still and suck in your tummy like you do on the balance beam at gymnastics, yeah?”

“I know.” “Oh, well if you know then.”

“I do. You have a lot of hair on your tummy, Daddy.”

“Your mummy likes that hair.” “That’s weird.”

“No, it’s not. I like the hair on you head.”

Ada sighs while he gently moves her around as he keeps her wobbly legs from falling as much as he can. She’s such a little spitfire, and that’s not at all what he was expecting for how calm of a baby she was.

It’s payback for something. It has to be.

“But it’s on my head and not on my tummy. Mommy doesn’t have hair on her tummy. You’re like a bear.”

He laughs underneath his breath before he lets go of the board to run his fingers over Ada’s stomach, making her giggle and lose her footing until she falls onto the board, the air escaping her for a moment as she lands on her bottom. He stands her up once more, but she never quite gets over her giggling fit, so he makes the executive decision that their time is up and they can go inside. Grabbing Ada, her props her up on his shoulders and grabs the board so they can walk back up onto the sand where Emma and Henry are already packing up their things.

“Nathanial, my man, why are you not helping out?” “Babe,” Emma groans, throwing her head back as she puts some of Nathan’s toys in his bag, “his name is not Nathanial. It’s Nathan, and we call him Nate. I don’t know why you insist on calling him Nathanial like he’s a little old man from two centuries ago.”

He plops Ada down on the ground with the paddleboard. “Because it bothers you, my darling wife,” he sighs, dipping his head enough so that he can slide his lips over hers, the taste of salt water and a little bit of sunscreen consuming him. “And I believe I promised to bother you every single day in my vows.”

“That is not at all what happened.”

“It’s not,” Henry adds in, walking up to her with his float wrapped around his waist and his hair lying flat on his head. “You guys said the normal vows or whatever because I remember you talked about it forever.”

“Hey now, lad, you were very excited for your mum and I get to married. You can’t act like you weren’t.”

“Yeah, but I was nine, and I didn’t realize how gross you two were then.”

Emma looks at him, and he shrugs, his brows waggling across his forehead. Such a pre-teen. “Ada bug, why don’t you go give your big brother a kiss?”

“Please no,” Henry whines, already closing his eyes while Ada nods her head and practically pounces on Henry, scrambling up into his arms until she’s placing a smattering of wet, sloppy kisses all over Henry’s face. He always acts like he hates it, but he doesn’t. Even when he’s moody because his siblings are so much younger than him and he has to watch children’s shows, he would do absolutely anything for his younger siblings.

He’s a good kid. The best kid who he absolutely loves with his entire heart.

“Henry,” Ada giggles, “stop tickling me.”

“Stop kissing me.”

“Fine,” Ada huffs until Killian is grabbing her out of Henry’s arms and resting her on his hip as both Emma and Nate laugh behind them. “Daddy, can we go get food now?”

“Absolutely, my love. You have to go pack up your things, though, okay? Pick up all of the toys.”

It takes far longer to clean up all of their things than it should, but that always seems to happen whenever they let the kids help with things like that. It’s so much easier to do things themselves, but Henry and Ada have to know to clean up their own things. And they’re not on a timeline today anyways, so it’s fine as they take their time getting everything together and walking back up to the house. As always, getting Ada showered in their outdoor shower is a struggle with her squirming away from the cold water, but he’s got to get the sand off of her before she tracks it through the house.

That happened once, and he swears the rug in the living room has never quite been the same.

“Mom, can we have grilled cheese for lunch?” Henry asks after they’ve all showered and changed into dry clothes. Emma’s simply in her pajamas, one of his t-shirts and a pair of loose shorts, and he can see her hair already curling as it dries down her back. It’s gotten curlier since they moved here, and he quite likes the way it snaps back into place after he runs his fingers through it. “I really want grilled cheese.”

“Sure. Your dad will make it because I have to feed Nate.”

“No,” Henry and Ada yell at once, and he can’t help the little sting of insult that rushes through him. “He makes it with the weird cheeses,” Henry finishes, repeating their conversation from earlier.

“I will only make it with the cheese you guys like,” he promises with a roll of his eyes as he picks Nate up from his playmat and hands him over to Emma, “but you guys also have to eat some kind of vegetable.”

“I like carrots.”

“Okay, we’ll just go with the orange foods today then.”

He turns some music on his phone, one of his playlists that he knows doesn’t have cursing in it, and plays it over a little speaker they keep in the kitchen while both Ada and Henry sit at the island scrolling through an iPad as they play whatever game they’ve agreed on lately. Emma is sitting with Nate in the living room, and when he turns around, he can easily see her. That’s one of his favorite things about this house, the openness of it all. Their entire downstairs is basically one large room with a bathroom hidden in the back, and it makes everything seem much larger despite this house being smaller than their last one. Most of their old furniture remains, the same gray couch and loveseat with the brightly colored armchair all sitting in the living room with a white and gray striped rug (the one Ada stained) underneath it. The television rests above a white brick fireplace, and it’s all backed up to a few floor-to-ceiling windows that give a view of the ocean. There are curtains that they close at night or when they want privacy, but rarely does he want to not have the view of the water.

A part of him would like to say the house is clean, but Nathan’s toys are scattered everywhere no matter how often they’re put away in their bins, Ada’s joining them, and even though Henry mostly keeps his things in his room, occasionally some of his belongings will make their way downstairs. It’s definitely a home that’s lived in, and he can get over his far too rigid ways for that.

There are too many awful, difficult things in the world for him to be constantly worrying about everything being clean all the time even if cleanliness is something he’s trying to instill in his children.

It’s a balancing act.

He finishes cooking for everyone, cutting up the sandwiches in everyone’s preferred ways and piling the plates with vegetables before sliding over the plates and cups of water to Ada and Henry, hoping that Ada won’t manage to spill her water. After they’re fed, he takes Emma’s plate over to her and places it on the end table so that she can eat too. He’ll fix himself something later once the smell of processed cheese is out of the air.

Nathan starts whining, the beginnings of a cry that he recognizes and usually dreads.

“Oh no, kid,” Emma sighs when he unlatches and his wails get a little louder. She gets up from the chair, pulling her t-shirt down in the process, and starts walking him around. “Don’t cry. We’re happy, aren’t we? We just ate, Nate. Ooh that rhymes, see? You should like rhyming. You probably don’t get it, but that fine.”

His wails calm down to quiet sniffles as Emma sways him back and forth to the sound of the music, dancing with their son until he quiets down. He’s a good baby, a little fussier than Ada was, but he’s generally pretty happy. It helps that this is their first child where nothing crazy has happened in the months after their birth, so they’re calmer, their stress levels much lower. They’ve got a pretty relaxed life, and that’s exactly what he wants.

“You used to be louder than that,” he overhears Henry tell Ada from behind him.

“I was not,” she protests.

Killian laughs to himself before rising from the couch and moving to stand in front of Emma, motioning for her to hand him Nate. She does, passing him off with a smile before she settles down in the armchair, curling her legs up underneath her as she takes a bite out of her sandwich.

“Now, Nate,” he says, swaying his hips from side to side and poking his son’s nose, “there is a secret to dancing. Sometimes you can be silly and move your arms and your bottom however you want, but then other times there’s a specific flow of how to dance. Your mum is a natural at dancing, but I believe that’s because she picked a partner who knew what he was doing.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“No, no, I am not.” Nate babbles at him before reaching up to grab at his face, his little smile so happy when he was red faced moments ago. “You see, I used to have to go to military balls, my boy, and one time I had the pleasure of dancing with your mother. She nearly stepped on my toes, but I made sure that she didn’t. It was all very romantic.”

“We weren’t even dating at the time.”

He winks at Emma. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was romantic.”

He keeps moving around with Nate while Emma eats, trying to keep him occupied. He’s attached to Emma, is always wanting to be with her, so it’s always a bit of a bonus for Nathan to be so happy when Killian’s playing with him and Emma’s just a few feet away. Ada joins in, deciding she wants to dance too, and while Henry doesn’t really have any interest, he settles down on the couch until Emma pulls him up and forces him to join her. He’s reluctant about it, but he does it.

Eventually they all get tired out, so Emma closes the curtains and turns on a movie, letting Nathan sleep on her chest and Ada nap at her side while he and Henry debate if Spiderman or Batman would be better at saving the town if they were to ever come under any danger. Henry has had to grow up quickly because of the circumstances of his life, but it’s comforting for him to get to have these little conversations about something as inconsequential as superheroes.

(Spiderman would definitely be better.)

The rest of their day is spent lazily, only getting up to eat or use the restroom, and by the time night falls, they’ve got Ada and Nathan sleeping and Henry settled in his room reading one of his books with the promise to turn off the lights before ten. He knows it won’t happen, but he can hope.

Walking through their bedroom, he makes his way to the bathroom where Emma is standing in front of the mirror spraying something in her hair before she attempts to brush out the tangled curls. He knows it’s not fun because he did the same for Ada after taking her braids out, and it was a mess. When she curses under her breath at a knot, he steps forward until he’s swaying into her space and pressing their bodies together while his hands press up under her shirt to splay over her stomach, her skin warm from the sun she got this morning.

“Hi,” he whispers before dragging his lips across her neck, tasting the salt that still remains on her skin as she leans back into him. There will never be a more beautiful, loving woman, and he’s grateful that she’s his every day.

“Hi.”

“The kids are asleep.”

“That tends to happen at night.”

He hums in agreement before pressing another kiss to her neck as his hands wander up her stomach to her breasts, running his fingers over her nipples while Emma arches her back into him. “You know what else tends to happen at night?”

“Late night talk shows.”

“Tease,” he laughs, stopping his ministrations and resting his chin on her shoulder so that he can look at the two of them in the mirror. His eyes are immediately drawn to the little bit of gray peppering in his hair, just at the temple, and as much as Emma tells him that he’s beginning to be her silver fox, he’s not overly fond of this proof of aging, especially when his wife and his children are still so young and vibrant. “Today was a good day.”

“It was,” Emma agrees, reaching her hand up to scratch at the back of his head that sends shivers down his spine. “I wish you had off of work more often during the summers so we could have days like this.”

“It’s my busy season.”

“I know, I know. I like eating too much for us not to have jobs.”

“And the roof over our head.”

“Yeah, that too,” she chuckles before she manages to grab the corner of his lips with hers. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll come to bed, okay?”

“I like that plan.”

He lets Emma brush through her hair and wash her face while he brushes his teeth and washes his own face, slipping out of his sweats so that he’s only wearing his boxers before leaving the bathroom and moving to settle down under the plush white comforter in their bedroom. It’s still early enough for them not to be in bed, and he knows that he has laundry to do, but he’ll let that slide until tomorrow. It takes him a few minutes to find something on television to watch, settling on reruns of Seinfeld, and Emma joins him, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his stomach while he plays with her untangled hair as they sit in silence for a few minutes, the lights on the screen flickering in the dim lights of the room.

“We need to get Henry packed for his camp tomorrow. And Ada has a gymnastics class at the same time that I need to be dropping Henry off.”

“I can take Ada. I don’t have to be at work until ten on Monday.”

“That works for me, but don’t forget her - ”

“Scrunchie. Aye, I know, love,” he promises, dipping his head down to kiss the top of Emma’s hair. “I know how she absolutely has to have her hair done. She’s a particular lass.”

“I wonder where she gets that from.”

“Obviously not me.”

Emma pats his stomach and turns her head to kiss his chest. “Sure, babe. You’re never particular about anything.”

“Never.”

His hand travels down her back to run over her ass, lightly teasing the firm skin before he drags his fingers back up, scratching at her skin. He doesn’t have any devious intent, simply moving his hand up and down Emma’s body because it’s relaxing to her in the times when he’s not riling her up. And if it happens to bring a little energy back to them as they’re half asleep.

“You know, Mrs. Jones, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.”

“It is at least one out of every ten times.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Anyways,” he laughs, cupping her chin and tilting her head up so that his thumb rubs over the indent in her chin and he can look into her eyes, “I was thinking that it’s such a shame that I never did get to take you as my date to one of the military balls we attended. We could have gotten dressed up, danced all night until you had me carrying your shoes because your feet hurt. You deserve nights like that.”

“Killian, we got married in my mom’s living room when we could have had a big party wearing nice clothes where we danced all night and got drunk off our asses. I don’t...it would have been great to get to go to those balls together, to have the fancy nights out, but I don’t need any of that. It’s so much better for you and me to do stupid dances in the living room with our kids. I couldn’t ask for more because I love you, and I’m happy.”

He dips his head to slide his lips over hers, quick and warm and insistent, but he likes it most of all because he can feel her smile mixed in with his.

“My love, your happiness is all I desire.”

“Same.”

“That’s not quite as eloquent.”

“Yeah, well, eloquence was never in the deal when you signed up for this package.”

He smiles at her, pressing forward to kiss her one more time as their noses brush together. “I’m more than good with that.”

[heyyyharry]

In Another Life Series: Chapter 11 - The End

Series description: Y/N and Harry are soulmates and destined to meet in every lifetime, but no matter how many times they reincarnate and find each other again, they never seem to get it right.

AU: reincarnation, soulmate!harry, prince!harry, assistant!y/n, witch!y/n.

Chapter 10 - The Sidekicks: The protagonists aren’t always the only heroes.

wattpad link ❤︎  Before you read the chapter, I have "a few" words to say *clear throat and open my Oscar winning speech* (or you can just start reading and skip this altogether, it's fine).

When I was reaching the end of Flatmate with no intention of writing the sequel, I wanted to write something new that would be just as good. My mind was empty, and I came up with many bullshit ideas and almost settled down with some of them (glad i DIDN'T!). Then as I was listening to 1000 Times by Sarah Bareilles, from the lyrics, I pictured two strangers meeting each other for the first time, feeling like they've known each other forever, but having no clue that they used to be lovers in a different lifetime. It's just so romantic in my head and I knew I could do this idea justice. So thank you Sarah Bareilles, if you read this fic lemme know lmao. The painting idea was originally from Marc Levy's novel with the same name (Idk what it's title in French, but in my translated language it's) In Another Life, so just to be clear I didn't really come up with that, credit to the genius who did. Thank you "The Tudors" for all this knowledge I have about the English dynasties in the 16th century, and I'm genuinely sorry if I offend anyone with all the historical inaccuracies, please forgive me. Thank you everyone who's read and waited and commented on every chapter to help me make this as good as possible. I know it's only fiction but to read about how my writing makes some of you happy and feel better really does make me happy and feel better and motivated to write more.

I've had a couple alternative endings to this series, and I think this one is the best (among the others), but if you want to know what the other endings are, feel free to drop me an ask! Or simply tell me what you expected from this chapter before knowing the actual ending here!

Okay, bye, thank you for putting up with my extra ass! Kissy, Allie.❤︎

___________________________

Harry ended up spending the rest of his afternoon chatting with his assigned nurse. He'd told the old woman about what had been going on in his life, how he'd met Y/N, the dreams he'd had ever since his trip to the museum, the faces in those dreams that looked just like her. And even though it did feel nice to finally get all this burden off his chest, he still found it strange that she barely opened up about herself. All he knew about her was that her name was Margaret, or Maggie as she preferred to be called, and she lived alone, no husband, no children, and had been working as a nurse for as long as she could remember.

"I have a feeling that we've met before," he told her at last because it had been bothering him since they first met. 

But the woman just looked at him in surprise as she said she didn't think so. "Although, you do remind me of someone I used to know." She studied the look on his face, pondering for a little while.

"Oh, who is it?" He asked.

"I had a niece, she fell madly in love with a young man whom you remind me of."

"Had?"

"She...passed away years ago, unfortunately."

Harry could see the clear change in her facial expression when she said those words, so he didn't want to dig too deep into that hurtful memory of hers, even though he was curious to know about the man who resembled him. However, it was Maggie who continued with this topic he thought she wanted to avoid.

"That young man was very passionate about my dear Annalise as you are for the girl you love."

"Her name was Annalise?"

"Yes, it means Grace of God. I helped her mother pick that name."

"Very beautiful, ma'am." Harry pressed his lips into a smile when he saw how hers was beaming as she talked about her beloved niece. "I'm sure Annalise and her man were very happy together?"

"No. They never got together." Maggie shook her head slowly. "His family didn't want him to be with her and he didn't have a choice."

"So after she...uhm..."

"Passed away?"

"Yes, after she passed away, what happened to him?"

There was a long pause as the old lady's eyes shifted to her feet, and Harry felt like he never should've asked that question. He took a wild guess that the young man must've had the same tragic ending as the girl, if that was true, then this was definitely the most heartbreaking story he'd heard in a long time.

"He moved on, married the girl his family wanted him to marry, but he never stopped loving her. He died of a heart attack, and his last word was her name."

Harry felt a lump in his throat and he had no idea why. He was really hurting over a story of two strangers whom he knew nothing about. His faith in true love had always been faint, after hearing this he had completely lost hope.

"Had the timing been different, they could've ended up together," he said, breaking the melancholy silence that had taken over the atmosphere surrounding them.

Maggie released a long heavyhearted sigh as she crossed her legs and leaned back against the chair. She stopped to think for a moment, then she told him, "but I like to think they'll meet each other and start again in another life. Because true love never dies. Do you agree?"

No. Harry didn't.

He thought people had had enough chances in one lifetime already and God wouldn't be so merciful to offer endless trials for them to try and fix their mistakes again and again, lifetime after lifetime. Despite so, he still told Maggie he agreed with her and added, "I'll have my fingers crossed for the two of them."

As he was about to move on to another, more cheerful topic to discuss, the old lady spoke up again, "she wrote him a letter every single day they'd spent together."

"Oh, did he get a chance to read them?"

"He did. I gave them to him myself. He was very emotional, he burst into tears."

"Wow..."

"Before he passed away he gave them back to me." Maggie rose from the chair by his hospital bed and went to grab her purse, which sat on the table by the window. "I have them with me here, do you want to read them?"

"You bring them with you to work?"

The perplexity on his face made her smile as she pulled out a pile of papers which seemed pretty old, they'd turned to a yellowish brown and were all a bit torn at the edges. "I was moving to a new home today so I brought them with me, I don't want to put them with the rest of the other stuff in my flat, they're very fragile."

"I don't think I should read them, they're very personal, ma'am." Harry shook his head when she gave the letters to him.

"You're an artist, aren't you? Maybe these love letters will inspire you in your songwriting. And I know my darling Ann would love to share them with people who have the same heart as the man she loved."

Did she just say Ann? That was the name Harry had heard many times in his dreams about Y/N. But he could be wrong.

"I'm gonna leave them here for you to read. You have nothing fun to do around here anyway," Maggie chuckled then walked away from his bed, not expecting a reply from her confused patient.

.

.

Madam Maggie told Edward she'd come to him because of Ann. She's asked her to. Before the fire incident, Ann had a bad feeling, which she just assumed had something to do with Edward marrying someone else. Little did she know, that bad feeling she'd thought was insignificant ended up costing her her own life.

In her despair, the poor girl had snuck outside of the castle to see Madam Maggie and asked for two little favors. Thanked to Ann's favors, Madam Maggie showed up just in time to find an unconscious Edward lying on the floor of his chamber.

"Her powers allowed her to detect sickness, she knew you had a weak heart, which was also why you fainted earlier. She didn't have the heart to tell you, so she came to see me."

"Ann asked you to cure me?" Edward inquired, placing a hand on the left side of his chest, only to get disappointed by the answer he received from this woman.

"I can make you feel less pain, but I don't think I can cure you completely. Witches can fix broken bones and mend wounds, but we cannot magic away something so permanent like the heart disease you've carried since the day you were born."

Edward nodded understandingly. He seemed so unbothered for someone who had just found out his heart had been unwell since his birth. That was when you know he was, in entirety, wrecked. Ann's death had caused him such pain that nothing else, not even a stab in the gut by the sharpest blade would be able to hurt him that much.

"On the night we met, she fixed the wound on my leg," he said with a fractured grin and tears in his emerald eyes. "And I was supposed to be afraid of her, that was the first time in my life I'd ever seen witchcraft." He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound of it, just utter desolation. "But the look in her eyes made me feel safe...and suddenly I wasn't afraid anymore. I knew she was a good person."

"She said the same thing about you. She really loved you."

"And I let her down...Maybe...Maybe this sickness should just kill me so I can finally be with her." He took a long pause and shifted his eyes to the window by his bed, sucking in a long breath while contemplating whether or not he should say this out loud. He thought he should. "Before you got here, I nearly jumped out of that window."

"Why didn't you?" Madam Maggie calmly asked as if she'd already known, both what he'd tried to do, and the reason he'd chosen not to do it.

"I made a promise to Ann that I would be a good King. I have to live to fulfill that promise."

"It's good that you're still thinking straight." The woman flashed a smile, reaching out to hold his hand which laid lifelessly by his unresponsive body. "I haven't told you the real reason I'm here. Ann also asked me another favor."

"What is it?" He asked.

Madam Maggie thought that this was the most alive he'd looked since she first saw him. She confided, "did you know she'd been writing you letters?"

"N-No..."

"She had. Everyday, from the first day she set foot in this castle, to the night before they locked her away. She felt something bad was gonna happen so she brought them to me and asked me to keep them for a while. She told me she'd come back for them, hopefully with you by her side. She was very sure that you two would end up running away together." When she finished that sentence, Madam Maggie couldn't control her emotions anymore. Tears started to shed from her eyes, running down the crinkles at the corners of her chapped lips to land onto her worn out dress. Edward squeezed her hand a bit tighter, as he could deeply sympathize with her loss.

"Before she left she gave me a kiss on the cheek...Like she always did whenever we said goodbye...I didn't think—" That sentence was never finished for the old woman couldn't speak anymore. She began sobbing into the palm of her other hand. And Edward did as well. It was the first time he'd really cried ever since he last saw her, and he thought the agony he was feeling then would be his life sentence.

.

.

.

Harry woke up, gasping for air, again.

He was back in his hospital room, the only sound other than his own ragged breathing and riotous heartbeats was the beeping of one of the machines placed beside his bed. This time, he had a dream about Y/N stuck in a burning house, he risked his own life to run inside to save her but she couldn't come with him. So he held her close and let the flame swallow them whole. The dreams he'd been having had become more real recently, and he guessed his mild fear of the hospital had something to do with it. Fortunately, Harry wouldn't have to stay there much longer. The doctors had said, for some reasons they could not explain, his heart's condition had been slowly going back to normal, as if it'd healed on its own. By this time tomorrow, he could finally be home.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows then reached out to grab the glass of water his nurse had left on the bedside table. That was when he saw the pile of letters she'd put right under it. He slowly sat up, finishing his water, putting the empty glass back on the table, then with a little bit of hesitation, he took the letters and brought them to his lap.

When Harry scanned his eyes through the first line, which was the date, he almost thought his eyes were mistaken. The year was 1509, which was 510 years ago! Was this supposed to be a joke? Or was it just a thing this girl Annalise always did with her lover? Maybe it was a secret message only they knew. Now, Harry couldn't put the letters down without finishing every single one of them.

So Harry began to read, every single word. It took him only halfway through the first letter to realize this wasn't from just 'a few years ago' like Maggie had said. This was a letter from a peasant girl named Ann written to a Prince, Edward Rammour, no other than the man in the portrait, in the museum where the series of strange events and bizarre dreams of Harry's started.

The girl, Ann, wrote about their first met, about their little moments together, about the look in his eyes when he looked at her, about the things he said that he didn't pay attention to but she remembered every single word. And Harry knew every single detail in here, he'd seen them countless of times in his dreams, in which the girl who was supposed to be Ann, looked like Y/N. But the last few letters were all from her point of view so he didn't know what was gonna happen. She talked about not being able to see him as much, about doubting his love for her, about believing in his love for her again when he snuck out to visit her one night, about the things people in the castle said about her even in her presence, about a princess named Emilié who was betrothed to the Prince and hated her deeply, about receiving his letter one night asking her to meet him in the library. And in the last paragraph of the very last letter, she wrote about how happy she was because she believed they were gonna run away together. Harry's heart wrenched in anguish for he knew that wasn't what had happened.

In a millisecond, all the lost memories flooded back to him. Harry now remembered. Everything.

He remembered her screaming and shouting and begging him to save her and not let them take her away, and he didn't save her, he watched them take her away. He remembered saying goodbye to her one last time. He remembered the look on her face before the door shut between them, He remembered telling her he loved her, forever, and so he did. He loved her forever.

He remembered everything.

And on the hospital bed, he burst into tears, and those tears fell down and blurred out the handwriting of the girl who'd been dead for hundreds of years, yet kept alive inside his heart.

"Little Annalise had always preferred to be called Ann."

He lifted his head quickly and saw Maggie at the door. He didn't ask her to explain, he already knew what was going on. "Is Y/N...is she..."

"Yes, she is." The woman gave him a nod. "Did you feel strange when you looked into her eyes?" He did. "The eyes are the windows to a person's soul. That was why when you looked into hers, as well as...your own...in that painting in the museum, you felt a sense of familiarity that you couldn't explain. Same souls, trapped in two different bodies"

"How is this even possible?" Harry grimaced, trying to put two and two together on his own, but it wasn't that simple. "Why are there only two of us? Do the other...Does this happen to them too? How are you still alive?!"

"I'm the head witch, I'm immortal. Not even fire could kill me," she said, smiling as she approached his bed and sat down on the chair where she'd sat earlier.

Taking in a deep breath, she began, “when a person dies, his or her soul breaks into tiny pieces, each creates a new life. They start again as different people with no memories of the lives they used to have. But Ann already casted a spell on you, on both of you actually. That spell keeps your souls from unraveling and also connected to each other. So you’ve met in every single lifetime, and had many chances to start over. But this is the closest you’ve ever got to the ending she wanted for you two.”

"Why did it take me until today, this lifetime, to remember?"

"Because it took me that many centuries to have found you." Maggie sighed. "I usually found Ann first, but as there are more and more people on the Earth nowadays, it's really difficult to track her down. Every time I arrived in the past, it was already too late. But this time, I guess God does show some mercy after all. He brought me to you instead."

"So you working here is all a coincidence."

"A magical coincidence. I almost didn't believe it when I saw you here." She showed him a smile. And even though Harry had calmed down by now, he was still in shock. "Edward asked me to give you these letters, he thought only them would help you remember."

"W-Why should I remember if...if every time we got together one of us died?"

"Because only when you remember, would this story be over."

.

.

.

"Are you sure you want me to have them?"

Edward nodded, pushing the letters into Madam Maggie's hand as he insisted, "you're the only hope for me to find her."

She really was. Madam Maggie said once Ann had reincarnated into a new body, she would be able to feel her, and even if it might take a lot of effort to find her and convince her to believe she was Ann, it was possible.

Honestly, Edward didn't really believe in life after death. But he hadn't believed in witches until he met Ann, and she was real. Sometimes he still wished she hadn't been real. Maybe if she'd been a dream, a beautiful dream, then he would just sleep forever and never wake up.

"But how did you know it was the only way to break the spell?" He asked Madam Maggie, eyes on the letters. She could sense the sound of fear and doubt in his trembling voice.

"I just knew when you first told me, dear." She put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "She said it herself, only when you've found her in another life, could you two finally be together."

Edward exhaled though his mouth as recalled his lover's last words. She did say so, after she'd kissed him. The kiss. He realized it now! That kiss was when she put a spell on them both!

"Destiny is a funny thing, it's like a chess game, if you can't win, you lose." Madam Maggie took a deep breath and slowly let it all out. "Destiny wants to keep you two apart, so it will make sure you two are forever kept apart no matter what. Ann tried to break the rules, so by finding her she meant, you, finding Ann, not whoever she'd be in the next lifetime, or many after that. If you fail to recognize her but still try to break the rules by being with her, then destiny does what it has to, history repeats itself. One of you will pay the price."

Edward opened his mouth to ask another question, yet Madam Maggie shushed him right before he could release a single sound. "You should get some rest, your coronation is tomorrow."

Then she walked away, disappeared into the darkness of the long corridor. And that was also the last time he ever saw her.

"Edward! Wait, darling!" The voice caught Edward's attention, and he turned around, wishing he hadn't. His mother ran up to him, sounding so desperate as she pleaded, "darling, we need to talk!"

"No, we don't," he said coldly and started walking away. But she chased after him and managed to grab him by the arm.

"I understand that you don't want to speak to your wife but I am—"

"She's not my wife!" He shouted, but the frightened look on her face made him weak again. "It's only a title. Tomorrow she might be the Queen of England, but she will never be my wife."

"You cannot say that! You have to give her a chance! You need a son to rule after you!"

"I don't want a son so he would grow up with a mother like that. I don't want him to suffer the same way I am." Edward hoped those words did hurt the Queen, he hoped the pain shown on her face was genuine. However, he didn't know anymore, he didn't believe in it. Was there anything, or anyone in this castle, 'genuine'? "Emilié had told me everything, mother. You sent Ann in there...knowing father could hurt her. You were willing to destroy a young girl's life just to make sure I'd stay for the throne. Now I am King, are you happy now?"

"I did it because I love you!"

"You, same as Emilié, same as father, love no one but yourself!" Each and every one of those word was a knife pierced right through his chest. "The only one who's ever loved me for me, and not who I am, or going to be, was Ann, and now she's dead."

"I am still your mother..."

"You are not." He shook his head slowly, trying not to cry because she wasn't worth anymore of his tears. He'd suffered enough. "I loved you, I really loved you."

Loved. The sound of it crushed the Queen's dark heart into dust, and she thought she might collapse onto the floor had she been able to feel any of her muscle. She was frozen right where she stood, eyes wide, jaw dropped, heartbroken, staring at the son she'd let down. They could've just continued to stand there until sunrise, had the conversation been interrupted by the arrival of the Chief Minister.

"There you are, Your Highness!" Exclaimed the man, who sounded so thrilled since he didn't know what was happening here. "I already had everything you asked prepared for the coronation tomorrow morning. Also Piersilvio, the famous Italian painter, he wanted to paint your portrait as a gift. He would arrive at court soon after the ceremony."

"Good." Edward nodded as he exhaled sharply. "Anything else?"

"No, Your Highness."

"It's 'Your Majesty' to you now."

"Yes...My apologies...Your Majesty..." The Chief Minister hung his head to show respect to the new young King as he was startled by the change in Edward's attitude. He was afraid he might been in trouble for addressing the monarch in the wrong way, but Edward didn't pay much attention to it.

"Have a good evening, His Excellency. Could you please escort the Queen Mother back to her bed chamber?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

When Edward absented himself, he heard his mother desperately screaming out his name, begging him to forgive her. However, he turned a deaf ear to all the things she said. He was no different from a dead man walking.

.

.

.

There were indeed plenty of museums in London, more than 170 of them. Countless of visitors came and went every single day. What were the chances of two person returning to the same museum, every single day, to sit in front of the same painting? Surely very little.

For the first few days the pair were there, nobody really noticed. For almost two weeks, they began to. Everyday before the museum was closed, a young man and a young woman would arrive and stare at the portrait of Edward Rammour, and then they left when everyone else did. Some people thought they were lovers who shared the same passion with art, some said they were sad, depressed, and lonely, some said they were crazy. However, nobody actually came and asked them what their story was. Maybe if someone had, they would've told them.

"How long are you gonna keep tormenting yourself?" Asked Jason as he sat down by his best friend's side on the bench in front of the painting and handed her a donut, which she refused.

"Until I get my memories back..."

"That's impossible."

"Why?" She snorted. "I think I just need a bit more time with this painting, and it'll all come back to me. She wanted me to remember. That was why she cursed me as well."

"We don't really know what she wanted." Jason heaved a sigh. "Maybe she wanted the King to pay for his mistake by cursing him, but she didn't think about how it would also affect her in her new lives."

That theory seemed justifying, but Y/N knew it wasn't the truth. People wouldn't want themselves to be bound together for eternity with someone they loathed. She knew the woman she used to be still loved the King despite it all. If only she could remember what had really happened.

"He's back in London you know," Jason broke the silence between the two of them, hand reaching out to hold hers. He thought she might pull away like many times before, but this time she didn't. She stayed still where she was, emotionless, unbothered. "Have you listened to his new song? It's about you."

"I have. I love it. I wish I could tell him."

"You should reach out to him...if you want to."

"I can't, you know I can't." The lump in her throat when she thought about him made it hard for her to breathe. "Not until I know how to break the curse. If we tried to be together, there would be consequences."

"So you're gonna spend your entire life, sitting in front of this painting, trying to remember a life you had...five centuries ago?"

A simple "yes" was her answer. And Jason knew nothing else to say. He wanted what was best for her, and he thought separating her from Harry would fix everything. But everything became worse. She'd been losing sleep, her nightmares got more real and hard to wake up from. Still her memories of her past life were still dust in a desert.

Jason asked her if she was thirsty, she said no, but he said he would go buy her something to drink anyway. He then laid a kiss on her cheek and stood up to go. She was once again left alone. Actually, she wasn't alone.

She could feel him near. She didn't even need to turn around to know he was there. She just did. And she was afraid to look because her feelings could be wrong, and if he wasn't standing right behind her she would be so disappointed. That was when his voice rang right through her ear. The first thing he said wasn't 'hi' or 'hello' or 'how have you been?' Or even her name.

It was, "I've found you."

Y/N rose from the bench to turn around, facing Harry at last. He was wearing an expensive trench coat, hands in its pockets, his grey flat cap made sure half of his face was covered, but there was no way she could mistaken him with anyone else. Time seemed to stop when they locked eyes, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt something she'd never felt before. She parted her lips, wanting to speak, yet no word escaped for she had no idea what to say. He said he'd found her, but she knew he didn't mean finding her, here, in this museum, it was something else, almost like—

"Of course you don't remember...I...uhm—" he mumbled, as if he was talking to himself. Then a dimpled smile crept up on his face only to vanish as soon as Jason returned with a bottle of water for Y/N.

She didn't know what was going on in Harry's mind at that point, and Harry didn't say a word either. He turned his heels just as Jason recognized him, and quickly made tracks to the nearest exit.

Her eyes quickly followed his familiar figure to that door over there, then all the sounds around her became muted at once. She didn't even hear Jason asking her what had just happened, instead she heard Harry's footsteps echoing inside the walls of her brain as they were fading away. He spun his head and sent her one last look before the door was closed between the two of them. Time stopped. It wasn't Harry that she saw.

She saw Edward.

She saw him being dragged away from her by the men in amours. She heard her own deafening screams as well as his. She saw the flames on the torches on the brick walls mirroring in his green eyes. She saw him mouthing the words 'I love you' to her. The door shut between them two, and she snapped back to reality. Everything vanished. The room, the guards, the flames, the torches, him.

She remembered it now, everything.

"Y/N! Y/N! Where are you going?!" Jason shouted after her as she started running fast, pushing her way through a crowd of tourists, who screamed at her for being so rude. Then she burst through that door and she screamed out his name, causing many heads to turn around. There was only one face among them that mattered.

When she saw him she didn't hesitate. Hell, she'd been waiting for this moment for too long, 500 years! Now, she could finally fall into his embrace. Her head against his chest, and she was finally home.

Shocked as he was, Harry didn't resist the hug. He chose to ignore all the judging stares they were receiving and clung onto her, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed to her forehead.

"Why did you walk away?" She pulled back to look up at him with a pucker between her brows, all out of breath, yet laughing uncontrollably.

"You were...with someone else..." He sounded hurt and confused, it only made her laugh harder.

"That's my best friend Jason, you've met him before, remember?" she cried out, voice trembling because she'd never been so happy that she choked on her own words. "I was waiting for you. I've been waiting for you for so long."

"Wait, so you..."

"I remember." She nodded fast, arms tightened around his waist. "I remember exactly what was going through my head in that tower. I remember feeling so scared when I was on the stake. I remember the last image in my head was you. I remember...telling you to find me in another life so we could finally be together...And you did, Harry you found me."

When she touched his face, Harry felt as if there was magic on her fingertips. He dug his nose into her palm, sniffing away his own tears as he wiped away the ones that were rolling down her cheeks. He heard the sound of the camera shutter somewhere behind her, behind him, on his left, and his right, knowing their reunion could've already made the news already, yet he couldn't care less.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked, still cupping his cheeks with no intention of letting him go.

"I came to your house and Lisa told me." He paused. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I needed over a week to think of what to say to you before coming here so I wouldn't sound insane...I even brought your letters—"

"How do you have the letters?" Her eyes grew wide, mouth slightly opened. "Wait, have you...have you met her?" Y/N felt like her heart could burst from joy when he nodded his head, telling her yes. "Where is she?! Is she here?!"

"No, but I'll take you to her, love. She really misses you," he told her while looking around and spotting a couple sneaky paparazzi. So he locked his fingers around her wrist and urged her to come with him and get out of here so they could finally tell each other everything that had happened.

"Harry, wait!" Y/N tugged on his arm when he was about to pull her with him. "I...I need you to kiss me now so I can be sure neither of us is gonna die."

Her pretentious fear made Harry burst into laughter. With no hesitation, he cupped her cheeks with both hands, bringing his face down to hers so the tips of their noses brushed against each other, then with their lips only one breath apart, he whispered to her, "queen of my heart."

He kissed her exactly how she wanted to be kissed, like it was their first, last, everything they had left to lose. This passionate and timeless moment put an official end to the series of misery that had lasted for five centuries long. And people who walked past King Edward's portrait that day could swear when they told the story, of how they saw the man in the painting, smile.

[clarabosswald]

this is a really long and really pointless rant

so remember the animal shelter i used to “volunteer” (do national service) at? i still go there from time to time. like once a week or two. but not as much as i used to. mainly because a lot has changed.  my former boss quit, because the ceo - her boss - is a fucking piece of shit who borderline abused her. the job was her life. i asked her - if it wasn’t for him, she’d have stayed in her position for years.  they got a new person in, a new shelter manager. she’s a nice woman, she’s got a good heart. but she’s new, and insecure, and the ceo basically got maximum control on the place.  they got rid of the cats. there were two cat rooms - “catteries” - they got rid of those, and put dogs in the rooms instead.  cats are the most neglected domestic animal in israel. but i’ve always felt how mr ceo doesn’t give a shit about them (and he’s a fucking cat owner). they also didn’t get as much money from cat adoptions as from dog adoptions, which i feel is the main reason for this change. the new shelter manager told me they were just gonna switch things around, and i’m sure she thought that was the truth, but nope, it’s just more dogs (more money makers).  and it’s fucking idiotic, because it’s not as if people are gonna stop abandoning their cats at the shelter. now there’s just not gonna be any place to put them in. the other thing - which i also blame the new manager for - is the utter neglect of the long time residents at the shelter. they’re naturally the ones closest to my heart, because i know almost all of them ever since they got to the shelter (a couple are there from even before i started volunteering there, which was over 3 goddamn years ago).  i know all of their little quirks and i know their history, and the ones who were adopted and then abandoned - i know exactly why. i know their behavioral problems i know their stories, their barks, their sad looks. all those dogs are long time residents because they’ve got behavioral issues on some level.  and no one’s promoting them. no one’s talking about them. and i’m so fucking angry. because they’re making those “sob stories” posts on the shelter’s fb page, “look at this poor dog, nobody looks at them, another day passes and nobody adopts them” - and those posts would be about dogs that are at the shelter for like, 2 fucking months at most. there’s a dog that’s been there for more than 4 years. funny little guy. got his heart broken by an adopter who abandoned him. started biting. but his triggers are well known. he’s insanely smart. he’s got this sharp personality. and the best little kisses. they haven’t posted about him in months.  there’s a dog - this one... this one is the reason i’m writing this post, because i’m madly in love with him. his name is ralph. he’s almost 2 years old. he’s been in a cage since he was about 4 or 5 months old. he’s some sort of ridgeback or pitbull mix - like, around 35 kg, maybe 40 - absolutely beautiful, he is. and i’m crying again writing this because he’s such a sweet boy. he’s so fucking loving. he’ll lick you for 10 minutes straight. and he’s trying so hard... all of the time. he’s so easy to train. he’s so eager to please.  and he’s got a big behavioral issue. when on a leash, outside, other dogs drive him mad. not because of aggressiveness - it’s got to do with frustration, it’s a long story. when not on a leash, he’s perfect with other dogs. but when on a leash, he’s got to have muzzle on. muzzle training him was so hard. but so rewarding. it really calmed him down. but before we (the old crew, mainly my old boss and i) muzzle trained him - god, he ripped so many of my cloths, just biting them because he got so, so frustrated. and i didn’t care. all the tears and pains i spent on him, it was for his sake, to get him to a better future. to give him a chance. and now there’s another bully-type dog at the shelter, and they’re posting about him so much. because the poor thing is deaf and already god abandoned like twice and doesn’t he deserve a good home? and i’m burning with anger because that dog, he’s at the shelter for like, a few weeks? and ralph’s been there for... over a year and a half. and they’re scared of him. i know it for fact. the ceo wanted to send him off to be a police dog, and we barely stopped him from doing that. the new shelter manager is terrified of him. she told me that pretty plainly. and my chest hurts so much thinking of him just... waiting there. in his cell. with the poop covered yard floor (they clean it once or twice a day but it’s still poop covered most of the time. big dogs = lots of poop, there’s not much you can do about that). and not a day passes without me beating myself for not being able to adopt him myself. because i’d have done it in a heartbeat, but i’m living with my family and we’ve got a dog and 3 cats and more importantly 2 parents who’d never let me do it. and he’s just there and nobody’s fighting for him, or for his cellmate vivian who’s also been there for nearly 2 years and was never adopted even once because she’s a big dog and plain-looking so nobody looks at her twice. and there’s eddie, who was the sweetest dog and got adopted and something went terribly wrong and his behavior became unpredictable so now nobody dares give him another chance. or santana who was adopted as a puppy, and her family loved her dearly until she started showing behavioral issues and they got rid of her like a rotten fruit. and chika who’s this black lab-type dog, who’s also prone to biting, so she’s also muzzled when outside and who’d adopt a big black muzzled dog? and they’re all there for months and months and the very people who’re supposed to be advertising them like crazy, who’re supposed to be fighting for them, are just hiding them and instead are posting that new pretty husky or this new pretty australian shepherd, giving them sob stories for being at the shelter for like a week tops, and i’m so fucking mad. so fucking mad that this shelter who used to be this unique place who’d be fighting for the literal underdogs, because just another shelter boasting that they got another pretty dog who’ll turn into a moneymaker. 

and there’s literally nothing i can do about this.

my old boss, who’s now just a friend, pretty much cut ties with the place, and i can’t blame her, because if i were in her place i’d have gone mad. 

i’m already going mad.

[oddcoupler222]

*pounds fists on table* Those Who Wait AU, TWW AU, TWW AU! trying to get my chant started ;) but seriously, i would do many things in order for you to post the alternate ending where Margaery didn't come out in that article/didn't go to the wedding...

okaaaay now that the real ending is out and about, i can divulge the au ending

in the event that Margaery didn’t go to Robb’s wedding, didn’t come out to Missandei in that article, the courses of their lives change drastically. Those Who Wait would have come to an end with chapter 21 (post Sansa’s love confession)

and then we would have:

It’s Only A Matter of Time

Sansa and Margaery are “broken up” (semantics, since they weren’t technically together and all). Sansa breaks down to Jeyne about their breakup, has confessed her love for Margaery. It’s been almost a month since that fateful confession, and Margaery is about to do her final interview before the election. In chapter 22 of Those Who Wait, she talks to both Renly and her grandmother, and is also heartbroken and knows she’s in love with Sansa.

But when the moment comes for her to tells Missandei about her sexuality…she decides by the skin of her teeth that it’s too risky, and instead, swallows it and listens to what she believes are her better instincts.

Now, the story diverges. Sansa goes home for Robb’s wedding, dealing withher heartbreak from Margaery. Margaery does not show up and profess her love for her.

Margaery goes on to win the election for the Small Council by the considerable margin she had on Cersei at that given point in time, and buries herself in work to get over her heartbreak. Sansa does her best to lean on her family and friends and deal with her feelings, as she prepares for her internship.

And… life goes on.

Eventually, the heartbreak gets easier. Sansa slays her internship, and returns back to King’s Landing seven months later (about 10 months post-breakup), and is as over Margaery as she’s going to be, really (which hurts and takes some time, more time than she’s ever had to deal with before after a breakup, because she has never been in love with someone the way she’s in love with Margaery. She’s never met anyone like Margaery, and they just had… something between them that clicked so well… so it takes some time).

She enrolls in KLU for a PhD program, working as an adjunct professor there (which will become her tenure career), and eventually starts trying to date. The following year, she meets Arianne Greenfield. She’s a couple years older, a journalist.They date, get engaged, and married, within the next few years. Two years later, they have a daughter, Gemma.

In the meantime, Margaery is a badass and climbing the political ladder like no one’s business. Margaery Tyrell is quickly becoming a name, beyond Olenna Tyrell’s granddaughter. She makes more reforms and gets more proposals approved than anyone has in over twenty years, and gets elected to the High Council in less than three years. Which is outstandingly fast.

She, after almost a year of self-imposed celibacy, VERY quietly dips into meeting women who she is sure will be discreet. It’s less frequent than in the past, she doesn’t go on any dating apps or anything, and it’s usually one night stands. There are a couple who last a little longer, but they are usually people who also have things on the line/wouldn’t really want for their sexuality/romantic pursuits to be public. And even when women inevitably fall for her, she doesn’t ever fall back, or really ever let herself be in a position to be. Because she under no circumstances wants to feel like her personal wants and career are at odds like she did back with Sansa ever again, and also doesn’t want to feel that heartbreak.

Even though they weren’t in each other’s lives, though, they never completely lose track of one another.

Like. The day Sansa gets married, Margaery knows and does she hyper-focus on work that day, staying at the office later than anyone else, and then go home and get a bit drunk and cry? Yes, yes she does. Does she hear through the grapevine that Sansa was pregnant -and see her from a distance at the store during said pregnancy, and feel this pang through her heart at this feeling of longing because no one has ever gotten into her heart like Sansa did? Of course.

Does Sansa always - always - stop to read every article that features Margaery’s rising political career? Sometimes getting lost in the thoughts, with this strange feeling of pride? Does she sit on the edge of her seat during Margaery’s High Council election, because it was just SO important? Undoubtedly.

But no matter how many years went by or even that her wife was a journalist who would occasionally write on politics, she never breathed a word about Margaery’s sexuality.

And they saw each other a handful of times over the years, too. As I said, Marg saw pregnant Sansa at the store. Sansa’s dad died a couple years after she’s married/has her daughter, and as he was a prominent politician who - at that point - Margaery had met multiple times and worked with a bit, she attended his funeral.

Arianne ends up having somewhat of an emotional affair, with her high school sweetheart, when Gemma’s about four, in a painful twist for Sansa, and they geta divorce (the ultimate irony as the world’s biggest romantic who is constantly unlucky in love. Also she publishes a humorous short-stories book Unlucky In Love - Tales of a Literally Hopeless Romantic that she started writing when she was tipsy and at Jeyne’s house the night after her divorce was final).

Margaery, in accordance with her lifelong plan, comes out after being on the High Council for 8/9 years - a couple of years before running for PM. She does it relatively quietly; her name isn’t AS publicized as it is in TWW universe and she, as according to plan, is not in a relationship, so it’s not something that anyone ever sees. It’s still a big deal, but a calculated risk that is relatively working out.

And even though she is now open to the idea of being with a woman publicly, it’s also difficult because… she wants someone who is going to be there for her as a partner, someone who understands all of the demands of her job (and how it’s really not just any job… whoever would be with her has REAL demands put on them as well),someone who has her own ambitions and wants, too. And she can’t really datecasually all that easily, you know? And - Margaery has discretely dated a LITTLE since coming out, but… she has this image of who she wants. It’s a, uhhh, very specific of an image of what she wants in a girlfriend.

The dust is starting to settle on being out, though, because it’s been a little over a year, and as she announced that she’s going to run for Prime Minister in the next election only about 2 years off, and the campaign is slowly starting, there’s a lot more interest in her right now. As the first outwardly gay politician as well as one of the youngest ever, who has become well known as a turning point in politics, there’s been some talk about having an authorized biography of sorts about her  to really jump into campaign season.

On the flip side, when Sansa had dinner that night that Marg came out, she quite literally dropped the cup she was holding at the announcement that Margaery Tyrell had come out (thank the gods for having a young child, because her cup was plastic, but like - still, she gets a weird look from her daughter). And she can’t help but have fleeting what-if thoughts that she does her best to squash.

Now, into the thick of things -

One of the big platforms Margaery has been working on since she got into politics is about education. Cost, quality, structure, etc. And she and a few others on the High Council who had supported different bills/proposals about funding for education are going to an event at King’s Landing University, which has a new program running for scholarships and students from not privileged backgrounds.

As the fates come together: Margaery and some others who have been on the political side of this education reform attend a a big dinner/fundraiser to jumpstart some programs at KLU. She’s there, having a decent evening, talking to some coworkers, when some speeches begin - and everything becomes background noise in that moment because

Sansa Stark (is it still Stark, she wonders, after she got married?) is up there, addressing the room. And even though there have been those very few moments they’ve seen one another in the last 15 years, it hasn’t happened in years and Sansa looks so good. Her hair is a little shorter and she’s older, but she’s up there and making a speech and - she is captivated by her.

After the speeches and whatnot are said and done, Sansa is in the crowd and is talking to a few of her coworkers, and as she’s in the middle of conversation, who joins the conversation but Margaery Tyrell.

Sansa chokes on her drink, because she did not know Margaery was going to be there, and she’s really right there and smirking. And Sansa only remembers seeing Margaery once in person since their breakup, but it was at her dad’s funeral and she was heartbroken and grieving and doesn’t remember much of that time, so this feels like. The first time she’s seeing her in person, and of course every time she’s seen her in articles or on the news, it doesn’t do her justice.

They get “introduced” and Sansa is still surprised and speechless, and Margaery shakes Sansa’s hand anyway - holding for a beat too long - as she says, “We’ve met, actually.” But never looks away from Sansa. 

“How are you?” is the first thing that comes out of Sansa’s mouth, because she’s just - she’s been wondering since Margaery had come out, honestly.

“I’m well; what about you?” Margaery’s voice is low and even though Sansa’s coworkers are there, she can’t help but feel like it’s just the two of them, and she slowly releases Sansa’s hand - no more wedding ring, she notes, and feels a resounding thud deep inside.

Sansa, after Margaery drops her hand, shakes herself out of it as much as she can, but how does she still feel that way when Margeary touches her? Like it’s 15 years ago, and she has to shake herself out of it. “I - I’m good.”

They don’t have time to talk just by themselves, really, standing in a group with their coworkers, but they have commentary with the group, and don’t really look away from one another.

Sansa goes home, tiptoeing in because Gemma is not the world’s heaviest sleeper. Jeyne is babysitting and can tell she’s dazed even as she huffs and falls into a chair. And when she tells Jeyne, her friend shouts, and ends up cutting the conversation short, because Gemma wakes up.

And Margaery? Well she goes home feeling like she wants to know Sansa all over again.

Fast-forward to a week later, where Sansa gets a phone call from Westerosi Publishing, who has wanted to publish an authorized bio on Margaery since she came out. And she’s almost numb in surprise, when they tell her that she was personally requested to write Margaery Tyrell’s story. “Requested?! By…”

“Ms. Tyrell, of course.”

Which is flattering and for a moment wonderful, but then like - “I’ll be in touch,” she tells them distantly.

Because what does this all mean?

So, she goes to meet with Margaery to talk about this, and has to take deep breaths and remindherself that she isn’t 24 anymore and Margaery Tyrell isn’t the first womanshe’s ever been with who broke her heart. That she is a married-and-divorced woman, with a daughter, and that this is going to be professional (even though it keeps playing in her mind that Margaery PERSONALLY REQUESTED HER).

So, she goes into the meeting, and Margaery is thrilled to see her. Because just in that one reuniting with Sansa, she felt more than she has with anyone else, like they have this thing between them. And she isn’t expecting anything, but maybe this at least can be a solid point for them to talk again.

She and Sansa talk a little bit, and Sansa is clearly a littlenervous, and finally, she asks why Margaery personally requested her for this. And Margaery thinks for a moment. Because her team was against it - “This Stark woman has only written academic pieces, with a sprinkling of historical fiction collabs and one admittedly successful but still book about humorous short stories. You could get so many more distinguished people -” “I want her.” -

“I want my story to be told by someone who understands me,” she settles on, quietly. Honestly. At the very base of it, she needs that.

“And,” she winks, “I’ve read both of your books and I know how talented you are. Even if it’s been a while for us to reconnect, I trust you much more than I trust a stranger to write a fair portrayal of me.”

It’s - the vulnerability that gets Sansa. The honesty, the earnestness, that draws her right in, and she finds herself agreeing.

So they go over some logistics in that meeting, and end with a handshake. And Margaery is wearing that little smile that makes Sansa’s stomach flip-flop even after so long, even though Margaery hasn’t done anything remotely unprofessional… And Margaery is wearing that smile because she just- Sansa is still Sansa. Some things have changed, of course, because no one stays the same after so much time passes, but there are things about Sansa that could never change, and she feels this rush of - something.

So, they communicate a bit through email/text, and then meet up again for a dinner meeting, the following week. And Sansa gets the feeling that Margaery might be hitting on her, somewhat. Which is a rush in and of itself, for her, too. Because Sansa hasn’t dated since her divorce, not really, and Margaery has this thing about her that has always always just set her on fire and made her feel like blushing and beautiful and…

But - no. This is Margaery, who broke her heart once, who is now in evenmore of an important position, who is literally in line to become the leader of the country – and so Sansa clears her throat at dinner and asks, “I know we have a, uh, a history. But this is - professional. You and I. Professional. Right?”

And Margaery smiles at her, even though entirely professional isn’t exactly what she wants, but she concedes…even before she quietly clears her throat, “Sansa, about the - the past-”

“I don’t think we need to talk about that,” Sansa interrupts, flushing, because it’s been so many years and she can still picture when Margaery broke up with her, when they’d met at the cafe, so clearly, and, “There’s no need. We grew, we moved on, and we’re, well, we’re here now.”

Which isn’t exactly what Margaery wants, because she wants Sansa to know so much about what she was feeling back then, and maybe she never really entirely moved on from that? She isn’t positive, she just knows no one else has ignited her the way Sansa does. She’s never felt the need to smile or that weird feeling in her stomach just from hearing from someone the way she does with Sansa, even after this time.

But if that’s what Sansa wants, she nods, and accepts it.

They keep working together, meeting every week. After a couple of weeks, things feel like they have a rhythm down, which is good and easy and just like it always is between them when other things don’t get in the way. They laugh about things and have some light hearted teasing and sort of re-get to know each other (and find that they are different in some ways, of course, but… still the same in others. They talk about their same love of tv shows and movies and books and share new things about their jobs. Sansa talks about Jeyne and Arya (who officially lives in KL now and they are closer now, even) and sort of about her daughter, but she actively has been trying to keep that barrier a bit because she needs to try to keep some boundaries. And Margaery eats every single detail up).

But Sansa does her best to try to redirect them back to Margaery, taking notes about her life and thoughts, and constantly reminding herself that she is there to do a job.

After about a month, Sansa has to cancel their meeting. Because, as she tells Margaery, she just has so much at home right now and she wishes she could go to their dinner, but she just can’t. She sounds so stressed - and Margaery takes the initiative.

She goes to Sansa’s, bringing dinner with her, and officially meets Sansa’s daughter - who is adorable and precocious and chatty after initially being a little shy. She talks to Margaery, all excited, because she recognizes thatshes “the council lady on the news that mommy watches” and asks all sorts of questions, like if Margaery really is in charge of everything and if she gets to have ice cream whenever she wants, etc. And seeing them together is like so surreal to Sansa and alarmingly nice which it SHOULDN’T BE and she sheepishly apologizes for all of Gemma’s loquaciousness after she puts her to bed, but Margaery waves her off, because she genuinely, really enjoyed it.

Things are quiet between them and it kind of leads them into talking more personally than they have been. 

About Margaery’s current wants and personal life (they’ve been talking a lot about her history and childhood during their other meetings, because that is where Sansa is starting in getting book material). But Sansa keeps thinking about Margaery and her daughter and ends up saying, “You were really good with her.”

Margaery is pleased and surprised that Sansa thinks so, “You don’t need to sound so surprised,” even if she’s very grateful, “She’s truly very cute. Very much like her mother,” it slipped out.

Sansa laughsa bit, and Margaery hesitantly asks - because she needs to know, “Where is her other mother?”

Sansa is quiet, her shoulders slumping after a moment, before she sighs, and unloads the story. About Arianne, the cheating, and her divorce. And about how she moved to the Westerlands, where she’s from, last year because her new wife’s sister is sick. Which Sansa understands, she supposes, but their daughter is here, and Sansa is essentially a single mother, now, and Arianne is supposed to take her for two weeks to the Westerlands in two weeks, but rescheduled it for the following month, which had resulted in Gemma being very upset and why Sansa had canceled their meeting.

Margaery eats upall of the information (and is pissed about the fact that Sansa’s wife cheated on her and is now all happily married and not here meanwhile Sansa raises their daughter primarily by herself but she holds it in). Before her hand falls to Sansa’s, which - touching isn’t something they do very often, but she can’t help it, “I think you’re truly incredible for doing it all, for the entire life you’ve built.”

And Sansa almost cries, really, because Margaery means it and she can see how much she means it, and she didn’t know how much it would mean to hear Margaery say that but it does. Then she scoffs out a little laugh and is like, “Yeah, and all of this comes from the woman who is doing it all. Everything you’ve ever wanted, en route to being the most successful woman in the country. You really are almost there.”

It truly almost slips out, the words WANT to come out, that she doesn’t really have it ALL…

Which leads into holding long eye contact… leaning in like magnets because how can they not… and they kiss. Starting off slow and exploring and just feeling and Sansa sighs against Margaery’s lips, her hands cupping her jaw softly because gods, there is just a way Margaery feels against her that is so - so Margaery.

And Margaery feels like she could devour Sansa, because this want inside of her is immediate and she feels like they left off in a way that was her own fault, but she never got closure on this door, and it feels like she’s been missing this for over a decade. They makeout on Sansa’s couch and it’s so good, and just when Margaery’s hands fall to her waist, Sansa pulls back.

She’s a little panicked and tells Margaery that they can’t. That it’s not at all agood idea and - so much could go wrong and… they can’t. Because she is panicking and there’s so much to think about, and Margaery sees that, and leaves to give Sansa space.

The next time they meet, a few days later, Sansa is determined to make sure that does NOT happen again (which is also a little rough because Margaery is so fucking attractive and she’s giving Sansa the looks like she wants to kiss her and -ugh). And so finally, she addresses the kiss, and wants to say it’s a mistake and – is floored when Margaery says that she doesn’t regret it at all, and that, in fact, she would like to kiss Sansa again, right now, in fact. Sansa leaves their meeting early and is reeling.

… but eventually gets brave and texts Margaery the next day to ask her professional questions about the next section of the biography. Which Margaery answers, quickly. And then also tells Sansa that she meant it when she said she wanted Sansa yesterday, and that she doesn’t want to push her at all, but she wants to be open this time around.

They end up sleeping together after a celebratory dinner because the first chunk of the book that Sansa got done was extremely well-received by the publisher. And afterwards, Marg spends the night at Sansa’s (because, damn it,she is In This, this time). They see Gemma the next morning, which - Sansa is all, mommy had an adult-friends sleepover, and Gemma is oblivious, but is enamored with Margaery, who is somewhat quickly rushed out by Sansa.

Sansa is having an internal crisis about what to do, because she is nervous about dating at all at this point in her life, isn’t open to being burned again, and definitely isn’t wanting for herself or her daughter to be subject to all of the comments that could/would be made by public medias if everything goes south if she was found out “being with” Margaery (and isn’t sure she wants her daughter all of the suddenin that spotlight at all)

But of course, she can barely control herself with Marg, because when has she ever been able to?

They sleep together a few more times, too and it’s all so familiar but also new, and it’s so exciting. For both of them. Like falling in love all over again but somewhat like they never left. Only, this time, for Margaery it’s something she wants, something she welcomes and she could cry with how much she feels like she’s been missing this, missing Sansa. And for Sansa, she is so unsure and worried…

Featuring a night, about a month into it, Sansa and Margaery are talking - Marg asks about if she’s excited for her “girls night” with Jeyne and Mya and Elia and a few others they’ve befriended along the way, and Sansa disappointed-sighs and says she is going to cancel, because her sitter cancelled on her. And before Margaery realizes it, she is volunteering to watch Gemma for the night.

Sansa pauses, like, “um really?” Because while Margaery has met Gemma a couple of times, it’s never been just the two of them and Sansa has sort of been trying to keep it like that, but the thought of it is so nice…

Margaery is also like WHAT AM I SAYING inside but, “Yes, of course,” slips out, because she wants to be closer to Sansa and getting to know Gemma more is a factor in that. One that she surprisingly isn’t terrified of or avoiding.

It ensues a scene with Loras, who is cracking up, “YOU’RE going to watch a CHILD?” because kids are obviously not something Margaery is around often.

But then she goes to Sansa’s place and Sansa gives her quick overview/instructions and is sort of reluctant to leave…

However, it turns out that Gemma at first is very satisfied with laying down and coloring and reading, especially because Margaery makes a lot of funny voices when it comes to reading aloud. They end up getting along well. Margaery paints her nails and Gemma is just really damn adorable because she is like a little Sansa in a few ways, which is more precious than Margaery could have thought.

She also gets Margaery to give her some lemon cakes by giving her the big-blue eyes, and when they’re sitting together at the kitchen table, she stares at Marg and asks, “Are you dating my mommy? Because my mom, my other mom, dated someone new and then left,” and she’s all downtrodden.

And there’s a moment for them, where Margaery feels the weight of those words, the weight of what she’s doing here - what she wants to do - with Sansa, as in be serious with her. She finds that she’s still not scared of it, though, and she gives Gemma a little smile, “I don’t think your mommy would leave you, for anything in this world.”

And Gemma smiles a little back at her, “You’re probably right.”

They end up falling asleep on the couch together, during which Gemma tells Margaery that she’d like if she came back for movies, especially if she’s dating her mom. And also if Margaery wants to come to school with her on career day, because “that would be cool.”

And gods be damned, Margaery thinks right in that moment she falls for Gemma, too.

And coming home from girls night - which featured Sansa getting called out on sleeping with Margaery and Jeyne absolutely screaming, “What fucking YEAR is it?!” - Sansa comes home and sees the two of them sleeping on the couch. Which of course melts Sansa’s very soft heart that she has been trying to keep tough to relatively no avail.

It all leads to a moment nearing the end of this, where Sansa is talking to Margaery for the biography, tentatively, about her love life. And she has to get all of her bravery to ask, “And… have you ever been in love?” She doesn’t know what she wants to hear, really, but she knows her heart is racing.

When Margaery stares at her she holds her gaze, as she feels her own heart pounding, “With one woman, yes.”

And Sansa’s breath rushes out, and tries to continue asking questions, trying to remain as objective as possible, starting to ramble a bit.

But Margaery interrupts her, standing from her desk as she speaks quietly but steadily, “I was in love when I was in my twenties, right before I won my first big election for the small council.” She rounds the desk to kneel in front of Sansa, “There was a woman who was both predictable and unpredictable in the best of both ways, kind and intelligent, and so very lovely, who was in love with me. I broke her heart, because I was too concerned with how it would effect my career. And I’ve spent fifteen years questioning and ultimately regretting that decision, and wondering what might have been if I hadn’t been so afraid.“ 

At some point, her eyes welled up with tears, because it’s all true and it feels so big inside of her, all of the times she’d spent wondering what if, what if.

Sansa’s heart is racing and she is this close to tears, as she’s frozen. And she… she doesn’t know what to do.

"I haven’t dated anyone seriously since my divorce,” comes out.

"I know, darling,” it feels so natural to say, and Sansa actually shivers at it, even as she shakes her head.

"I - I have a daughter.”

“Gemma is very lovable.”

“I… I’m scared,” she admits, because she is, that’s what it boils down to. Scared for her daughter, scared for herself, and…

“I’m not.”

“How can you not be?” Sansa was incredulous.

“Because everything I said to you is true, Sansa. I broke your heart because I was afraid and I can’t change that, but I’m out now, and I’m not afraid. I’ve done everything alone, just like I always thought I would. But I never thought it would be so lonely. And I want you to share it with, if you want me, too,” it’s really more begging than she’s ever done in her life, and she doesn’t want Sansa to leave her office, she - she feels like everything is so vulnerably on the line.

But Sansa’s hands are shaking and she tells her she just - she needs some time.

Which leads to both of them being miserable and Margaery tries to give her space, even as she thinks about how she’s sure that only Sansa will ever be this for her. This person who makes her feel so much, who she is so in love with, who makes her feel like everything is on the line. She doesn’t want to lose that, not again.

And Sansa… Sansa doesn’t know what to do at all. Until Margaery ends up coming to Gemma’s career day, shocking her, giving her an apologetic look, “I wouldn’t have come but Gemma, well, she asked me. And I’ll leave right after, I swear to you.”

Gemma beams at Marg while she speaks and tells Sansa that she likes the lady she’s dating, and there’s something in that moment that makes her feel like she should dive - so she follows Marg when she leaves, her heart in her throat.

And Sansa is actually, really, crying when she reaches her, her voice breaking, “You broke my heart. More than anyone ever has,” she admits, “I loved my wife, I really did, but even her cheating and ending our marriage… it was harder because of the situation, but I wasn’t as heartbroken, not nearly.”

Margaery stares at her, wide-eyed and she knows they’re in public and for this one moment, she can’t bring herself to care.

“There’s something about you, about you and me, that is just different. I thought it was because you were my first woman or maybe because you were the first person I really fell in love with, but I don’t - I don’t know how to explain. I don’t know anything other than the fact that it’s just the way it is,” she wipes at her cheeks, her hands shaking, her heart on the line it feels like, because everything with Margaery feels like that, and it always has.

But this time, Margaery’s eyes are big and soft and warm and there’s so much hope in them and there’s this rising feeling in her stomach, before Margaery reaches out and pulls her toward her, her arms wrapping around her waist, pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss Sansa.

Not in secret, not in fear, just - loving her, for real, and she can’t stop, even as she feels Sansa’s hands comb through her hair before holding her there.

“It’s the same way for me,” she murmurs when they part, “It always has been.”

[carmineclock]

Why Don't You Do Right

Snowman 11:10 PM

> Fade from black before Scratch's desk. "James.  We have a situation."

Scratch 11:13 PM

> You look up at her with eyes strained from reading. Why cant it ever be good news. "Oh good, Id begun to worry the quiet would last." > Sit up and prepare for the worst.

Snowman 11:14 PM

"Diamonds Droog's daughter is dead.  Three has killed her."

Scratch 11:17 PM

> Your first thought is that shes not really his daughter, but they never see it that way. "Trace has. I knew he shouldnt have been left alone. I assume hes on his way." > Youre actually a little impressed. Pissed, mostly. But still.

Snowman 11:21 PM

"Yes. Three, Five, and Seven here are on their way here. I will also call for Nepeta shortly. Five has known of it and has been covering for Three, perhaps since it occurred." > You light up a cigarette. "You know what this means."

Scratch 11:24 PM

> You stand and stretch, joints popping dully as you shake the exhaistion from your bones. "It could mean quite a many things, my dear. War, being the foremost."

Snowman 11:30 PM

"Diamonds torched the scene of the crime--a lashing out quite unlike him. Trace has brought war to our doorstep." > Take a deep drag. "It's only a matter of time before the Crew comes to our doorstep as well. Time we have lost a precious amount of while these...fucking imbeciles tucked tail and hid the truth from us to avoid consequences." > Blow the smoke at the ceiling. "If this were the old regime, they would be culled and recycled for parts the moment they walk through these doors. This is the last straw, James."

Scratch 11:37 PM

> That brutality is one of the many things you love about her. And she has a point, in this being the last straw. "A fair point, though humans are far more difficult to recycle than carapaces." > You set about making tea, strangely calm despite the slowly building rage. Maybe its shock. "We'll have to be ready, though preperations for defense can wait until I have all the details. The grievous misstep was in waiting to say anything. Selfish man, we'll have to do something about that terrible personality."

Snowman 11:44 PM

> You lean against the ledge of his desk, arms crossed, as you consider the back of his head. "I do not know all of the details myself.  So far as I was aware until a few minutes ago, there had only been a shadow magic fire that took out a funeral home in the Crew's territory.  I had Three and Five investigating--god." > Click your tongue distastefully. "They lied to me.  To my goddamned face.  Fin made some excuse, said Trace was still... I bet they never even left the comforts of their room.  I cannot... And to tell Clover before me.  Who else have they told?  What were they thinking."

Scratch 11:54 PM

> That pulls a frown across your previously placid face. That wont do at all. "That will be our opening, I should say. Whatever the war ahead brings, the lying must stop." > Your hand grips the kettle tightly, anger rising as steam billows around your face. Lies, deciet, fear, and cowardice to top ot all off. You should have nipped this in the bud before. "How is it such a small man can cause such large problems."

Snowman 11:59 PM

"By getting off as easily as we've been letting them." > You ash your cigarette and nearly miss the tray. "Should have broken every bone in their miserable goddamned bodies after all the backsass and trouble they've been giving us. Especially together..." > Chew your lip. "If only your lot were as easy to reprogram as my lot.  That would solve these issues in less than a heartbeat.  But it never should have gotten to this state in the first place.  How did it come to this?"

Clover 12:00 AM

> Knockknock, knockknock.

Scratch 12:02 AM

> Tea done, you call for him to enter. Though you werent expecting him first, you were expecting him. He likes to get involved,even when he shouldnt.

"Its true, there is something to be said about the faulyt of unruly soldiers lying in thoer commamders. I blame myself as much as them."(edited)

Clover 12:04 AM

> Let yourself in and close the door behind you, hands hooked behind your back and a rather somber expression on your face.

Scratch 12:06 AM

"Stay quiet, stay calm. If you make a scene, youre out. Understood?"

Clover 12:06 AM

"Understood."

Crowbar 12:16 AM

You lead the way to Doc's office. The door is cracked so you announce your arrival and let yourself in, standing aside so Trace can go ahead. You're both surprised and unsurprised to see Clover. You acknowledge him with a nod.

Trace 12:18 AM

> You're on your way, tailing right behind Crowbar. Time for the walk of shame. You pass him, and when you spot Clover on the way in- Urgh. Here you thought your heart - or you, for the matter - couldn't sink any lower. You enter and quietly wait in the middle of the room. Quiet, but far from calm. A stress headache is pounding in your head and being stared down by all three bosses and the guy next to them that probably hates you the most does not help in the slightest.

Fin 12:26 AM

Your face is still red from the slap you got from Snowman. You get inside the office  noding to your bosses and wishing you could hug your husband. Clover is completely ignored for now as you stand right next to Trace hands behind your back

Nepeta 12:31 AM

You finished quickly  throwing on some clothes and trying to wash your tears away. Water doesn't hide your bloodshot eyes though, or the fact that your hair hasn't seen a brush today so far. You look like a mess, fitting to your mental state. You briefly glance at Fin and Trace as you enter the office but quickly look at your bosses instead. Less painful.

Snowman 12:36 AM

You remain poised, leaned against the edge of Scratch's desk, arms crossed tight over your chest.  The cigarette between your lips is smoldering, filling the air with its smoke, but it is not near so smoldering as the glare you send around the room.

Clover 12:39 AM

Fin is likewise ignored as he enters, but for Trace you briefly glance to his eyes before tearing your own away. Nepeta, though, is given a sympathetic look and an attempt at a tiny smile.

Scratch 12:54 AM

An absolute party, and you, the ever gracious and gentle host, will be the one to kick things off, as it has always been. "Now then," You say, standing behind your desk. "Lets start with the facts, only. We can deal with emotions later. As it stands, and as I have it, Trace has taken it upon himself to end the life of Diamonds Droogs adoptive daughter, one Aradia Megido. Resulting in a funeral parlor in crew territory being burned. After this, an investigation of the events was carried out by Trace and Fin. Those are most of the facts, but we are missing some." Deep breath, steady eyes, looking around the room slowly. " Snowman, Crowbar, when were you notified of Traces actions, and by whom. Trace, how many days has it been since you killed the troll girl. Fin, when did the investigation of the fire take place. Nepeta, what was your roll in this. All facts we must add together to have the full picture."

Crowbar 12:58 AM

You stand in front of the door like a sentry, holding your crowbar behind you. "I found out moments ago, sir. I instructed Trace to inform the rest of the Numbers promptly before being called into your office."

Trace 1:11 AM

More people enter, first Fin, and then Nepeta. You turn your head just enough to recognize her, then fix your eyes back towards the front. On the desk, not Scratch himself. You can't stand to face anyone right now, but least of all your lovers. You've managed to drag them even deeper into this. Great. You collect your thoughts to answer to Scratch. "I have killed her on New Years Eve." (Which would be maybe a day ago. No more than a day and a half. This should be the evening or night of the 1st, considering Trace didn't want to wait too long after talking with Kankri.) With that, your response to Doc should have been finished. He's not looking for more words from you just yet, you know that. But if there's any time left to do stupid mistakes, it is now. Quickly, before anyone else can speak up, you continue. "When given the order to investigate, I knew it would be too dangerous, with police and crew about and surely watching the scene. Green would have been more than a bad look. So I told Fin to stay put while I figure out how to approach you with this topic. Nepeta has purposefully not been involved in any of this. The plan was mine, and mine alone."

Fin 1:24 AM

After Trace finishes you clear your throat and answer " I did not follow Snowman instructions of investigating the burned  building , I wanted to give Trace time to talk about the truth to all of you and because as Trace mentions it was a dangerous thing to do"

Nepeta 1:37 AM

You do look at Trace when he speaks, even though it hurts. He wants to talk for you and you aren't sure how much you appreciate that right at this moment. You know he means well but it leaves a small frown on your face. You speak up on your own anyways. "I was unaware about all of this until the day after, when Trace confessed to me.  I should have immediately contacted you but..." But you didn't want to rat them out, even after they hurt you. You don't think you have to spell it out. "I only told Clover. I'm sorry."

Snowman 1:51 AM

You clutch tighter to the inside of your elbow, eyes leveled between Trace and Fin both.  "I knew of the fire shortly after it happened, and had tasked both Three and Five with investigating it, should it prove to useful to us.  I found out about the murder a few minutes ago, when Clover called me and forced Fin into a position to confess to me."

Clover 2:42 PM

Discontent and distaste boils in your stomach as you watch all of them, though still all your expression shows is a deep worry for Nepeta. She's the worst hit here, and she never deserved this. You wish you could help.

Scratch 4:20 PM

You let each of them speak in turn, waiting patiently, logging the information to write down for later. The timeline is slowly filling in, giving you a much better picture. "So there it is, all the facts are out in the open. The deed was done a day or so prior, and it was only today that any of those with actual power found out. Very interesting." You let that sit for a moment as you pour yourself some tea. "So, then, as it stands, of the three of you, none of you are without fault. Nepeta, yours is the least, only in that you told no one despite having the information. For that, consider this your second strike. Im sure Traces actions will find a way to punish you further. Fin, your fault is almost equal to that of Traces. You knew of his plans, allowed them to take place, and not only that, when given an express order from your superior, you ignored it in favor of your lovers instructions. If it was dangerous, if it was a bad idea, then you should have blamed Trace for whatever may have occured. Instead you decided not to follow orders because you knew. You knew what would happen. You should be on your knees, begging for forgiveness, because Snowman will be in charge of your punishment, as it was her order you shirked." Your eyes turn to Trace, thin, icy, a muted rage in their depths. Your gut had warned he would do sometging stupid, but you trusted him.

"As for you, Trace. You dont get hand out instructions. How dare you contradict Snowmans order. If something befell Fin in this investigation, then he should have suffered the consequences doing his duty. The plan was yours alone? Are you an idiot? Did you really think your actions wouldnt effect others around you, especially those closest to you? If you needed time to approach us, all that tells me is that you knew what you did was the wrong move. Nepeta was left out of it? Really? After eveeything shes been through with Droog, you think this incredible offense wont effect her going forward far more than it will you? Cruel, cowardly man, to bring ruin on your own partners" Your tone turns darker. "Worst of all, Trace. Worst of all, is that you left it for us to find out. Fearful of the reprecussions? You dont know fear. But you will. A man who knows fear does not make fruitless mistakes for the sake of his own vanity. It seems our last talk left less of an impression than Id hoped. So let me make this clear. You are going to lose everything. The specifics will take time, we will have plenty of time to go over them. Snowman, please escort Fin and Nepeta out of my sight. Crowbar, stay, I will have need of you."

Crowbar 2:26 AM

You can't help but swallow, your collar feeling tight around your throat as Doc speaks. Even though he deserves it, you empathize with Trace. He is your friend at the end of the day. You fear he will not be the same person for very long. Stepping aside, you leave room for Fin and Nepeta to exit.

Trace 2:30 AM

You listen with quiet horror. Of course, not even a day was good enough. Of course all of it is getting turned against you. When the strike for Nepeta is mentioned, you go as pale as your green skin can. You open your mouth in protect, but you don't say anything. Bullshit. That's. That's not okay. That's not fair. Your mouth closes as Scratch continues with your own repercussions, almost numb to what you hear. A loud ringing takes over your senses. Fuck. You're frozen to the spot. He didn't say that you're dismissed yet. Even if, you're not sure if your legs could carry you with how weak in the knees you feel. From the sound of it, your first punishment may be delivered by Crowbar himself. Great. Not like threatening and punishing your lovers was already bad enough.

Fin 2:38 AM

Your eyes are ringing with the blood that is flushing when you hear about Nepeta's strike. This was not the way you two intended things to go, even with Trace assuming all the blame you know you were there to encourage him and offer him help so obviously you are partially to blame for what happened too but she didn't deserve this at all. You almost miss the moment when Scratch dissmisses you as you were too tense and that shows in the way your shoulders slouch once you have to walk out of the office. As you get escorted outside you take a second to reach for Trace's hand and touch it for a second, you wanted to say so many things but you just softly whisper that you will be waiting for him.

Trace 2:56 AM

Your heart skips a beat when you feel Fin's touch, but you don't dare looking up at him, nor at Nepeta when she follows him. You don't need to see their worried looks. You know them well enough to imagine how concerned they might be about you, the idiot that got them into this, while the guilt over the trouble you caused them is already quickly eating away at you.

Snowman 10:34 PM

You feel nothing much beyond, perhaps, pity for the part of Nepeta, though even that is minimal in light of the circumstances.  Though you are curious to know what will lie beyond this door once it closes behind you, you have other things on your mind: namely, the man already slinking out of the door ahead of you.  Nodding to James, you take Nepeta lightly by the elbow and steer her out of the room, eyes fixated on the back of Fin's head as you walk.

Clover 10:53 PM

Some part of you deeply wants to get up and bolt out the door to follow her, to protect her, to be her lucky charm- but you know there's nothing you can do until this is through. You watch them go until the door closes, and then you watch Scratch alone.

Scratch 1:17 AM

Silence takes the room as they file out, and you find a sort of solemn sadness taking the place of anger. Youd trusted Trace. Of course he was always going to be an idiot, but you never expected...well, it doesn't matter now. "So here we are." You say quietly, in almost a whisper. "You know, however it may seem, Ive always had high hopes for  you, Trace. Youre strong, and  fiercely loyal." Thin, gloved fingers trace the rim of your teacup idly. "It had been my hope to one day groom you for leadership. You have everything youd need, except the brains. Youre not half as smart as you think you are, Trace. You dont know, but you act like you do. Did the thought ever occur to you that I might actually want the girl dead? That there were ways to take her out that may have benefited us all? I hope you understand that youre not being punished because you killed her. Its not so simple." You sigh, looking up to Crowbar and beckoning him over with a sharp flick of the wrist. "You need to learn to think before you do, Trace. That the things you do effect other people. That there are other ways than your ways. I know you hate me, I dont pretend to be kind or pleasant, but I do know what Im talking about. Its why Im in charge, and have been for longer than youve been alive. When I call for your respect, its not because I think Im better than you, its because I have experiences that can help you be better and I want you to learn, I all but begged you to learn. Unfortunately now you have to learn the hard way." You move around your desk, standing in front of it now. "Its going to be a slow, painful process, but with any luck, youll come to understand why this has to happen. Come here, hold your arm out, place your hand face down on the desk."

Trace 3:39 AM

Suddenly the room felt much quieter, despite the fact that barely anyone but him has talked the whole time. Maybe it's also just your senses your senses going more and more numb by the second. What a lecture, all these wonderful backhanded compliments, just as he's about to give you probably the worst time of your life. You're left with a sour taste in your mouth when he mentions all his grand plans. Groom you for leadership. God, just what you need, a job you hate even more. You try not to look around the room much, eyes still fixed on the desk, the very platform that's about to become your scaffolding. You do take notice that Clover didn't leave the room yet though. Does he really want to watch this? Boy, does he hate you that much now. You welcome any thought that distracts you from what's about to happen, but this train of thought leads you to even more unpleasant places. Makes you wonder just how flippant his feelings are, or if he ever really cared about you if he is so easily swayed. You know what is expected of you and step forward. You briefly consider which hand to offer since it hasn't been specified - they're your most important tools after all - but decide on your right one, keeping the one with the ring safe, if at all possible.

Crowbar 8:33 AM

If you're nervous, it doesn't show. You take a swift breath and approach as you are motioned to do. You stand by Trace, a chill running through your veins to numb any sense of sentimentality. You have to distance the personal from the business. Looming over Trace, you turn your attention to Doc, awaiting further instruction.

Scratch 7:42 PM

"Nothing to say? You pleaded so nicely for Fin and Nepeta, nothing for yourself? The bravado died rather quickly once your lovers left, you may want to think about why that is." From your jacket pocket you pull out a dark green marker. Such a damn shame. Not only do you have Trace's mistakes to clean up, you also have to ruin a perfectly nice suit. Whatever his flaws, the boy has has style. You step over to his outstretched arm, eyes wandering up until you find a spot you prefer. Its so hard to stay classy when doing dirty work, but you do what you can. You mark the middle of his arm, drawing a fat line across his sleeve. You think the instructions speak loud and clear, so you pop the top of the marker back on and tuck it back into your pocket. Now you'll see what Crowbar's word is worth.

Trace 8:38 PM

You stay quiet. No, nothing else to say. What would even be the point? Beg for forgiveness? There's nothing that will sway Scratch from his ruling, and frankly you had it coming, right? And the last thing you need is talking yourself even deeper into trouble. You purse your lips and close your eyes, preparing for the pain. You don't need to watch that, you'll be feeling it soon enough. If anything, you're sorry for Crowbar having to do this.  He's stern and hard-working, sure, but still caring at his core.

Crowbar 8:42 PM

You watch Scratch carefully and when he watches you, in turn, you know it is your time to step forward. Gripping your crowbar tight, you focus on the line drawn on Trace's arm. Your heart gives a single empathetic squeeze before the cold steals away your remorse. A job is a job. You plan to do yours well. Without a word, you raise your weapon up and bring it down with a sickening crack.

Clover 8:45 PM

You flinch, just a bit, as the weapon swings down. You don't have the job that he does for a reason- you don't know how to willingly remove yourself from someone you've spent so much of your life with. You didn't watch.

Trace 8:57 PM

A sharp excruciating pain shoots through your arm. You do your best to hold back your reaction lest someone out there hears you. It's not quite a yell, but an agonized grunt escapes you. As the pain dulls, your head starts getting dizzy and you slowly sink down onto your knees before your body can force you. Last thing you want is to pass out right here. You pull your arm close to your body, lean against the desk for some support and wheeze heavily as you wait for further instructions. God, he better not plan to break any more bones.

Scratch 10:09 PM

Your eyes never stray. You watch the crowbar hits its mark, the way his arms snaps like a biscuit under the weight of the blow. This is your order, and you'll see it through. Theres no room to flinch, or to look away, not for you, not for Crowbar. He did well. In a world of self serving men, you're glad for someone like him. "Well struck, Crowbar." You compliment easily, eyes moving down now to Trace as he falls. You have more to say to him, but not here. Not on the showroom floor. "Though I really should  have the other one as well, we'll let that stew for a bit before taking any more. Please escort Trace down to the  holding cells."

Crowbar 10:12 PM

"Yes, sir." You slip a hand under Trace's good arm, hoisting him up to his feet and placing him between you and the door. "Come on, Three," you say, an almost gentle tone hiding beneath the stern command, "You know the way."

Clover 10:24 PM

It's been some time since you felt your heart pound with so much raw emotion that you can't even pin down what it is. Your chin is tilted down to the floor, and you await your father's comment or command.

Trace 10:39 PM

You go along with Crowbar. You have little intention to resist any of that, but his support certainly helps getting up and walking out of the door. Off to the cells, huh. Sure will be an unpleasant night, it seems.

Scratch 10:48 PM

So the curtain falls on another show, well performed all around. The only one who reacted differently than you expected was Clover, but you have your own reasons for wanting him to be here. You turn to him as they leave, stepping between them and him as the door shuts behind them. It was important for him to be here, as far as you're concerned, there was more accomplished here than just the breaking of bones. "My, that was certainly exciting, wasnt it?" You say cooly, tilting your head towards him. You wonder if it was worth it for him. You wonder if he was glad to be here.

Clover 12:20 AM

"You could call it that," you reply with a shrug. Your expression is something around the ring of neutral, and you lean against his desk. Your heart cries at you to chase Trace down to the cells, to tell Nepeta everything as soon as possible. You silence it.  "Word I'd use is tiring."

Scratch 9:19 PM

"Tired, are you?" You move back around your desk and pull out your notebook and a pen. "It seems to me the tiring times are only just beginning. Especially for you and your position so delicately balanced between the factions." You start writing. It will be easier for you to remember all the information if you write it down for later. This is just one of many outrages you have documented.

Clover 9:23 PM

"Shocker, right?" You shoot him a lopsided smile, stare up at the ceiling. "Everything I've worked for is going to have to be rebuilt."

Scratch 9:40 PM

"Hmm. Can it be rebuilt? Thats good to hear." Youre only half listening now, trying to recount things as they happened. You still have to clean Traces room out and also go and see him in the holding cells. "Do you regret being here when it happened, or the part you played in it all?'

Clover 9:46 PM

You consider it for a fair moment, as you often do before you give him his answers. Would you have rathered someone else in your place? Would you have preferred that you didn't act as you did? "....No."

Scratch 9:55 PM

Interesting. Such a complicated boy, this one. Even though he didnt watch, he still preferred to be here for it. "They certainly wont thank you for it." They meaning Trace and Fin, if you have a proper understanding of their relationship, that is. But youre glad he was here, and that he stayed. It shows them how much more hes like you than them. "Ah, just for my own curiosity, when did Nepeta tell you about all of this, and how long after Fin explained the situation to you did you involve Snowman?"

Clover 10:24 PM

"About an hour and a half or so ago I spoke with Nepeta, then immediately sought out Trace. Once I had spoken with Trace, I left him to make the decision if he was going to inform Crowbar of the situation as he should himself and sought out Fin. I found him not long before this meeting was called and called Snowman shortly after confirming he was complicit in the plan."

Scratch 4:18 PM

You make a note of it. An hour isnt bad at all, timing is everything in these matters. In most matters, really. Not that you would honestly know how to punish Clover if he did make the wrong move. Lucky for both of you he's smart enough to know better. "Right. If thats all for now then, you're dismissed. Please keep in mind that Trace is not allowed visitors." Except for you, but you're the exception to all rules, considering you make them.

Clover 4:24 PM

"No hug or gossip?" > Little smile. "I s'pose you've got a lot to do."

Scratch 4:31 PM

You smile, taking a pause in your writing. "Unfortunately you're right, theres much to do. In any event, I didnt think you would be in the mood for a hug, everything considered. Last I recall you were rather close to those three."

Clover 4:41 PM

"You'll get it eventually," you say, the tiniest hint of teasing in your voice.

Scratch 8:55 PM

Honestly, you're not entirely sure what he means. Whats there to get. "What is it I'm meant to be getting?"

Clover 9:03 PM

"Me, of course!" > It's on that note that you turn to leave, humming.

Scratch 10:01 PM

You dont go back to writing right away. Why do you feel like he got you? Did you just get got? Whatever. You have too much to do, and as always both too little and too much time to do it.

Trace 12:57 AM

Shortly before arriving at the cells, you stop. It's hard to think or remember much of the conversation through the fog of pain and shock, but parts are slowly coming back and one hits you especially hard. 'You're going to lose everything.' It's hard to imagine the extent that Scratch means, but if he says everything... you have little doubt that he very much means everything. "Crowbar. Can I- can I make a request."

Crowbar 1:01 AM

You pause. Take a deep breath. Doc might not appreciate you showing hesitation or concern in this situation but he isn't exactly around. Can't hurt to hear him out. You ask, "What is it, Trace?"

Trace 1:05 AM

You wince a little as you let down your broken arm, now without support, as your other digs into your pocket. You pull out a little bundled tissue, inside the rings from your most recent engagement. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should really dare to ask. But you're not sure what else Scratch got planned for you and you don't want to put these at risk if you can avoid it. "Could you... give these back to Nepeta?"

Crowbar 1:09 AM

You furrow your brow, taking the tissue and inspecting the rings. Your mouth opens and closes as your mind conjures up conflicting responses. Cold, warm, understanding, curt... You can't decide. With a heavy sigh, you tuck the rings safely into your breast pocket. "Anything you'd like me to tell her?" you ask.

Trace 1:20 AM

That's actually more than you expected. You think for a moment, trying to find the right words. "That I trust her. I want to trust her. I really do." You blink a few times as tears are welling up again. You wanted to tell her yourself, but you're not even sure when you'll get the chance for that. "Thank you.."

Crowbar 1:24 AM

You nod, patting the rings hidden away on your chest. You keep your words of sympathy to yourself but you feel it goes without saying. You continue on your way, regardless of your heavy heart.

Trace 1:25 AM

You follow, at least one little worry lighter, but still too many remain.

[anything-advice-blog]

Submission - relationship problems that are driving me insane and could hurt someone i care about

For the record, I’ll just have you know I’m a girl in high school who’s DEFINITELY somewhere on the spectrum of asexuality (I’m not aromantic and I’ve masturbated multiple times in the past and I’m pretty sure I’m bi but with a romantic preference for guys…but if I were to ever do something physical I’d probably prefer it with a girl tbh?? idk if that’s weird or if that information was neccessary but in case it helps)

So I’m kind of in a relationship with this guy, and trust me, he’s amazing. He’s extremely caring and compassionate and loves me very much. Of course, he wants to get physically intimate (nothing huge, just maybe hand holding or hugging or cuddling or whatever). We’re both fifteen and very socially awkward nerds, and openly aware of it. Neither of us have kissed anyone yet, like not at all, and he’s asked multiple times if he can kiss me, and every single time I’ve turned him down. We have many deep philosophical conversations, also some about science and politics (though he knows a lot more than I do), and he’s just truly profound and brilliant and emotional but rational. He’s very empathic, open minded and understanding, guided by a strong moral compass…not to mention he’s a huuuuge meat lover and I’m actually succeeding in turning him vegan (logic and ethics always get to him). Thing is, I’m not easily fooled by men and their lies. I’m fully conscious when someone is acting/lying or gold-digging, and when I’m being manipulated, and I’ve known this guy VERY WELL for like two years now. We were best friends before we decided to tell each other how we feel, and he is very honest and sincere. He doesn’t try to act like something he’s not and while he’s polite, he truly doesn’t care what others think of him. We’ve both had psychological problems in the past and have counselled each other and helped each other through it (although I think I’ve helped him a lot more than he’s helped me. He’s been in a constant depressive state for like three years and honestly probably would’ve still been really depressed and unhappy if I hadn’t come along…obviously a three-year depression can’t go away completely just like that but for the first time in forever he’s really, truly happy). I make him incredibly happy and I know how much he loves me. In fact, he knows I’m uncomfortable with physical affection and is literally willing to wait as long as it takes for me. I mean, dude. The guy is fucking amazing. He’s super clingy and mushy and lovey-dovey and he knows I hate that shit so he’s trying to cut down on it as much as possible and give me space to let me breathe, and he’s in it for the long term. Dude. He actually wants to spend the rest of his life with me and no other girl.

 But.

Here’s the big fat fucking problem. There’s two obstacles in the way of our happiness together. There’s me. There’s my fucked up mind. I’ve done this before with another guy, who actually happens to be one of his friends. See, this guy was (is) smart, and although he’s not as deep and philosophical as my current “boyfriend”, he was super chill and understanding. Truly amazing. He liked me for exactly who I was and constantly told me I was beautiful and smart, that I was worth it and enough and deserved the best. Kind of like my current boyfriend, he reassured me and reminded me to love myself and help me get over some fears of mine. 10/10 Tumblr’s dream boyfriend. And I eventually got bored of him somehow. My attraction began to fade until I had no romantic feelings for him whatsoever and I dumped him. The worst part is that I didn’t even dump him. I just ignored him until he got the hint. He picked up on it pretty quickly, too. After a few days of texting “I love you, I don’t want to lose you, I feel like you don’t like me anymore, what’s wrong, are you okay?” he finally just gave up. I avoided him like the plague until time made us strangers again, and now the two of us don’t acknowledge the past at all. It’s like it never happened. We just pretend it never existed and have never mentioned the giant elephant in the room, and now we just hang out regularly with our group of friends and joke like we used to.

First obstacle, like I said, is my fucked up mind. Here’s the thing about me. I’m what people call a heartbreaker, which honestly sounds cool and sexy and glamorous, the way strong empowered women who eat men for breakfast are glorified in edgy pop songs, but it’s honestly a psychological problem. And I’m not popular or slutty or anything, I’m just one of those girls, a tease who doesn’t know what the fuck she wants. And I don’t want to be one of those fantasy tough badass bitches that every heartbroken girl aspires to be, those who chew hearts up, spit them out and leave them in the dust. I don’t want to hurt good people. My current boyfriend doesn’t deserve me, but he also doesn’t deserve getting his heart broken. And I’m terrified because I can practically feel how crushed he’d be. He’d never get over it. If I dumped him, it would haunt him forever and I’d lose my best friend because we won’t be able to talk openly anymore. I’ll heal eventually (pretty soon actually), but he’d never be the same.

Another thing. I have really severe anxiety, multiple forms of it diagnosed by a professional, and avoidant personality disorder. I don’t confront my problems. Anything even slightly out of my comfort zone, I just can’t face directly. I can’t even present in front of a class. Today I cut class cause of a presentation I was totally ready for…I literally had like eleven lines of dialogue…but I skipped because the class was full of judgemental ass Enhanced students who already knew I was like four levels dumber than them. I just couldn’t deal with it. I avoid everything and then it just piles up until I just break down and have a serious twenty-minute panic attack. 

Not to mention I’m super weird with affection and don’t want to hug or cuddle or hold hands or god forbid kiss, let alone do anything even remotely sexual. I just don’t like other people touching me. Romantic physical gestures just make me tense up and I get super awkward. Now, I’m not sure if my asexual ass is just wired this way or if I’m just really young and inexperienced and will get used to it in time. Maybe it’s cause I’m fifteen and overthink everything and am always super uncomfortable, or maybe this condition is permanent. Either way, I also fear longterm commitment

Okay. Second obstacle.

Of course, there’s another guy.

This guy I’ve liked for almost five years. Literally, since the first day of middle school when I first laid eyes on him, I was completely infatuated. All my dreams and fantasies were of him. Like, in my mind, we have already been married for decades and had three children (okay not literally, my biggest fear is actually having kids…my worst nightmares are of pregnancy and labor and giving birth and raising human beings and paying rent/taxes/bills and public transit and adulting but you get what I’m saying).

And guess what? My current boyfriend and I officially started going out the day after Valentine’s Day, this year. Because on Valentine’s Day, I found out the love of my life had a girlfriend.

(Actually, he has multiple flings and one girl I think is serious, but she’s long distance and both of them are perfectly okay with each other hooking up with other people while they’re not in the same country. Every year he goes overseas for the summer and during the summer they’re an official couple, but every other day of the year they literally tell each other everything. Like about the different people in their life and who they’ve hooked up with, and they’re both perfectly fine with it for some reason?? I don’t get it. It’s not even a polyamorous relationship. The guy just has a bunch of side hoes who he feels no emotional attatchment to…and, he reassured me, it’s completely mutual…and he just sometimes gets physical with when he’s lonely. But all of them know they’re not the only girls in his life and are okay with it because he’s also not the only guy in their life and they don’t like each other, they just make out or whatever?? Honestly, I don’t understand how it works at all but whatever.)

 So my dilemma is that you can’t get over a crush…just like that. And the funny thing is, my current boyfriend is the only reason that middle school crush of mine even knows I exist now.

Okay, I think I should start using code names now;

X = current boyfriend, Y = middle school crush with a lot of side chicks

It’s hilarious because Y is the hot popular stereotypical fuckboy (or at least I thought he was…he’s not as shallow or superficial, and he’s aware of his ego and tries his best not to act as entitled/obnoxious as those douchebag friends of his that he doesn’t even like, and he’s actually really emotional but doesn’t show it and never lets himself be vulnerable) and he never once batted an eye in my direction, and NOW we are actually really good fucking friends.

All because of X.

See, X knew I liked Y, and although he liked me (a lot!), he pushed those feelings aside to help set me up with Y, because he considered my happiness more important than his own (and still does, which is why it’s so difficult to ever break his heart and I feel ridiculously guilty for even thinking like this). He got us talking, and now although Y is one of those hypersocial extroverts that adapts to their environment really easily and can fit in literally anywhere (the guy doesn’t have a specific clique, he can literally just hang out with anyone), he actually chooses to spend his lunches with my group of friends. And I’m not trying to make it sound like he’s gracing us with his superior presence and aura of popularity and coolness. He genuinely enjoys our company. I’ve noticed that although he’s ultracool and popular and everyone wants to hang out with him, he’s always just wandering alone with his earbuds in. Guy’s a loner by choice because he’s sick of his usual crowds…they’re either street thugs, drug lords and juvenile delinquents who are a really bad influence on him (I’m talking like the actual hood here, filled with criminals, gangfights and crystal meth), or the seriously dumb brain-fried stoners who do nothing but play video games and talk shit (these people are seriously stupid…they can barely form coherent sentences and have all dropped out of or failed school) OR the plastic popular crowd (who are all super fake, self centred and obsessed with their image).

He’s been making an effort to distance himself from these people. And it’s not that he’s one of us now. He’s not a meme-obsessed nerd who always cracks sick jokes about drugs and sex but has literally zero experience with any of it, because although we all have a dark, dry, fucked up sense of humor, we work hard, care about school and homework/chores and family duties, and get good grades, alwhile having our own geeky hobbies and quirks and pleasures, like computer programming or gaming or music or visual art and Photoshop. (X and my ex are both into computer programming, although X is a lot better and is basically kind of a genius when it comes to computer tech and programming. Y is a pitch perfect musical prodigy who composes amazing songs, can pick up on the chords to a new one in five minutes after listening to it for the first time, and can play the guitar and harmonica at the same time expertly. They’re both super talented and passionate about these things. If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about their personalities, I don’t know what will.)

Sorry. I’m getting too into detail

Thing is, I don’t think I love either of them. Or I might love both of them in different ways. But the thing is, I don’t know what love is. I don’t know if I can love. And I want to be loyal and devoted to X and love him as much as he loves me but it’s so damn hard with Y around. I don’t think I love Y as much as I love the idea of Y. I just love the way Y makes me feel. He’s kind of unstable and unpredictable (exactly the kind of wild mad love affair you want in high school but won’t last a day after grad) and a life with him would be fun. I’d never be bored, and I’d constantly feel the same rush of adrenaline I’ve always felt around him. You know, the typical stomach butterflies and pounding/racing heart and blood rushing to your brain, making you act crazy and be bold and do daring things. I’m somewhat of a thrill seeker.

But here’s the thing.

A relationship with Y, any plain fool could see, will not last. Let’s say, hypothetically, he does feel something for me. (He probably doesn’t, although X and my best female friend have said they’ve noticed something different about his behavior around me.) What then? We flirt, he gets me to smoke a joint or two, then eventually he pushes for deeper physical intimacy and I’m super nervous around him and want to take it ridiculously slow (because, let’s face it…if I’m uncomfortable doing anything with X, I’ll be awkward and self conscious as hell with Y). After a while, he gets tired of my unwillingness to reciprocate his sexual needs and calls up one of the many girls waiitng in line.

 Now, I’m not saying he’d do this. He himself has told me today that he doesn’t want a romantic relationship at the moment, just light flings that everyone’s chill with, but if he were to meet a girl he was serious about spending the rest of his life with, he would immediately tell all of his Saturday night hookups that he has a girlfriend and he would be committed in the long term. But I have trust issues bordering on paranoia. I’m suspicious of everyone. Especially him.

 A relationship with X, however.

X isn’t as physically attractive as Y is. Y is tall and blond and toned and takes great care of his appearance. He works out at the gym and has a haircut that costs more than ten bucks and actually wears clothes that he knows make him look hot. X actually has a very handsome facial structure and in ten, twenty, thirty years, X is going to fill out his scrawny skin-and-bones build and look a lot better than Y will.

And I know he loves me and cares for me and will never leave me, no matter what, or try to push me out of my comfort zone or make me do anything I don’t want to do. He wants what’s best for me and just wants me to be happy and healthy, even if it means sacrificing his own best interests in the process. That I can be sure of. The guy has no ulterior motives. He’s genuine and open and tells me things even if it’s embarrassing (and honestly sometimes I wish he would know where to draw a line when sharing shit, if you know what I mean). And unlike hedonistic Y, who drinks and smokes, X cares way too much about his neurons and physical/mental health in general to do anything like that.

Now, you probably see no dilemma. You’re thinking, “What the fuck is wrong with this kid? Where the fuck was X when I was in high school? Is X even real? He’s literally every girl’s dream. Y is a self destructive brain damaged stereotypical misogynistic fuckboy and that will never change.”

Well, it’s the current way they make me feel.

X was the best best friend I could ask for, back when we were nothing but best friends. He was someone I shared a deep bond with, a very close personal connection that was definitely more than platonic. There was always this chemistry. We just clicked.

But right now, he’s starting to bum me out. And no. It’s definitely not him. It’s just me. I know everyone’s heard this a million times but it’s true. He’s not doing anything wrong or different. His presence is simply smothering. I feel like I can’t breathe. (Not in a romantic way. In a miserably suffocating way.)

I have no idea what’s wrong with me or why I feel this way. It’s entirely possible that I only feel like this because I’m not quite over Y yet, and if I just give it time and hang on for a few more months, I’ll forget about Y and learn to truly appreciate X.

But what if I don’t? What if we just grow so distant that in the end I push him away completely because I can’t having Y so close yet so far away?

(Okay, this is starting to sound really dramatic and edgy. But seriously.)

My dilemma is that if I dump X, he’ll be heartbroken and I won’t be able to live with myself (okay not literally but the guilt would drive me insane) and he’d be really depressed (which he doesn’t deserve and goddammit I love him, I don’t want him to be unhappy). But stay with X and not tell him anything, I’LL be unhappy. I’ll suffer because Y, the guy I’ve been hopelessly in love with since the beginning of time, the guy I’ve always dreamt was my soulmate and would be my forever, is standing right there just out of reach…not to mention it would be horribly unfair to X to hide and pretend and act like everything’s okay. I’d be living a lie.

(And the worst part, if I cheat on X with Y. Like, what the fuck am I thinking?? Who am I anymore??? Don’t worry, I’m definitely not actually planning on doing it. Ever. I’d hate myself forever.)

Either way this goes, I’m guilty. I’m either a cheater, a liar, or a heartbreaker. Whichever way this goes, I’m a horrible person.

Unless we go for the scariest but most morally right scenario. I tell X exactly what’s going on. We talk about it, then I decide if I should tell Y. The problem is, this road is so unpredictable, full of twists and turns. It’s ethical, but it’s terrifying and could result in tension all around.

My question is; seriously, is there ANY way to deal with this where EVERYONE is happy??

(I’ll take “moderately content” by this point.)

 It was extremely difficult to admit my feelings to myself. I know it’s wrong. That’s why I’m writing you. I’m so sorry about this long-ass novel. It probably sounds like the most dramatic clichè ever but human emotions are a lot more complicated than that and I want to know how to be happy without hurting anyone, because so far, every scenario I’ve played out in my head, no one really wins. I really need advice on this from someone older and more experienced. Insight from multiple sources with different opinions would be very much appreciated. Thank you so much for this blog, and for taking the time to actually read through all of this. Sorry it’s so long.

(P.S. I think I forgot to mention that X and I are kind of the unofficial school therapists. Everyone trusts X 100%, and he knows literally everyone’s deepest darkest secrets and has never uttered a word about them to anyone. Also, a lot of people seem to think I’m trustworthy and confide in me, although I see myself as somewhat of a mild gossip, and they seek help from me. Y is currently my only “patient”. He has a serious weed problem and has even considered mushrooms once but I talked him out of it, thankfully. He lives for new psychedelic/spiritual experiences and I’m helping him quit smoking and develop a more sensible, stable mindset. My “nurturing methods”, as he called them, are quite effective, according to him, and although I don’t see much progress, he claims I’ve helped him a lot since we met.

P.P.S. You know how I cut class today? I skipped with him and we had a very long and enlightening conversation and he told me a bunch of personal stuff and then I kind of told him about my problem with X and relationships in general. I said I wasn’t affectionate or romantic and didn’t like clingy partners and always pushed people away, but I didn’t tell him he was a big part of the reason my attraction to X was fading. Seriously. I’d rather die. And now Y and my mother are the only humans on earth who know X and I are drifting apart.

P.P.P.S. Y told me to keep X. He told me that he could see how much X loved me and how happy I made him, and that he didn’t deserve to be dumped like that, all of which I already knew and made me feel worse because he was right. Then he told me if I were to drop him…like, if the relationship was seriously making me unhappy…I had to do it in the gentlest way possible and be super careful not to hurt him. He also told me that I should tell X everything I told Y, because clear communication and mutual trust are the foundation upon which successful relationships are built upon. Funny enough, X said the same thing. I. Am. Freaking. Out. Please help me.)

I don’t want to do something I’ll regret. Any guidance you can offer would be very much appreciated.

hey, just another note on a past submission

You know how the asexual bicurious “heartbreaker” high school girl who sent you that submission about her current boyfriend X and the guy she’s liked forever Y? Yeah, just another note on it.

I JUST WANTED TO ADD THAT IT’S NOT URGENT, BUT IT IS VERY TIME SENSITIVE BECAUSE I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND CAN’T PREDICT MY OWN ACTIONS AT THIS POINT. 

Please tag your response with “stellaster” (don’t ask, it’s a unique personal thing that doesn’t have a tumblr tag)

                       =====================================

 Hey love, 

So first off, no. There is not a way that you can end things and everything can be happy, immediately. That’s the key word. We all find our ways to happiness sooner or later. We are all heartbroken and sad after a break and that’s completely normal so expecting for X to be happy even after breaking up is unrealistic. He’ll be unhappy and you can only hope that he’ll find his way and he’ll become happy again. But staying with him while you don’t love him or care for him in the way that he thinks you do, that would also make him unhappy as well. It’ll lead him to think that he’s making you unhappy and no one wants to do that to the ones they love. You also said that if you leave him and break his heart he’ll never be the same again. While this may be true, you don’t know if this is a good or a bad thing. No one bounces back after having their heart broken loving so fervently. However, he can become stronger. Will he be more cautious? Maybe, but we can hope that he’ll love again. You don’t know that someone else won’t come along and prove him that he deserves the best of everything.

I think the best thing you can do right now is to be honest with X about your relationship. Let him know that you don’t feel a strong emotion for him anymore. Let him know that while you realise it’s safe to be with him in the long run, you just don’t feel the rush of emotions that you want and you may not love him the same way he loves you. It’s important that you’re honest in all of your relationships because everyone deserves that. Everyone deserves an honest partner. I don’t know what else you want to do in regards to Y since he said he didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship and you don’t seem to feel that it’ll be more than a hot moment of adrenaline either. But it may be better for all three for you to take some time and discover yourselves. You’re still in high school. You’re all young and there’s still sooooo many years ahead of you. So explore. If you realise that you still love X or Y later, maybe you can reconnect. While you’re discovering yourself, you can remain friends.

As for love, no one really defines love in the same way as others. So I would advise that you start thinking about what it means for you personally. When you think about love, when you think about soulmates, what do you expect from it? Don’t base it on what others think. What do you think it should mean? For me, a soulmate means a home. It means someone who accepts you for all that you are. Someone who is willing to die for you but also is willing to live as passionately for you. Someone who makes you feel safe, not just physically but emotionally as well. But a soulmate is also someone who challenges you to become better. To be a better person, to make you want to take on tasks that fear you and overcome them. That’s what it means to me. So while my soulmate may not be a romantic partner, it can be a platonic partner as well. So figure out what it means to you. And you know what? You may not figure it out for a while. You may not know for a while, and that’s fine too.

I don’t think you’re strange for having an aversion to physical touch. Touch aversion is not uncommon for asexuals. I would adivse that you look up more on asexuality and touch aversion. It’s not an uncommon phenomenon. It’ll help you find soe peace with what you’re feeling rather than feeling out of sorts and weird. Explore your seuxailty and your romantic preferences. A lot of people have different preferences and the world is no longer black and white anymore. There’s a million shades of grey in between and we just have to learn to navigate ourselves based on our feelings. So you may find out later that you’re not as romantic as you had thought. You may be aromantic or demiromantic. You may only want a QPP instead of a lover in your life. Whatever it is, exploration of self is the best adventure to go on.

I hope this helps a little. I tried to tackle everything as best as I could. I hope everything works out.

Always by your side,

Kelly

[ar3volut1on]

If tomorrow was the day of the rapture, would you be left behind?  I fear many would; many claim to be Christians on Sunday but live like the world the rest of the week, many deny Christ and reject God outright, many are just so wrapped up in themselves to even care.  But one day they will, one day the true church will be gone, millions will have disappeared and the world will be in chaos.  My heart aches when thinking of it, I know there are some I love and care for who live for themselves who probably will still be here come the following day, some who will be left behind.  It doesn’t have to be that way though.  It’s so easy to ensure that your among the raptured saints, that you are saved, spared from the wrath to come that will then begin to be poured out upon the earth and all who are left on it.

God’s escape plan from hell, is also His escape plan from wrath – Jesus!  It’s that simple and for us prideful, stubborn humans that hard.  Jesus is always the answer yet we so often fail to realize it.  Right now I want to tell you about Him, about my King, my Lord, my Savior.  But in order to do that you have to face some harsh, ugly truths about yourselves, it won’t be fun but like a life-saving surgery it is necessary.  Ready or not, here we go.

You are a sinner, we all are actually, every single child born of man since Adam ate the fruit in the garden all those years ago is a sin filled being.  Just look around you at the state of the world to see the evidence of this.  We hate on a scale that is mind boggling and what we hate we try to destroy.  Whether it is the unborn babies slaughtered each day by the millions, ripped limb by limb from the womb which should be the safest place for them save in the arms of God; or the precious child past a certain age is delivered all but the head into this world when a pair of sharp scissors pierce it’s tender flesh at the base of the neck and severe it’s spinal cord before the head is pulled free from it’s mother’s body.  It’s own mother who is supposed to love, cherish, and protect her child just brutally murdered it instead.  Or what about when we decide that we as certain type of person decide we are better than another, that we have more right to life and it’s sustaining resources than another person, one in someway different from us, maybe they have more or less melanin in their skin than us, maybe we are more intelligent in our own eyes than they are, maybe we think we are superior in some way to all these other people, so we decide they are worth less than those like us.  We decide that they have less rights to the resources of this world, to the things we want and need to live, suddenly in our eyes their worthless, a drain on precious resources and as selfish men we make the decision that they’ve got to go.  So we kill them, those we deem parasites, leaches on society.  Never happen you say, I beg to differ.  Ask the millions of ethnic groups enslaved or slaughtered throughout history.  Ask a Jew about the atrocities of the Holocaust and Hitler, a Russian about Lenin or worse yet Stalin, ask a Native American, ask a christian in a muslim country, ask one of the millions of aborted babies around the world each day.  We humans have gotten very good at killing one another for made up reasons as if one life is more important, more valuable than another.

Nothing could be farther than the truth though, we’ve been buying the devils lie that we are better than others for far too long now.  Satan hates us, he has spent the last 6 millennia trying to destroy us by trying to make us destroy one another.  But that’s never been God’s plan.  See God loves each of us as dearly; so dearly that in spite of our wicked, depraved nature he did something absolutely amazing for us, to save us from our wicked ways.  God sent us His only Son, Jesus the Christ to die for us.

See God is a holy, perfect God.  Everything He created was perfect in fact but when Adam and Eve listened to the deceiver Satan’s lies and ate of the fruit God warned them off sin entered the world, the whole creation God’s perfect work became fallen, cursed.  Now it groans under that curse,growing increasingly weak, sick, depraved with each passing year.  When this fall happened Adam and Eve found out the hard way the consequences of sin – death.  Sin separates us from God, separates us from life eventually.  So God had to provide a solution for this, so we as men could be restored and reconciled to Him, our Creator, our Maker. That solution was to send His Son to become man, and to take our place in the punishment and payment for our rebellion, for our sin.

Jesus was God’s Son, but He was also God – hard to grasp I know; I kinda get it better when I think of how I am a daughter, wife and mother all three of which are very distinct parts of me, almost like separate beings but they are all still me.  It’s the same with God only more so, where my different roles are all stuck in one body He isn’t bound by our mortal physical bounds and He can be Father, Son and Spirit in one mind but three beings.  And that little gem of truth is the glorious part of God that enabled Him to come to earth as fully man; albeit not born of man and his corrupted seed but by a woman, a virgin, thereby not being bound under the curse of sin.  As a man he was born and lived just as we do with one big exception, He never sinned.  Instead Jesus was a perfect example for how we should strive to live.  And when they time came He willingly paid the price for our sin by dying for us.  When Jesus was crucified on the cross His precious blood was poured out as the covering for sin.  When we believe this, believe in Jesus as God’s only Son who died for us.  That His shed blood, pure and true, washes away all our filthy sins, then we are saved.

Saved from the consequences of our sin, saved from death.  It’s as if we were a criminal (after all God made all true laws, they’re called the 10 Commandments, and we have all broken them) standing before a judge (a perfect, holy, righteous judge God) about to have sentence passed for our crimes.  DEATH, that’s the just sentence handed down, the consequences for our rebellion against God.  We must die and be forever separated from the one who created us, who loves us.  But as we are about to be taken away to pay our debt, to have our just punishment carried out a man speaks from the back, “I’ve paid this debt, Father.  See my blood, it covers their sins.” And that easily we are forgiven, our sin erased, forgotten by God, we free to live.  Live fully for the first time knowing that our sins are forgiven, that we are right with God our Father, we are secure in the Son and filled with the Spirit to lead and guide us until the day we are called home to heaven.  In that day our broken, mortal, sin scarred bodies will be shed and our souls freed to await the resurrection when we receive the bodies that God created us to have before the fall, before the curse and it’s effects.

That’s the final part of God’s redemptive plan, the resurrection.  One day our bodies will die but not forever.  Just as Jesus rose, resurrected, glorified, alive on the third day after he was crucified we too will one day rise alive and glorified.  That is hope people and that is love, that while we were yet wicked, sin-filled, lying, cheating, rebels Jesus saw past that and paid our debt saying “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

Now that you know how to be saved let me go back to my opening statement about the rapture and being left behind.  See one day God is going to judge man for his rebellion, for rejecting Him and his precious Son sent to save man from death.  When that judgement begins to be poured out upon the earth it’s going to be bad, real bad, so bad in fact that if God didn’t shorten those days no life would be left on earth.  This period of judgement is known as Jacob’s Trouble or Daniel’s 70th week and encompasses a total of 7 years, divided at the halfway point by an act known as the Abomination of Desolation committed by the world leader often referred to as the Antichrist, this kicks things into overdrive and marks the beginning of the Great Tribulation when judgement is passed and wrath as punishment poured out.  This time period of 3 1/2 years is like every natural and man made catastrophe and war ever on steroids condensed into a few years.  It’s bad and the loss of life during it is staggering.  But there is good, no great news if you are a believer and follower of Christ BEFORE this period starts; you don’t have to go through it.  Nope, you are spared from wrath, not appointed to it.  Instead the body of true believers, Christ followers washed in the blood, the church will be called up to be with Christ in heaven where He ascended to be with His Father 40 days after His resurrection.  We will be in heaven with our Father, and with our Savior! Our story is glorious just as the story of those left on earth is tragic, I have talked about it in numerous posts but tonight let’s just let my previous statement say it all.  And let me pray that my plea here tonight has touched your heart for Jesus, that you realize your sin, your guilt, and your punishment, repent of those sins and turn from them.  Then cry out to the Savior and ask Him to save you, wash you clean in the power of His shed blood.  Then go and live for Him, follow Him, share the good news that fills you as you look up for our redemption from this world draweth nigh.

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As always my beloved brothers and sisters in Christ may the Father bless, keep and strengthen you as you continue to:

Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses. 1 Timothy 6:12

knowing that you can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth you. Philippians 4:13

No One Left Behind If tomorrow was the day of the rapture, would you be left behind?  I fear many would; many claim to be Christians on Sunday but live like the world the rest of the week, many deny Christ and reject God outright, many are just so wrapped up in themselves to even care.