#but i also feel like i’m reaching a breaking point and if i don’t seek help now i’ll end up ruining so many of my relationships

[archiveofyearning]

.

[biblomaniac]

Supercorp headcanon:

Kara and Lena are both clingy, but in very different ways. Kara is obviously one who seeks and gives physical touch at any available moment. At first, this disturbed Lena. For most of her life, touch meant fear, anger, and revulsion.

Over time and with lots of set backs, Lena becomes adjusted to Kara’s touch and starts to crave it. For someone as touch starved as she is, Lena is still incredibly controlled as she seeks Kara’s comfort. While Lena will rarely initiate even the shortest of hugs, as soon as Kara hugs her, or holds her hand, Lena grasps on and holds tightly until Kara breaks the contact.

This is all well and good until other people start to notice. Once the Superfriends start commenting on their perpetual close proximity, Lena becomes self conscious and refuses to touch Kara. Of course, Kara thought she had upset Lena in some way and almost begs Lena to tell her how she can make up her “transgression.” Lena eventually admits that she was embarrassed of being called out and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Kara repeatedly assures Lena no boundary was crossed, and even vehemently encourages the brunette to seek Kara’s physical intimacy.

Here begins the complete and utter downfall of their “friendship” as they know it. Now both women are constantly touching, cuddling, and hugging. They touch so often that it becomes a rarity for them to be apart in any way if they are in the same room. Whether it be a hand at Lena’s back or Kara’s arm, the women are completely inseparable.

It isn’t until Kara starts pulling Lena into her lap at game nights or the bar that Lena begins to question how common it is for best friends to be as connected as they are. By all accounts, it’s not common, but at this point, Lena may go through withdrawals if she dials it back. So she says nothing and enjoys Kara’s intimacy while it lasts.

Once Kara starts kissing Lena’s cheek, forehead, and hand at any possible moment, Lena starts to think something is off about their friendship. The night Kara kisses her on the lips as the watch The Proposal, Lena builds up enough courage to confront Kara.

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are we doing with the hugs, the touching, and now the kissing? Fuck, two days ago we woke up spooning and you haven’t said a word! When are we going to address this—this—”

“Lena.”

“I don’t understand, how can it be normal for friends to—”

“Lena! We aren’t friends. And we haven’t been for a long time...”

Like a record scratching, Lena freezes and just stares. When she comes back to herself, Kara is still talking but it feels like she’s messed a thing or two.

“…we’ve been dating for months, Lena. I thought you would be comfortable with this by now. We can take a step back if you want, but…”

“Dating? What do you mean dating?”

“Lena, what did you think we were doing this whole time? The constant contact, the lunch dates, and sleepovers. You really didn’t think anything of what we’ve been doing?”

Lena realizes that, just maybe, she wasn’t the best judge of what is and isn’t normal in a friendship. She also comes to the conclusion that she doesn’t want any of it to end.

“I..I thought this was normal? I didnt realize you were under the impression that we were dating. It seems that I have been a bit obtuse as to the status of our relationship.”

Kara is almost horrified at their months long miscommunication. The blonde sees no smooth way out of the situation and so begins what could have turned out to be the ramble of the century.

“So what, do we just stop? I’m sorry, I just thought we were taking it slow. Forgive me, if I had known—if I knew…I’m, I’m so sorry Lena, I’ll just go, and we can forget this ever happened—”

“NO!”

“No? Okay, I’ll give you some space—”

“No, Kara. I don’t want space. I don’t want anything to change. I want the dates, and the cuddling, and the kissing, and nights out with our friends. I want everything with you, Kara,” says Lena, as she reaches to grasp Kara face between her hands.

Kara leans into the touch, slowly gravitating closer to where Lena sits on her couch. Even as Kara grows closer, she hesitates to close the final distance between their lips. She couldn’t bear for Lena to dangle this opportunity between them.

“You do, are you sure?”

Lena decides that her next actions will speak louder than any platitudes she could give to Kara. With a push at Kara’s chest guiding her to lean back, Lena crawls into Kara’s lap, grasps Kara by the back of her neck, and leans down to place the slowest, sweetest kiss to Kara’s lips.

Not one to be outdone, Kara trails her hands along the sides of Lena’s thighs and up her back. Her left hand continues up to tangle into Lena’s hair while the right slides down to grasp Lena firmly by the ass.

With a small gasp, Lena deepens the kiss. With a gentle prod of her tongue to Kara’s lips, Lena licks into Kara’s mouth with a skillful tongue. With a groan, Kara separates their kiss.

“So, does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

The brunette throws her head back in a joyful laugh.

“Yes, darling. I’ll be yours if you promise to be mine.”

Kara’s face lights up in happiness.

**********************

Months have gone by and Kara and Lena are happier than ever. Somehow they have grown closer, and although they have to deal with constant teasing remarks from all their friends, they wouldn’t separate for anything.

[misc-obeyme]

requesting "don't test me" with lucifer (and then she does)

ty i luv u

Hello, anon!

Okay, so the prompt was "Don't tempt me," but I still had him tell MC not to test him, so we got a bit of both lol. Also I know you didn't necessarily indicate an AFAB reader, but that's what I ended up doing. Hopefully that's okay!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Lucifer with prompt "Don't tempt me."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: cockwarming, penetration (reader receiving)

Once again, Lucifer found himself sitting at his desk doing paperwork late into the night. Everyone else in the house was either asleep or quiet in their rooms. For once, he could focus on the pile of work he still had to get through.

And he did focus, even though you were sitting on his lap with his cock snugly inside you.

Lucifer would never admit it, but he had a tendency to indulge you. When you came into his office earlier that night to sit with him, he didn’t protest. Your presence made him feel content and he enjoyed having you near him. But it was clear rather quickly that you did not intend to simply sit idly while he worked. And when you finally asked, Lucifer gave in after only a little bit of prodding.

That was how he ended up with his lap full of you, his arms on either side of you as he continued to work, your head leaning back on his shoulder. Your hands were on the desk, holding papers still for him as he wrote. He occasionally moved your hands where he needed them.

You had been doing so well, actually managing to stay still while he worked. But he noticed when you began to shift your hips every so often, like you were unable to hold yourself back from seeking some kind of friction. Lucifer didn’t acknowledge your movements, his pen never stopping.

Lucifer couldn’t deny that he enjoyed having you like this. The way your body clenched on his cock, sending little jolts of pleasure through him, made the hours of sitting at his desk a little more bearable. He never indicated this to you, his expression and movements remaining stoic as though he was unbothered by the way you were leaking all over him.

This went on for some time and Lucifer was actually impressed that you were able to cockwarm him for so long, only occasionally moving against him.

He still had quite the pile of work when it became evident that you were struggling with staying still. Your movements became more frequent and more obvious. You even let out a little whine that both concerned him and made his cock twitch.

When this happened, he said, “Be still, MC. As you can see I still have a lot of work to get through.”

“I’ve been still this whole time,” you said. “Can’t you take a break?”

Lucifer wanted to give into you immediately, but the paperwork on his desk taunted him. “No,” he said firmly. “I told you that you would have to wait until I’m finished and I am nowhere near done.”

You turned your head toward him, nuzzling into him and kissing his neck. You took one of your hands off his desk to reach up and run your fingers down his cheek. “Please, Lucifer…”

Lucifer grabbed your hand and put it back on his desk. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. His tone was strict, not flirty, and you sighed against him.

Lucifer managed to get through only a small amount of work before you started up again, shifting on his lap. He attempted to ignore it, not wanting to give in to you.

At this point, though, you had had enough and you very deliberately braced your hands on the desk so you could raise yourself up. Once you reached the tip of his cock, you sat back down in one swift motion. The feeling of finally having some movement inside you made you moan.

Lucifer dropped his pen and grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed to him. “Do not test my patience, MC.”

You still squirmed in his grip. “What about my patience?” you asked, letting just a hint of a whine into your voice. “I’m running out.”

“You should have considered that before you proposed this idea,” Lucifer said.

You groaned, now actively struggling against him. “Can’t you ever give in? Just once?”

Lucifer’s irritation with you peaked and he realized there was no way he would be able to finish his work when you were like this. He secretly blamed himself for giving into you to begin with, but there was no way he would let you think that.

Lucifer lifted you easily as he stood up from his chair, pushing you down over his desk. There was still paperwork beneath you, but he didn’t bother to move it out of the way. In that moment, he no longer cared.

Lucifer leaned over you, pressing close to your ear. “I hope this is what you wanted, MC.”

Lucifer didn’t give you the chance to answer as he stood back up, keeping one hand on your hip.

He put his other hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place as he began to thrust. He was not gentle, he was far past that, and the sounds of your whimpers only made him go faster.

You squirmed under him, no doubt overwhelmed by how deep he was inside you, hitting hard with every thrust, your body bouncing as he ramped up the pace and intensity. He was lost in your heat, feeling only the sweetness of you around him, his own pleasure building as he moved in you. The sound and scent of your arousal made him a little dizzy.

Your noises became louder as your orgasm approached, your hands gripping the desk, moving the papers that were still beneath you.

You cried out as your climax hit, your cum coating his dick as he clenched your hip hard, the hand on your back pressing down roughly.

And then Lucifer stopped moving.

You stayed sprawled over the desk, your cheek pressed against some stray paper, breathing hard as you slowly came down from your high.

After a moment you looked back over your shoulder. Lucifer frowned at you, his cock still hard inside you.

“Will you be able to sit still now?” he asked.

Lucifer lifted you from his desk, sitting back down in his chair and settling you in his lap the way he had you before. He picked up one of your hands, his fingers gently rubbing against a smudge of ink there before he placed it on top of his papers again.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist and gently kissed your neck.

“I only need you to hold on a little longer,” he said quietly into your ear. “Having you here like this makes it easier for me to get through all of this work. If you can hold me until I’m finished, I will be at your mercy for the rest of the night.”

Lucifer knew what saying this to you would do and he was pleased to feel you shudder slightly. You were likely imagining him carrying you to his room, catering to your every whim, giving into you entirely, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. It wasn’t something he did often. But every once in a while, he let himself be vulnerable with you.

You re-positioned yourself for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. You put your hands on the desk, settling them back on the papers for him. “How can I say no to that?”

Lucifer chuckled, repositioning your hands a little before picking up his pen. “I will endeavor to get through the remainder quickly so I can take care of you properly.”

You settled in, your body still tired and throbbing from the orgasm you had bent over his desk. You took the time to rest as well as you could with his cock still inside you, knowing you would need your energy for later.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[nyxcreate]

OCD caused by Non Dualism (“seeking”) tips+

So I’ll be honest, I don’t really make posts about Non dualism because I don’t feel like I’ve understood it the way other people did. They’ve seemed to find this permanent bliss, that I stayed seeking for, FOR MONTHS, (more than 7 months) and really just losing my mind. That non dual state of mind felt so good and I wanted it so bad! I’ve seen many tumblr asks with seekers and I’m sure there are many people who’ve just really understood it and resonated with it. I wanted to share my two cents on it, because I’m sure there other folks who could really use the advice instead of hearing “just NOTICE!!!”.

So please note, once again I won’t say anything bad about traditional non duality/Advaita Vedanta. I’m merely speaking from my own experience, my own struggles and how I’ve really sort of overcome it. And if you’ve found the NOTHINGNESS and CONSCIOUSNESS, all props to you! Keep scrolling this isn’t for you!

—————————————————————

One thing I’ve come to realize later on is how much the mind watching was actually damaging, and not natural at all! It felt like i was looking into something- all the time, feeling the contractions in my body, trying to get rid of it. Naming everything. Trying not to name everything, or label. Trying to notice more. Trying to notice there wasn’t any labels! Trying to notice who was the one doing the noticing. Trying to notice that there was no one noticing. Hell even trying not to TRY. Reading posts, watching videos, hoping something would click. I know how this sounds, but sometimes I’d get excited when I was reaching my breaking point of noticing; because that’s when the bliss would return. So much that you can’t take it anymore; and all that’s left is that pretty empty state of mind that just feels soooo good!

Your world is at your feet, everyone is treating you with kindness. You’re treating everyone with so much love. Life can’t get any better. Until you’re hit with the sudden realization “how do i maintain this, what if I start seeking again?” and there you are; your “me” has returned. But every time it gets easier, doesn’t it? And every time; even if it gets easier, you’re wishing you never found Non Duality in the first place. Now how do I get rid of the “me” again . . .

I’m very done with non dualism. Funny thing is, I don’t even disagree with the non dual “experience”; because it’s just so true. The core of emptiness is there! But honestly, I’m so done with the teachings.

I never thought I would be able to say that I was done with this philosophy. I really thought it would be there in the back of my mind FOREVER. Doing backflips and whatnot to feel the emptiness, the bliss. But enough about that …

I’ve stopped with traditional non duality where it says “keep noticing!” “who’s the one noticing?” “the noticer and the noticed it one!” and realized; as Tony Parsons and Jim Newman and even Non duality fun on youtube had taught me, there is no one doing the noticing. The “radical” non dualism that traditional non dualists seem to hate has been a lifesaver. The pretty state of mind that you are searching for, the search may be there but there is no one doing the searching. If there is no one doing the searching, then what’s happening? It is OBVIOUSLY happening. I am DEFINITELY searching.

No, there is no one doing the searching. It just is. No reason for it at all.

Anyways, while I encourage everyone to look into radical non dualism; or Tony Parson and Jim Newman’s ways of teachings, I’ve also moved on from their lessons. I’ve learned to tackle the OCD by not listening to the compulsions, by no longer looking into the mind. And yes take it step by step, because I know how difficult it seems to just not listen to the compulsions. that would be my advice for sure. Start looking into radical non dualism and recognize that the seeker is just not there. There is no “higher” state of consciousness. The divide that you see between the “me” and the “consciousness; bliss” state; there is no divide at all. It’s all just happening. Once that’s been established; go ahead and live your life. If needed, later look into how you can treat your OCD.

…and again, non dualism has provided amazing insights that I’m forever grateful for. :) The challenges are nothing in comparison to the knowledge gained.

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: When they break up with or are broken up with by their S/O

******Note: This post definitely makes the boys come off super toxic, so if that's not your thing you've been warned******

Marko 

I could see him being the one to break Hearts

His artsy fartsy ways of doing things aren’t for everyone 

And he’s a bit of hot head, so I could see him starting fights with his S/O over nothing 

I think his S/O would feel like they were walking around on eggshells whenever they were around Marko and it would become to much eventually 

He can be so thoughtful and genuine with his S/O, but then in another moment be so cruel 

He gets bored easily, and will just stop hanging out with you mid relationship because he just not “inspired anymore”

I think he is the type of person to not care about who does the breaking up either 

If you want to break up with him? Fine. He doesn’t care, and to prove that point he will throw any belongings of yours that you left in cave, right into the ocean

If he sees you on the boardwalk, and you try to talk to him? He will pretend like he never met you before and introduce himself. 

Yep, he's that type of asshole 

He’s not afraid to break things off himself either

Except when he does it full of theatrical flare, and usually ends in blood 

Paul

I Think most of his break ups were do to him being a little bit of a player

It’s not his fault that when he sees a beautiful woman walking down the boardwalk he checks them out!

Or that when you two were at a party he lets some other randoms grind on him

The worst part is that he won’t take responsibility for it either 

He will just blame it on his “vampire instincts” 

He still acts like a teenager too, which is S/O finds infuriating 

He won’t wash unless reminded too, so he’s a little smelly and he tries to hide it with cheap cologne 

He never has any money and has to constantly asks for an allowance from David or money from his S/O

I think Paul has a new girlfriend every few days too

It’s to the point where whenever he introduces a new girlfriend to the boys they don’t even bother learning their name. 

And sometimes Paul won’t even bother introducing them in the first place because he know they don’t tend to last 

Of course he doesn’t believe he has anything to do with it. He just blames it on how “Santa Carla women are”

So all these thing together could force his S/O to break up with him 

I think it would happen on the boardwalk too

The two of you meet, and as your telling him your breaking up with him he checks out someone mid convo 

I think his S/O would just give up halfway through their “I’m breaking up with you” speech and just walk away 

Unfortunately, I don’t think Paul would really care 

I don’t think his relationships ever truly reach the serious stage

He prefers his relationships unclear and full of spontaneity 

He’s also very lazy, so he’s fine when someone breaks up with him so he doesn’t have to put the effort into doing it himself 

Dwayne 

he is a very private person, and rarely seeks out human companionship unless it is to secure his next meal 

But every once in a while he meets a human he moderately like more than most humans and decides to pursue them

When this happens he never introduces them to the boys and never brings them back to the cave 

In his mind their secret is far too valuable to risk it’s exposure 

Because of this his S/O can get frustrated that Dwayne doesn’t share at lot of his personal life with them 

So The relationship can feel very one sided 

Dwayne is also really bad with verbal communication and tends to lean on non verbal cues to get his point across 

I think Dwayne also has a “thing” about people breaking up with him so if he suspects that the relationship has run its course he will just end things first 

He also has this other “thing” where he can’t stand seeing someone he used to be in a relationship with be with another person….so usually when he breaks up with someone it also ends in a meal 

David 

Like we all know, David likes to be in control.

He’s the leader that calls the shots no questions asked

This would definitely be same when he is in a relationship

He chooses where they go, who they hang out with, and what they do in general

I think his S/O would be okay with this at first. They knew what they signed up for when they started dating him

And they would definitely believe that the positives in their relationship would outway the negatives.

Sure David won't let them go for a walk by themselves, but at least they're safe right?

And they can’t choose what they wear either, but that's just because David knows best.

But like most things the reality of who David is would probably be wayyyyy too much for most people. 

I think once David’s S/O removed their rose colored glasses and realized they wanted out

 It would be a  huge challenge to convince David of this fact

David’s S/O:  David, we need to talk.

*David fixing something on his chair* What did you say Sweetheart?

David’s S/O:  David I’m not happy I don't want to be with you anymore.

*David pretending to look around the cave for something* I don’t think I heard you right, love. What did you want again?

David’s S/O: David….

David: It’s okay love, you don’t need to talk. Why don’t you keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut and let's go for a ride with the boys. 

I think once his S/O managed to get him to acknowledge the fact that they wanted out of the relationship, one of two things would happen.

David would drain you himself, or give you to the boys to drain

or

David’s complex would not allow the thought he was being broken up with so, I could see him using his mind control powers to change your mind into staying with him

This wouldn't last long though. I can only imagine a person being mind controlled to be in love with you would get kind of old after a while. And David is kind of a jerk

So, I could see David mind wiping his S/O and leaving them somewhere to fend for themselves

[tkaulitzlvr]

THE WRONG WAY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom hasn’t been paying you enough attention lately, and, when you finally snap, he can’t understand where you are coming from, until you reach your breaking point. can the issues between you and him be resolved?

content: angst

a/n: pulled this out of my ass lol, i had to rush it because i’m in the middle of another req but it’s nowhere near done after like three hours of writing so i’ll have to finish and post it tomorrow. sorry if there are mistakes, i only proofread veryyy briefly cause i’m so tired rn😭 hope this is okay tho!!

"you don't love me."

i voice the harsh words to the silent room, clearly and with every sense of belief behind my statement. to my discomfort, saying it out loud does not make me feel any more at ease, in fact seeing the way tom’s entire body breaks for a second, processing what i had just said, before trying to cover the hurt on his face up, only suffocates me even more. the lump in my throat only gets bigger, the tension in the air thickening by the second.

"wow." he begins, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around how i could even come to that conclusion. "that’s an awful accusation." he glances at me, his eyes already glossy, giving me enough of an idea on how much i have hurt him by uttering those four words. however i stick to it, figuring that it is too late to back out now. within me, behind all the anger, all the upset, i feel that it is true. i sense that he no longer feels the same way he did when he met me, all those years ago, the love within his eyes slowly diminishing until it is now long gone.

"and also." he speaks, leaning forward and looking directly into my eyes, staying in his position spread on the end of the other couch. "it's not true. you know it isn't."

the pressure of his gaze leaves me unable to hold eye contact with him, looking away sheepishly into my lap, hoping that somehow the ground could swallow me up. i grit my teeth, locking my jaw in anger, feeling no reassurance from his quick denial of my statement. so i decide to challenge him, standing my ground despite the nausea only growing within me. though his voice seems somewhat certain, i refuse to believe that i am making it up, that it is all in my head. "do i though tom?"

my eyes meet his, except the ones looking into me are foreign. they are angry, a glint of hostility present within them that i had not yet witnessed, this change taking me aback, yet i refuse to look away. he is sad. those eyes, past the resentment in them, i see pain. i see sorrow. i have upset him, far beyond what he intends to let out. he is usually strong, and perhaps right now he thinks that he is keeping this up, yet i can read him like a book, the way his left brow furrows, creating a crease along his forehead, the way his eyes cannot focus on one thing, darting around the room, i can see that he is struggling. and whilst part of me hurts with him, hating to put him through any sort of distress, i need it right now. because i am tired of feeling unloved and unappreciated - regardless of whether tom intends to make me feel this way or not.

he shakes his head, scoffing slightly in disbelief, letting out a shaky sigh, before speaking up, his voice loud, in contrast to the silent room. "what, so i've been lying every single time i’ve told you that i love you, over the past six years that we've been together? mind you, i say that every day, without fail."

i stay silent, my eyes becoming glossy as they quickly tear away from his. he takes my silence as a cue to continue, my sudden belief that he does not love me angering him as he desperately seeks to remind me of every reason why i am in the wrong. "don't i do everything for you? make sure that you're always safe, give you my everything-"

"give me your money, you mean." i reply, cutting him off. i don’t want to seem ungrateful - i appreciate the way tom would spend any amount of money on me if it made me happy. i am thankful for the house he has given me, the vacations he takes me on, the things he buys me, but those things are not the reasons why i fell in love with him. i fell for tom kaulitz. not his money, not his fame, not his profession. i fell for who he is, for him as a person, whether he is rich or poor, yet it feels that day by day i lose a small part of that. i have always understood that his job means that he will be away a lot, but it is hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't always be there, only their fortunes can.

"i’m grateful for what you do for me, really i am, but i'd much rather have time with you than the latest gucci bag, or the newest chanel perfume. if it meant that i would have to live with nothing for the rest of my life, i would do it. don't you understand? i want you - not your money tom! i don't need you to apologise with gifts when i don’t see you all day, i just...i need you." i am desperate, craving for him to hear me out, to understand that it is him that i need, but the way he looks at me in confusion shows me that i am not going to achieve that.

"i thought you liked the things i buy for you. have you been lying?" he completely ignores the point that i have been trying to make, this only fuelling the frustration within me as i exhale shakily, quickly grasping onto the opportunity to argue my point once again.

"i do but that's not the point tom! i like them because i feel like it's all i get from you!" my voice is raising, something which i did not want to happen. shouting never solves the problem, however right now i am far too angry to care. "i just want some of your time, to feel like you actually care! when you're with me, you're here physically, but your mind is always elsewhere. i just miss you. i need to you be mine again, i-"

"look, i’m sorry okay?" he begins, harshly cutting me off and matching the volume in my voice. "i'm sorry that my job is more demanding than others, i’m sorry that it needs a lot of my attention, but i told you this from the beginning. my career is a big part of who i am and things aren't always easy. they get hard, they get tough, but-"

"that's my problem! when things get hard for you, i don't fucking know about it! because you shut me out, every. single. time. i'm your girlfriend, tom. i want to know about your life, i want to help you, but you always run away from me! you spoil me with gifts and money to compensate for every fucking time you leave me in the dark! i don't want it anymore. i just want you to communicate!" i move from the couch, walking to the middle of the room and standing a few feet away from him. his eyes are glued to me, watching my every step, and he is listening to me this time. "am i such a headache to be around, that you can't talk to me? that you can't deal with spending time with me, so instead you spend your money to try and shut me up, because you have so much that no matter what you buy, it doesn't affect you?"

"don't." he voices shakily as i stare into his eyes, his expression more wounded than ever. my words stab into him, hitting him harder than i had anticipated. his fists clench against his thighs, holding every ounce of frustration. though we have argued in the past, i have never seen him this upset, regardless of whether he intends to show it visibly or not. "you know that i don't think of you that way, even for a second. so stop."

"you can't blame me for thinking it tom." i shrug. "you leave me out of everything, i have no idea what's going on in your life anymore-"

“because i'm trying to fucking protect you!" he interrupts, raising his voice once again. his hand slams against the arm of the couch, the sudden contact causing me to wince slightly. "i'm sorry if you feel like i'm hiding things from you. but i know parts of my life would just stress you out and hurt you. don't you get that? i'm trying to save you from the pain-"

"i want the fucking pain!" i fire back. "we are supposed to be in a relationship. do you know what that means? i want to suffer with you. i would choose that, a million times over, if it meant that i could be with you for another day. i want every part of you, the sad, the happy, the angry, i want it all. can't you see that i need you? i hate being left in the dark. i absolutely fucking hate it.”

my voice pierces through his ears, diminishing the tense silence as tom gulps, clenching his jaw and leaning forwards, pinching his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. the rash and quick responses don’t allow me time to calm down, my eyes becoming glossy with tears, the salty liquid staining my cheeks before i can try to hold them back, my weakness just as evident as tom’s. the pain, the upset, the lack of affection that have been feeling all spills out, reeling outwards from within me as i let it out, no longer attempting to hold back.

he looks up, his face softening as he takes in my hurt expression. he has never seen me like this, so broken, and the fact that he is the cause of this pains him even more, his mind coming to the slow realisation that it is up to him to fix this. although he doesn’t fully understand how i could possibly believe that he does not love me, he wants to try, to try and see from my eyes. he lets out a shaky sigh, swallowing nervously before looking into my eyes.

"i would rather feel the sadness, suffer with you." i begin, my voice small as the tears quickly take away my physical strength. "i would do absolutely anything if it means that you will love me, that you will do it with me, tom."

"i don't live a normal life, and i just want to keep you away from the crazy things." he speaks slowly, trying to reason with me, refusing to turn his gaze away from mine. "some people want to hurt me, and i would never forgive myself if someone ever did anything to harm you."

i try to wipe my tears and calm my breathing, wrapping my arms around my small frame in an attempt to comfort myself, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. but my mind acknowledges tom’s change in tone. not only is he more gentle and calm, he also seems sorry, like he now recognises where he went wrong.

"what do you want me to do?" he whispers, defeated as his tired eyes meet mine. he is no longer angry. he is desperate, longing to resolve this. "i'll do anything. i- i can't lose you. you're my world, schatz, and i'm sorry if i haven't shown it, but you are everything to me."

though there are millions of things i could say, i stay silent, standing still across the room. my heart clenches painfully, hurting at the sight of him so distraught, as his mind considers the dreaded idea of what losing me would be like. his world is crumbling before him, the one thing he seeks to protect seeming to slip through his fingers. i have never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, and whilst it comforts me to know that he is slowly letting down the walls that have prevented me from truly being with him, it saddens me to see him in such a distraught state.

"all i've ever wanted is to keep you safe. to keep you happy, liebe, because if you're happy then so am i. but you deserve more than this." he points to himself angrily, letting out a shaky sigh. "more than this fucking idiot, who doesn't even know how to love. i’m so sorry if i've done it the wrong way and made you feel like i don't care. because you shouldn't for a second think that i don't love you."

everything that i have been craving to see is happening in front of me. i have longed to see him open up, to break down the barriers that separate us both physically and mentally. i don’t want him to be strong all the time, and it hurts that he feels he has to be. the tears fall from my bloodshot eyes once again - this time out of sadness for him. i hurt with him, hating to see him so upset, but i understand his pain, his anger, and i feel every emotion along with him. for the first time in forever, i feel connected with him.

after a few moments of silence, he stands up, slowly walking towards me. i refuse to meet his gaze, fearing that i will break down once again i realise how hurt he truly is, and looking into his eyes will certainly display every emotion amongst his beautiful features. his hand brushes tenderly against my cheek, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. he reaches towards my chin, using his pointer finger to angle my face upwards so it meets with his eyes. he towers over me, taking in the sorrow etched upon my face, before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, gently caressing my cheek with his lips slightly parted, shaky breaths escaping from them.

"please, look at me." he whispers, gazing longingly into my eyes. i comply, shifting my own eyes to the deep brown ones in front of me. they are full of adoration, and i feel the man that i fell in love with slowly coming back to me. "i love you, so so much, please believe me schatz. you are the most important person in my life, and i am so sorry that i've made you feel the opposite way." he chokes up, his voice shaky as i can tell he is on the verge of tears.

i listen to him, allowing every word to sink in, as it is now no longer hard to trust what he says. i feel what i have been desperate to - love. i feel truly appreciated, like i am able to confide in him like i once could. though frustrated it took the both of us to get to this state to make him speak his mind, i appreciate him opening up, his apology making up for the lost time. there is no shame in being fragile, and through his entire conversation, we have both learned this, a new found appreciation for each other gained as i feel safe again.

"don't feel like you have to keep things to yourself. i’m your girlfriend, i'm supposed to be here for you, and i'll gladly do it, but you have to talk to me." i respond, lacing my hand with his. a soft smile spreads across his face, contrasting with his bloodshot eyes whilst he slowly nods.

"i hear you. i’m so sorry baby. i love you." he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands lace together around my waist. he lets out a sob onto my shoulder, my heart breaking at the sound. he clutches onto me tighter as if i may slip away, my own eyes tearing up once again. it has been a while since i felt like this. i feel loved, and it is all that i have ever wanted from the start.

he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes through his eyelashes. after a few seconds, he leans inwards, until his lips touch mine. the kiss is gentle, carrying every promise to love and cherish me like he has failed to do, and i gladly accept it, kissing back quickly and wrapping my arms around his neck. he pulls away, planting a few pecks on my lips once again, his breath shaky as the remnants of tears stick to his cheeks. i slowly wipe them away, not breaking eye contact as i do so, gently caressing the soft skin until any trace of sadness is lost within our newfound love for each other.

a soft smile graces his lips, failing to wither as he kisses me once again, the same amount of passion as the last, making up for the lost affection as i feel more treasured than ever. this is all I have ever wanted, to feel like he cares, and now that i am feeling his affection, my mind is oozing with contentment, the feeling almost foreign it has been so long.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[weirdkpopgirl]

Promise | Jaemin Imagine #8

Title: Promise

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and breakdowns

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: I'm aware that anxiety often takes center stage in my stories, and yet, here's another one I've penned, this time focusing on Jaemin. Drawing from my own struggles, I aimed to portray the challenges of being close to someone dealing with mental health issues. Even with a strong support system, it doesn't guarantee that your problems will vanish miraculously. To all those who grapple with similar issues, I hope this story encourages you to seek help if possible because you deserve happiness and good health.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

From the beginning, you and Jaemin had a fairly healthy relationship that was envied by your friends and family. Apart from the initial awkwardness (primarily on your side) during the early stages of dating, both of you treated each other with plenty of tender loving care. 

You could truthfully say that Jaemin wasn’t just your boyfriend, but also your closest confidant. Perhaps it was the fact that the two of you had been friends for a substantial period before dating. Being each other’s partners allowed a deeper understanding of one another, resulting in almost no arguments between the two of you. That being said, because he knew you so well, there was one factor that occasionally led to turbulence in your relationship.

Anxiety has been a constant companion throughout your life. It was much like a friend you recognized as toxic but still chose to spend time with. Lacking a proper support system during your childhood, coping with life as an adult became significantly more challenging. For you, anxiety has been this silent struggle you had been battling alone. However, you didn’t realize the effect it was having on your otherwise, perfect relationship.

The irony was that Jaemin was the most supportive presence in your life. However, the issue lay in your reluctance to accept his support. Whenever you were in a state of distress, you tended to distance yourself from him and withhold your true feelings. He had witnessed you break down before, and it bothered him that you pushed him away.

One evening, after returning to your apartment late, Jaemin could see in your eyes that it was more than the part-time job that was taking a toll on you. He could discern from the restrained smile on your face that you had no intention of sharing it with him. At that moment, Jaemin reached the point where he couldn't bear it any longer.

The warmth of his hand atop yours gained your attention. Gazing at you softly, he asked, “Princess, can we talk?”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” you responded with a tinge of concern in your voice. You searched your memory for anything you might have upset him, but couldn’t think of anything specific.

After taking a deep breath, Jaemin met your eyes brewing with perplexity. You had no idea what he was about to say, which made him briefly consider retracting his words. However, he knew that he couldn’t allow anything to stop him.

“It’s about your anxiety, (Y/n),” Jaemin began to explain, using his most gentle tone. “I’ve noticed how much it’s impacting your physical and mental health. And I think that seeking help from a professional can make a difference.”

Yet no matter how delicately this subject was being brought up to you, your shoulders tensed and you withdrew your hand from his grasp.

Your eyes flashed with frustration. “Jaemin, therapy isn’t necessary—I’m fine.”

“But you don’t have to pretend you’re fine all the time. It’s okay to ask for help and lean on others. I just want what’s best for you, (Y/n),” he stressed. He could sense you retreating behind your wall, and he refused to let you block him again.

That was how this conversation escalated into the most intense argument you had ever experienced with Jaemin. He made a sincere effort to stay composed, but it proved challenging when you continued to shut him out and maintained your insistence that you could handle everything on your own. 

Nonetheless, voices were raised from both parties and the words that left your mouths stung immediately after they were said. So as quickly as the argument had started, it ended with you pushing away from him and storming out of the living room with your eyes glossed over with tears.

Guilt quickly consumed him and his previous frustration dissipated. After waiting a few minutes to give you some space, Jaemin quietly moved down the hallway in search of you. His feet stopped at the bathroom door when he saw the faint light seeping beneath it.

On the other side of the door, your shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked your body, leaving you barely able to catch your breath. 

Eventually, you heard a gentle knock on the door. “(Y/n), please let me in.”

A part of you wanted to tell him to go away and leave you alone. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was done fighting. Yet, you couldn’t convince yourself that you deserve forgiveness. Not when the entire argument was your fault. Even though he had been nothing but patient and loving, it was you who didn’t have the courage to acknowledge your mental instability. You were the problem.

When you didn't respond, Jaemin decided to take matters into his own hands and cautiously pushed the door open. Inside, his heart ached when he found you seated across from the sink, your face buried in your knees, every part of your body trembling. He hadn’t intended for things to go this way.

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin joined you on the bathroom tiles, scooping you up into his arms. The comforting feeling of being held made you instinctively cling to him. Your tears soaked his shirt, but that was the least of Jaemin’s worries.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered, his chin resting against your forehead as he stroked your hair. “I didn’t mean to pressure you like that.”

You grimaced inwardly as your voice wavered. “I'm the one who should be apologizing. I... I know I just push you away when I’m having a hard time. But you already do so much for me, and I just don’t want to be a burden."

“You could never be a burden, (Y/n),” the tips of his fingers lifted your chin slightly, allowing you to meet his sincere gaze. “You’re my everything, and I can’t stand to see you hurting alone.”

His simple, yet sweet words made you feel so warm inside. It was that moment you realized Jaemin was never going to leave your side, even if it meant seeing you at your worst. Your wall of emotions remained resolute, refusing to crumble any time soon. However, the better half of you wanted to let Jaemin break down those barriers.

Before you could say anything, Jaemin could feel the resistance in you slowly fade away. Your hand slipped into his, intertwining your fingers as you released a light exhale. “The idea of seeking help is terrifying. But if you’re with me, I think I can do it.”

“It makes me so happy to hear you say that,” Jaemin smiled and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “And I promise, we’ll face your anxiety together.”

Your cheeks warmed when he pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. Then, he leaned in for a tender kiss on your lips, his fingers gently weaving through your hair. Your grip on his sweatshirt tightened as the kiss deepened, conveying all the love and understanding that words could never fully express. Jaemin's other arm remained securely wrapped around your waist as if it could shield you from all your worries.

When you finally pulled away, tears in your eyes had transformed into tears of happiness. "I love you, Jaemin."

"I love you too, Princess," he replied in a sing-song voice.

In that heartfelt moment, as he held you close, you both understood that your love had the strength to endure any storm, even the ones that threatened to tear the two of you apart. Despite the relentless assaults of your own mind, the love you shared with Jaemin served as a reassuring reminder that you could overcome it all, together.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[joyfulapostate]

Thank you for your blog! It’s exactly what I need right now.

I’m currently trying to construct my beliefs after a lifetime raised in the PCA (Presbyterian Church of America). It’s such a mindfuck because I can see how hateful a lot of PCA beliefs are and how when their theology is applied consistently it inevitably leads to abuse. It seems like the only ppl not fostering abuse in the system have twisted the words of the Bible to mean the opposite (ex: “this verse sounds like it’s saying x but if you go to the Greek blah blah it’s actually saying y.” Or “yes that verse does say that but obviously they’re applying it wrong. It was never meant to be taken that far” etc)

But even seeing all of this my coping mechanisms under stress are all still based in God. He was supposed to be the one constant thing and i don’t know what to do with that gone.

I feel like my beliefs are currently so fucked up. Trying to write down everything I feel is true and it’s ludicrously contradictory:

- there is no God

- Jesus is God

- after we did nothing happens. It’s the same as the space before we were born

- God has a plan to redeem suffering. All the pain in the world can’t be for nothing. People who live their whole lives in extreme duress and then die must get a chance after death to live prosperous lives. I don’t need eternal life but I need to know others will have it.

- hell is ridiculous and not real. I don’t want ppl to suffer like that no matter what they’ve done so a perfect God can’t be more petty than me. All I truly want from ppl who abused me is for them to never speak to me again. The only “punishment” I might want for them is for them to realize the damage they did and that I only want so they don’t do it again to others. I’m not talking to them so I don’t care.

I’m sure there are more but that’s all I can think of right now. It’s so confusing and messy! Does it ever settle a bit? Will I ever have a set of consistent beliefs again?

The short answer is yes and yes. Things also felt messy for me at first, but I did eventually reach a point of stability.

Congrats on being open to investigating and improving your worldview! That's such a cool and kind thing to do for yourself that many people never manage. I'm sure there's a lot to unpack, so I want to encourage you to treat yourself well while you're challenging your beliefs. Take breaks, seek support, and be patient.

Early in my deconstruction, I craved certainty because I believed that that's what truth felt like. I thought I would investigate my beliefs until I had a new and better set of beliefs on the other side of the process. But along the way I figured out that stability and consistency don't need to come from having an unchanging set of beliefs.

What I found was that having a good set of tools for seeking, analyzing, and integrating information into my life was more stable than having a static set of beliefs.

I began to question why I thought Christianity was true: love, belonging, fear, authority, loyalty, and stability were the main ones. But my beliefs didn't account for empathy, ethics, or epistemology and many other things. Heck, I didn't even know the word epistemology when I started this journey. I didn't know how to seek knowledge without running it through a Christian filter first.

My beliefs used to be precious and protected, like trophies in a glass case, high up and out of reach. When I started deconstructing, that case came crashing down.

I felt ashamed that Christianity wasn't the only tool I needed to build a stable set of beliefs. For so many people around me, that seemed to be all they needed.

I'd been told that CHRISTIANITY = TRUTH, so I hadn't considered that there were other methods to seeking, analyzing, and integrating new knowledge into my life.

But then I started exploring logic, philosophy, psychology, history, biology, and other subjects I'd been afraid would challenge my Christian beliefs. I started reading about other religions and comparing them to Christianity. And, most importantly, I started going to trauma-informed therapy. All of those things helped me break out of old patterns, learn how to update my beliefs based on new information, and how not to be afraid of that whole process.

Focusing on the tools I used to build my beliefs instead of the beliefs themselves, I was able to put together my own toolbox that helped me establish a more stable system of belief. I still go by my belief-shelf every once in a while, dust things off, admire beliefs that stood up to testing, and reevaluate beliefs that didn't. But that got rarer and rarer and no longer feels like the end of the world. Because ultimately, I'm still working with the same toolbox.

I used think that Christianity was a universal set of tools that worked for anyone in any situation, but now I see it as one very old tool that doesn't work for everybody. And, despite what I'd been told again and again as a Christian, the Bible is not a truth-seeking tool. It's a set of stories that can tell us about what the authors thought about themselves and the world. And, don't get me wrong, I love storytelling. I think it's very important. We can learn a lot about other people, their perspectives, and their philosophies. The problem comes in when people take their specific interpretation of stories in Christianity and try to apply them universally.

But we don't have to rely on the same old tools forever. We can try out new tools and figure out what will help us build the life that we want to have. Equipped with a variety of tools instead of one dusty one, we are more prepared to live and thrive in this constantly changing world.

Looking back, I'm glad my shaky shelf of beliefs fell apart. Because it gave me the opportunity to take responsibility for my beliefs instead of just protecting them.

I want to touch on one more point that you raised before I close, and that is the unbearable weight of suffering in the world. I struggled with this a lot during my deconstruction. It's a tough thing, to come from a worldview that has simple answers and adjust to the reality that reducing suffering is much harder than "let go and let God." My advice is to seek out good news, because it won't show up in social media feeds as much as bad news does. Find the people who are helping others, solving problems, and actively building community. Also, try to find some small way to do good, lessen suffering, or prevent harm if you have the ability and resources to do so.

That's part of why I run this blog, to try to help other people let go of harmful Christian beliefs with more joy and less suffering.

Thank you for sending me this ask. Messages like these inspire me. I see the effort and empathy behind your words and it gives me more hope than I had before!

[your-queer-dad]

hey dad

I have something of a long-winded rant; don’t feel like you have to respond, I just needed to tell someone

so I’m the “therapist friend”, and people come to me to talk about their problems all the time. Within the last few hours I’ve had two separate people vent to me, and I’m happy to listen. Except right now I’m going through a kind of tough time and I’m trying hard not to relapse into sh after being clean for almost three months. Hearing about everyone else’s problems really doesn’t help. I’ve set alarms to check my notifications during the night ever since I woke up to an ominous text and then couldn’t get a response all day, and every conversation I have with my friends turns into me comforting them. These are also really my only close friends, so it’s not like I have any other healthy relationships. I keep breaking down every time I’m alone and having anxiety attacks and worrying about food/starving myself and disassociating and biting my fingernails raw and snapping at people and my sleep schedule is getting messed-up, which are all signs that signs are getting worse for me. But if I tell them that I don’t have the energy to listen, then I’m almost certain something terrible will happen. These people have absolutely nobody else they can talk to, unsupportive family, and are even less emotionally stable than I am. For a while, there’s been a cycle: they unload stress onto me, they apologize for it, I assure them that I’m happy to help and thank them for sharing with me, and I relieve the stress through unhealthy coping mechanisms that they don’t know about. But recently I’ve cleaned myself up after contacting a hotline and I don’t want to go back to how it was before. I deeply care about these people, and I want to continue to be there for them, but if my mental state worsens, I won’t be able to support them at all. It seems like I’m the most stable person in my life, and I’m far from being that. It’s hard for me to seek help (and even though I’ve experienced symptoms of severe depression and anxiety for most of my life, I’ve never gotten help for it) because I feel like I’d be taking advantage of the person I’m telling, since that’s what people do to me. Honestly, the thing with my only friends constantly venting to me is just one of many minor things pushing me over the edge. It isn’t that big of a deal, but right now it is overwhelming me. My life is actually relatively uncomplicated and I have a lot of privilege; I just don’t know how to cope with the few problems I have experienced. I just don’t know what to do, and I’m a minor so there’s not much I can do, and I don’t have anyone else to talk to, especially since I came out to my mother as queer a week ago and I’m even more distant from her. This is the first person, besides the 988 operator in April, who I’ve told about any of my issues. My apologies about how long that was—I didn’t mean to write an entire essay, but now I’m not sure what parts to delete. Thanks for listening. I hope you’re doing well and we all really appreciate you, dad

—Gray

Hey kiddo, I am so sorry. That is so much for even an adult to deal with, let alone a person your age. If they are causing you stress like that, my dear , they aren't healthy relationships. You are as worthy of care, time and compassion as anyone you help. If you don't take care of yourself then you will crash and burn and that will hurt more than you asking for some space and putting in boundaries. I beg you to take care of yourself and say no. Redirect them to me, I'll listen and help but please don't let yourself reach crisis point over helping others.

- dad x

[jmagnabo92]

Sailing to Freedom Ch 4 - The Sister Discovery

@aroyallybigbangrwrb

AO3

June discovers that Alex has left, meanwhile Alex and Henry are having fun on their yachting holiday.

***

September 7th, 2020

He’s only been on this yacht for about a day but it’s been the best day in a while.  There’s something to be said for the freedom of being himself with his boyfriend.  Spending their time chatting or fucking or anything in between.  They could do things separately in the same room or do something together. 

Right now, they’re laying on the deck.  It’s dark ‘cause it’s nearly two in the morning and well, they’ll be in the boat for at least another day or so until they reach Lisbon.  Being the insomniacs that they are, Alex and Henry figured why not spend the night looking up at the stars together. 

Henry’s got a thing for the stars, and Alex has missed the clear skies that hasn’t gotten since Texas, so it’s great to look at the stars together. 

“You looking for Orion?” Alex asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped them since they laid down on the boat to look at the stars.  “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He’s not visible at the moment,” Henry states.  “He’s only visible during the months of November to February.  Basically, the winter months.  Sometimes, it stretches a bit, depending, and he would be visible in the summer months, but only in the daytime hours, so the sun blocks it.  He’s there, you just can’t see him.”

Alex hums.  “That’s strange since I always thought he was visible year-round.”  He pauses, remembering that it was something he looked for to be closer to his dad when he’s feeling sad or seeking guidance. 

“It’s admittedly disappointing at times not to be able to see Orion when I want to, but well, we can’t control the stars.”

“Just when I thought that prince charming could have anything he ever wanted, he reveals his weakness – the stars,” Alex teases.

Henry chuckles and nudges him with his shoulder.  “Princes do have some limitations.”

“Like not owning the stars.”

“I think you mean controlling since it is actually possible to own a star.”

“No way, not possible.”

“It is!  I assure you.”  Henry nudges him.  “And you don’t even have to be a prince for it.”

Alex grins.  “Well, then, I’m just going to have to buy you a star – one that’s around all the time, so when I’m not around, you can still see me.”

“Are you planning on leaving me?” Henry asks, a tease in his voice because they both know that he isn’t.

“Oh yeah, I snuck out of the White House, left the country to join you on your yacht, only to tell you that I will buy you a star to remember me for when I leave you,” Alex says, sarcastically. 

He’s aware that this vacation of sorts can’t be forever – at least when his mom wins the election, he’ll want to attend her second inauguration and he’s hoping that the time away will let them come out before then.  Of course, his mind keeps going back and forth on all of it, and what’s going to happen, so he doesn’t say that. 

“I just mean, you wouldn’t like to have a star up there to look for like you do with Orion?  In case I’m sleeping or something?”

“Only if we chose a star that I’m going to be able to see all the time.”  Henry smiles.  “I would also like to give you a star, then.”

“I’d love one, baby.”

They share a kiss and it’s nice to have the freedom of the peace out here. 

“Now, tell me – what constellations are up there right now?”

“Well, there’s Cygnus over there,” Henry says, pointing at a series of stars. 

Alex can’t say that it looks like much to him, so he asks, “What’s it meant to be?”

“The Swan.”

“A swan?  Really?” Alex asks, disbelievingly.  “It doesn’t like a swan to me – where do you get that?”

Henry laughs.  “I didn’t have a say, I’m just telling you what it is according to the Greek astronomer Ptolemy.  Did you know that Cygnus is the pet to the Queen Cassiopeia who had the twins Castor and Pollux, who are in the Gemini constellation?”

“I did not know that.”  Alex notes that Henry’s clearly happy talking about the stars, so despite the fact that he’s half-sure that Henry’s making this up, he smiles and says, “Tell me more.”

“Of course.”

***

September 8th, 2020

As always when June gets back to the White House, she goes to Alex’s room first, especially these days and especially because he hasn’t answered any of her texts.  Despite the fact that he can get in the zone, he hasn’t been like that since their mother has locked him up and forbidden him from doing any work related to the campaign or election, which means he has nothing to do for a while and that’s dangerous for her little brother. 

So, when she turns down the hall to their bedrooms, she’s thrown when she sees that it’s not Cash standing outside his door, but another agent.  She knows Cash has been pretty specific about wanting to be the one guarding him, and when she reaches for his door rather than hers the agent says, “Mr. Claremont-Diaz has requested to be left alone.”

“He’s my brother, I’m sure that applies to everyone else, but –” she says as she moves to open the door anyway only for the agent to stop her.  “– but not to me.”

The agent repeats, “He asked to be left alone – no exceptions.”

“Seriously, all you’re doing is making me worried,” she states, changing from reaching for the handle to knocking on the door.  “Alex, let me in!”

She sees a look pass between the agents at the doors and then to Amy when there’s no response. 

“Let her in, she’s going to know anyway,” Amy states. 

There’s no emotion in her tone and June’s suddenly feels like she’s been doused in ice water.  Something is wrong.  Something happened to Alex.  Was he hurt?  Had he hurt himself?

She bursts into the room only to see nothing out of the ordinary, aside from no Alex, his clothes and laptop missing and the room completely clean.  She wheels around to face the door where Amy’s now standing. 

“Where is he?  Is he hurt?”

“No, he’s not hurt.  If he’d been hurt, you would know,” Amy states, plainly.  “Last communication with Cash and Schmitty indicates that he’s perfectly fine.”

The confusion must show on her face. 

“He wrote you a letter before he left.  It’s on your desk.”

June quickly makes her way to her desk, flipping it open and reading it through twice before it sinks in.  Alex left. 

How bad do things have to be for Alex to leave?  How had she missed it?  She looks up at Amy now standing in her doorway, and asks, “Is this something I should’ve noticed?”

“No,” Amy states.  “Because it wasn’t something he noticed until he ran off to London a couple of weeks ago.  After he got back, he got yelled at and things just started hitting him hard.  He always blamed the Monarchy for why they’re hiding who the truly are, but it’s not just them.” 

June knows that the professional that Amy is means that she wouldn’t say anything bad about the president, but the implication is there. 

She nods.  “Guess that makes sense.”

“He’s fine though,” Amy assures her.  “Happily on a yacht somewhere doing things I don’t want to know about off the coast of who knows where – Spain or France?  They’re on their way to Lisbon and Cash checks in with me whenever they make port.”

June hums.  She supposes that makes sense.  Why hide out here when he can’t do anything?  And it’ll be good for him to slow down and really figure out his life, especially now that he’s committed to his prince charming.

“Does my mom know?”

“He asked that if no one asks about him to just let it stay a secret.  That if they come to his door to just say he wants to be left alone, but if they push it to tell them the truth.  Hence, what just happened.”

“So, that’s a no then.”

“Yes, it’s a no.  To be fair, it’s only been a couple of days.”

“Yeah, but I mean, she locked him in his room and …” June shakes her head.  “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“He didn’t want to hurt you, he just … needs some space.”

June nods.  “Yeah, thanks.”

With that, she figures she’ll give him his space.

***

September 9th, 2020

“We’ll be docking in Lisbon by noon,” Henry says as he joins Alex for breakfast.  “I had the idea that we could just explore the city on our own, but I suppose I should ask you if there were any ideas of things you’d like to see?”

Alex smiles and kisses his cheek.  “This is your adventure, I’m just along for the ride.”

“Funny, I seem to remember that it was your idea.”

“Just ‘cause it was my idea doesn’t mean that it’s not your adventure.”

“Well, I’ve decided it’s our adventure, and if there’s anything you’d like to see…”

“I’m good,” Alex assures him.  “I just wanna be with you.  It doesn’t matter what we do or see, just you and me together.”

“And you say you can’t match me for prose,” Henry teases. 

Alex laughs.  “My lists are definitely better for me than trying to be all sappy and romantic.”

“I don’t know about that,” Henry says, mirth evident in his eyes.  “There’s something horribly sappy and romantic about number seventeen on your list.”

It takes a second for Alex to remember 17. Your equally huge dick and burst out laughing.  “Yes, talking about your dick is always sappy and romantic.”

Cash, who’d been having his own breakfast alongside one of Henry’s PPOs, Hector, spits out his coffee.  He’s coughing as Hector knocks him on the back. 

They’re both laughing when Cash stops coughing.  “At breakfast, really?”

“You can’t really be surprised, Cash.”

“Why not?”

“Because you once guarded a bathroom door at a karaoke bar so I could blow him,” Alex retorts, not even bothering to blush.  Cash knows way too much about his love life to be remotely surprised by Alex’s … bluntness about sex.  Especially sex with Henry.

Cash hums.  “Not at the breakfast table, kay?”

“Fair enough, but Henry started it.”

“I alluded you to it, you’re the one that actually said it,” Henry refutes.

“Alluding to it is still starting it,” Alex counters and before he knows it, they are arguing semantics of which one of them really started talking about sex at the breakfast table. 

It takes very little time before their breakfast is abandoned and they’re kissing. 

They get lost in each other’s lips for who knows how long until Cash coughs and says, “Not at the table, please.”

They break apart, flushing slightly.  “Right, we should –” go to our room. 

Henry nods.  “Yeah, we should.”

They both get up to rush to their room mindful of the laughing Cash yelling, “Have fun!”

And they most certainly will.

***

The second that they get close enough to dock, they know it because Alex’s phone goes off.  He’s sorely tempted to just ignore it since he’s currently enjoying his boyfriends’ mouth on his dick, but Henry slows down and raises an eyebrow at him as if to say who is it?

Groaning, Alex reaches over and grabs the offending phone, answering it despite the fact that Henry hasn’t moved off his dick.  “Hi, Nora.”

“And June!” June says, into the phone.  “How come you answer her call and not mine?”

“You called?” Alex questions.  “We’ve been out at sea, and this is the first time my phone’s connected.”

“Oh, so you weren’t avoiding my call?”

“Of course not.”

Although if she’s upset with him, he probably would have, but he has no way of knowing that. 

“Unless you’re mad at me and then I –”

“I’m not mad.  I’m disappointed I didn’t suggest it earlier,” June offers.  “I know how much you’ve been struggling ever since the DNC and I should’ve suggested that you, at least, go hang out at the Lake House or something instead of making things worse with making you part of the meetings with Zahra.”

Oh.  Alex hadn’t considered that his words would make June feel bad about her attempt to keep him included.  He didn’t blame her, he blamed Zahra. 

“It’s not on you, June.  I promise I don’t blame you for all that.  I blame Zahra ‘cause she seemed to be gleeful about teasing me about why I couldn’t do it.”

“Still, I feel bad.  Especially since you didn’t even say goodbye –”

“At least you got a letter – I got nothing!”

“I’m his sister and I live across the hall from him – of course, I deserved a letter.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just text,” Nora says, clearly to him.

“Oh, well, I didn’t want my leaving to be obvious in case someone would want to stop me.”

“You realize that you’re an adult, right?” June asks.  “You could do whatever you want.”

“That’s funny because doing my boyfriend caused me to be locked away in my room for weeks,” Alex says, sarcastically.

“Alex!  I don’t want to hear about that.”

“It’s not like I said –”

“La la la la la,” June sings.

“Fine!” he shouts over her singing.  “My point still stands.  If I was an adult that could do whatever I wanted I wouldn’t have been locked away, but you’re right.  I just took some precautions, just in case, and now, Cash, Schmitty, and I are safely on Henry’s yacht, living the luxury yacht life.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy I guess it doesn’t matter,” June offers.

“But now, you have to tell us all about the yacht,” Nora states.  “I want all of the details!”

Alex glances down at Henry, who hasn’t moved from his spot keeping Alex warm.  He raises an eyebrow, but Henry gives him a thumbs up. 

So, Alex says, “Alright, well…”

June and Nora listen and ask questions for nearly twenty minutes about the yacht and Henry and their plan for this trip before June finally asks the obvious.

“Speaking of Henry?  Where is he?  I figured you’d be attached at the hip.”

Alex nearly chokes because Henry choses that moment to tease him with a flick of his tongue. 

“Oh, I imagine Henry’s there… just a bit busy,” Nora states.

“What do you mean?”

Rather than answer June directly, Nora says, “I bet you fifty bucks Henry’s got his mouth on Alex right now and has throughout the whole conversation.”

Alex is honestly shocked and not shocked that Nora could guess the somewhat obvious reason that Henry hasn’t spoken, but he’s not sure what to say.

“Gross!  Don’t answer that,” June nearly shouts.  “I don’t want to – why would you not stop when the phone rang?  Why would you answer the phone?  Gross!  I don’t need to know about that stuff, isn’t it bad enough I had to listen to your first time after the State Dinner?  Ugh!”

She clearly gets up and storms out of whatever room they’re in.  “Well, I love hearing about it, if you’d like to give me the details,” Nora says, once the door shuts.

“Uh, no.  It’s – honestly best to not talk about it, kay?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Nope, not happening.  And we’re in Lisbon and would like to see the city, so… talk later.”

“Fine, fine.”

With that, the phone call ends, and Henry goes back to work.

***

The day in Lisbon is nice.  It’s a little different to just … be visiting and not have obligations.  To be able to walk side by side with Henry and tease him openly and genuinely.  They could just be themselves and it’s a delight. 

He particularly loves Henry’s more relaxed style and not constantly wearing suits with boring ties.  He even makes a point of buying Henry a tie with the most outrageous pattern as a joke with which Henry counters with some gaudy crown that says, ‘is befitting the boyfriend of a prince’. 

They take a picture in Rossio Square – Henry wearing his tie and Alex with his crown, both laughing and happy and it’s perfect and he sends it off to June and Nora, who send back heart and smiling emojis. 

Walking the cobblestone streets of one of Lisbon’s oldest neighborhoods and seeing the beautiful colored homes around them reminds him of Mexico and he suggests that they add Mexico to their list of destinations, which Henry readily agrees. 

Most of their list is on Henry’s side of the pond right now, but some day they’ll make it over there and Alex could show him around.  It’ll be nice since it’s been awhile since he’s been there.

They stop for dinner at some little bistro.  A dimly lit booth, Alex is sitting as close to Henry as he can get without actually being in his lap, sipping wine and feeling content. 

For a first date, it’s pretty good.  He smiles.

“What are you thinking, love?”

“That for a first date, our visit to Lisbon is pretty nice.”

Henry nearly chokes on his wine.  “What makes you think this is our first date?”

“Is it not?” Alex questions.  “It certainly feels like it.”

Henry gives a small smile as he plays with one of Alex’s hands.  “Define date for me.”

Alex hums half-sure this is a trick question.  “Well, you spend time together just the two of you (and whatever security is necessary), go to dinner, and then, get lucky and spend the night together when you’re back to whatever place you’re staying.  That part isn’t necessary, but definitely part of many after-date plans especially for us.”

Henry’s chuckling softly as he says, “That describes most of our appearances together over the last year.”

At first, Alex wants to deny this.  There’s no way that he’s missed all of their dates, especially their first date.  That’s meant to be something that you take note of and recreate every year like the sappy characters in Henry’s favorite books. 

But then, he starts to think about it.

Obviously, the State Dinner doesn’t count.  Although they had dinner, Henry was avoiding him prior to that, and Alex explicitly told him that it was friends with blowjobs and sent him away to not spend the night spooning and having breakfast together in the morning (as that would be a relationship and he was in terrible denial about what that one night would do to him). 

He's pretty sure that Connecticut doesn’t count either.  After all, although he did do a boyfriend-like thing (showing up to his boyfriend’s polo match and spend at least an hour thinking about the dirty things that he wanted to do to him), they didn’t have dinner and blow jobs in a tack shed can’t really count as a date.

Then, he gets to Paris.  Their first night together.  Dinner at the little bistro, laughing over wine, going back to Alex’s hotel and falling asleep together, and waking up the next morning to have breakfast with Henry reading the copy of the paper (that currently sits at their bedside)…

Shit.  He should’ve known.  Every appearance that followed that one involved spending the night together after a dinner and enjoying breakfast together the next morning.  Hell, Henry had even sent him a special invitation to Wimbledon. 

“That’s … it was Paris?” Alex asks, unbelievingly.  “That’s why you kept the paper?”

Henry flushes.  “Although I didn’t think I could have you… as a boyfriend, and only get you as a friend with blowjobs, I couldn’t help … considering it a date.”

Alex groans.  “I don’t understand how I could be so … oblivious.”

“Your ability to stay in denial when something emotional can get to you is both astonishing and concerning at times, I must admit,” Henry states.  “However, you also thought we weren’t in a relationship when, by your own definition, a relationship was something between two people where you miss them when they’re not around, you communicate with them in any way possible as much as possible, and you have relations with them.”

“Fuck.  I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“Oh, no, dear, you’re a wonderful boyfriend,” Henry attempts to assure him.

“How can I be a wonderful boyfriend if we’ve been dating and in a relationship for months and it took me at least four months to acknowledge it?”

“Where are you getting four months?” Henry questions, frowning slightly.

“Well, Paris was in early March – if that was what falls as the official start and it seems like it does, considering that you kept the paper and it matches my definition of a date – and the DNC was in mid-July, then we were together Mid-March, April, May, June and Mid-July before I fully acknowledged that we were dating and together.”

Henry hums.  “I still don’t think that makes you a bad boyfriend, you were trying not to feel things because of the situation.  That’s allowed.”

“I guess.”  Alex shrugs.  He supposes that much is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely wants to spoil Henry and be the best boyfriend he can be.  “But from now on I’m going to be the best boyfriend ever.”

“I happen to think you already are, but now I’m curious about what that means,” Henry offers.

Alex grins.  “I haven’t fully decided, but – but I will find a way.”

“You always do.”

***

September 10th, 2020

“I’ve had a thought.”

“I highly doubt that,” Henry teases.

Alex throws him a look, they’ve arrived in Malaga, Spain, and as such, were making their plans with regards to spending the day there.  Given their previous nights’ discussion about dates and Alex’s lack of awareness for them, he wants to do something special and plan a date for them.

“Go on, then, what’s this thought,” Henry states as he continues eating breakfast.

“I want to plan a date for us today,” Alex states.  He’d already done some quick research during their breakfast and figures he could go for some museums, but thought Malaga Park, Jardin Botanico – Historico La Concepcion (botanical gardens), and Mirador de Gibralfaro (a scenic spot) would be nice and peaceful.  They’d be less likely to be noticed than at museum where their security would get attention.  “I wanna chose where we go and surprise you.”

Henry hums.  “I thought you said this was my adventure?  That you were just along for the ride?”

“Didn’t you counter that with it’s our adventure?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So, then, you should let me plan our date.”

“You know that you don’t have to, right?  Everything we talked about at dinner…”

“Yes, I know, but I still want to,” Alex states.  He bats his eyelashes at Henry, knowing they’re his weakness.  “Come on, baby, just let me do this for you.”

He sees Henry melt like he always does when Alex calls him baby, and says, “I suppose that I could let you plan the day just this once.”

“Good, you won’t regret it.”

Henry smiles at him.  “That was never the question.”

“Good.”

[she-karev]

Breakdown (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister PTSD Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 18+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 10

TRIGGER WARNING: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Attack, Flashback, Depression

Mental Health Resources: https://www.ptsd.va.gov/, https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/resources, https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

AN: I do NOT enjoy hurting my characters, let me make that clear and I certainly don’t enjoy hurting my head canon ships but I write not just for entertainment but to also send a message. Realistically someone with Amber’s traumatic childhood, relationship problems, and anxiety can crumble one day when it becomes too much to bear. I wanted to show that even the strongest person can ask for help when they feel it’s too much to overcome alone. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Amber Karev reaches a breaking point and confides in Andrew her dark thoughts. When he fails to get her to seek help he encourages her to talk to someone about her problems. She confides in her friend Jackson Avery her struggles who helps her see that there is no shame in admitting you need help. That night she and Andrew have a heartbreaking goodbye when she leaves to stay at her brother, Alex’s, while she takes time off work to go to therapy.

Words: 5852

May 18th, 2020

Amber quickly walks inside the pit where she sees Paul Wilkins lying in bed sleeping. She sees him alone with no nurse or resident on sight and decides to see what’s going on. She keeps a respectable distance from the large man before speaking to him.

“Mr. Wilkins?” The man wakes up and sits up looking at the young resident, “Hi I don’t know if you remember me I-”

“Your one of my doctors ain’t you?” Paul asks causing Amber to nod.

“Yes I’m Dr. Karev. Did a nurse follow up with you? Was there a resident to tell you what your results showed what caused the pain?”

“Nope, I’ve been here by myself about half an hour, nobody told me anything.”

Amber nods apologetically, “I’m sorry about that our staff is scrambled all over trying to keep things steady but that is no excuse.”

“Nah it’s fine doc.” Paul dismisses nonchalantly, “It ain’t like you don’t got an excuse. And I’m just a youngish man who gets takeout deliveries cause there isn’t anything else to pass the time. Did you get my results back?”

“We did.” Amber goes over the labs on her tablet, “Your labs show that your anemic, that means your iron deficient and it’s what caused your nausea. The good news is that this is very treatable with oral iron supplements, the bad news is your gonna have to say goodbye to greasy takeout food and opt for a homemade salad instead.”

Paul chuckles, “My wife is gonna be happy to hear that. Her job is on pause, and she took up making a rooftop vegetable garden. Answer me this, have you ever tried radish from a dirty pot on a rooftop?”

Amber grins amused, “No I have not.”

“We’ll you can thank the lord for that blessing.” Amber chuckles before writing down on her tablet.

“So, the nausea is under control, and you should make a full recovery and be discharged soon. We’ll give you a rapid test and if your positive your gonna have to quarantine in a private room for the next two weeks and call us if your symptoms worsen. I’m gonna send your pharmacy a prescription for oral Phenergan for the nausea and oral iron supplements to get your iron levels under control. Is there anyone you can call to pick you up and drive you home?”

“Yeah, my wife she’s home with our girls but uh…” Amber raises an eyebrow at that pause, “I don’t know how to zoom her. My girls help me and I don’t know how.”

Amber grins at that before opening the facetime app on her tablet and handing it to Paul, “You just put down your wife’s number in and if she answers she should pop up.”

Paul does as told and waits while the tablet rings before his wife answers and her face pops up at the other end, “Hi baby.”

“Paul!” His wife exclaims worried, “Oh my god I was so worried about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine I just need to eat less burgers that’s all. My doctor here can explain, say hi to doc.” Paul turns the tablet to face Amber who waves at his wife.

“Hi Mrs. Wilkins, I’m Dr. Karev, I’m your husbands’ doctor. So, your husband is anemic, that’s what caused the nausea and pain. Now this is very treatable with oral iron supplements and a more rigid diet moving forward, do you think you can help make sure he follows?”

“Oh, I will even if I have to shove lettuce down his throat.”

Paul chuckles, “Yep that’s Janice for you, never takes no for an answer.”

“Daddy!” Amber sees two little girls grabbing the phone and facing the resident who blanches at the sight of her patient’s kids. Kid’s that she almost left without a father if Jackson hadn’t corrected her error to the nurse.

Paul doesn’t notice her skin paling under her PPE and instead faces the tablet with renewed energy, “Hey babies! Don’t worry, daddy’s coming home soon thanks to this nice doctor lady. Say thank you to the doctor.”

Paul turns the tablet with Amber facing the two adorable little girls who smile widely at her making her heart sting, “Thank you doctor!”

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before smiling at the children behind her mask, “Your very welcome.” Paul turns the tablet to face him and Amber clears her throat before speking calmly, “Um I just sent your prescription in, it should be ready tonight. A nurse will discharge you, I have to be somewhere, if you have any questions have a nurse page me.”

Paul nods to Amber’s relief as she walks away from the pit. She doesn’t know where she is going but she can’t be in the pit face to face with a patient she almost harmed. The N95 mask she is wearing feels like a stove in her face, and she registers her breathing is becoming increasingly erratic.

Amber feels relief when she sees an empty family room that she quickly enters and shuts the door behind her. The comfortable couch and armchair are barely registered in her brain that feels like it’s spinning inside her skull. The panicking resident rips her face shield off her face along with her N95. But the air in her hot face is not enough for her to breathe in through her nose or her mouth that is hyperventilating. She leans forward against a wall, pressing her forehead against her clasping fists trying to control her breathing.

“Calm down, Karev, calm down.” Amber recites to herself but her voice does little to make herself relax. Her chest feels like it’s being squeezed inside and once again her feet feel like their planted on the ground.

The overlapping sounds from nurses and doctors outside the room are becoming muffled like they’re slowly moving a thousand miles away. Instead of the usual hospital chatter and equipment being moved all her hears is a ringing in her ear that she registers as her breathing gets shorter isn’t a ringing at all, it’s a flatline tone.

April 1st 2020

Amber looks down at her patient Ian Talbert who is lying in bed waiting for the release of death that comes to men his age who contract covid. The young resident has never felt so helpless, so insignificant, less like a doctor and more as a witness of death.

The 64-year-old actuary just offered the depressed resident a parting gift, his deceased daughters army dog tags. At first, she refused out of respect but reluctantly took them at Ian’s insistence that there was no one else to take them from him. Hearing Ian say there was nobody in his life to keep him company in his last moments makes the youngest Karev take action even if it kills her emotionally. She holds his hand with the dog tags and sits down in the chair next to him.

“I’m here. I am not going anywhere.” Amber promises holding his hand as he tears up from her kindness.

“I don’t blame you.” Ian states to a guilty Amber who closes her tearful eyes and looks down in shame, “I’m gonna see my daughter. Do you believe that?”

Amber sniffles and looks back up at her friend with tears in her eyes still holding his weakening hand.

“I didn’t give it much thought until this happened.” Amber admits, “But yeah, I want to believe there’s something good for you after all this pain. I really want to believe it.”

Ian’s breathing gets shallower, and he lays in bed looking up at the ceiling waiting for the release of death. Amber is still by his side holding his hand making sure he is not alone, it’s the only thing she can do at a time like this.

“Everything I have…is yours.” Ian proclaims.

A few moments pass before Ian stops breathing and lays still in bed with his eyes wide open. Amber looks and sees the monitors flatline without the sound. She looks back at Ian and let’s go of his limping hand to close his eyes. Her lip quivers as her eyes fill with tears before she sobs by the bed, saddened by what the world has come to and how many good people it’s lost in the process.

Present

“Amber!” The familiar sound of Andrew causes her to gasp and open her eyes. No longer is she leaning against her fists, instead she is sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. She registers that her knees are drawn up to her chest and her hair is stinging in pain.

Amber realizes she was pulling her own hair and possibly rocking back and forth like a child while lost in the flashback. She also looks at her boyfriend in front of her who looks frightened out of his mind no doubt she looked like she was losing it, and the thought fills her with shame.

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before asking, “What happened?”

“You went white, you were pulling your hair, and you were hyperventilating.” His voice is strained as if seeing her in that state broke his heart, “And when I touched you, you screamed.”

“I…what?” Amber feels her throat sore and realizes he is right as she speaks raspy, “Damn it…who heard?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Andrew dismisses needing to focus on the main issue, “Amber I have tried to be patient and back off like you wanted because every time I even ask you if you’re okay you lash out, but I can’t stand idly by not anymore. You need to see a therapist, right now as soon as possible.”

Amber shakes her head on autopilot, “No I’m f-

“You’re not fine.” Andrew insists sternly, “You had a full-on flashback, you weren’t here you were somewhere else, and I know it wasn’t the first time today. The nurses said they saw you stare off into space at the pit. That is not a symptom of a person who is fine you and I both know that.”

“Andrew, I don’t want to talk about this!” Amber exclaims in frustration before standing up and keeping a distance between them, “What part of that don’t you understand? I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk to some stranger about my fucked-up life, I don’t want to be another crazy person in my family like my mom!”

Andrew closes his eyes at that realizing this goes deeper than burnout as Amber keeps denying what is wrong, “I am trying to move on and rise on my own time in my own way. And yeah, maybe I missed some sleep, and my mind takes me to the worst moments of my life but guess what, not all of us can get stabbed and walk away five minutes later like nothing happened. We’re all not that lucky!”

Andrew widens his eyes at that low blow his girlfriend achieved. He would feel angry five months ago except back then he didn’t lash out at the woman he loves when he was having a mental breakdown. It was this moment he realized how hopeless Amber felt then and that knowledge makes his guilt grow even more and makes him more determined to persist like she did and help her like she tried to help him.

“…I’m not lucky Amber.” Andrew starts calmly, “A lucky person wouldn’t get stabbed, a lucky person wouldn’t drive the love of his life away, a lucky person wouldn't inherit his estranged father’s mental illness. I am far from the luckiest guy alive, and I was traumatized after what happened. I spent the first two weeks after my surgery waking up from nightmares and looked over my shoulder afraid someone was gonna come and finish the job. I was a freaking mess and the reason you don’t know this was because I didn’t want to burden you so soon after you miraculously decided to give us another chance.”

Amber stands there frozen with a remorseful face as Andrew continues with a strained voice, “I didn’t want to trigger you again and lose you again because I love you. And the reason I was so perfect in your book was because I had myself invested in my mental health by then. I take my meds; I go to therapy, and it helps me process what happened to me and move forward. I am trying to help you do the same because…because I can’t watch you ignore what is wrong like I did with my father I can’t. Just talk to me please. Just tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you okay? I want to help.”

Amber sniffles at this confession. A part of her wants to tell him…but a nagging feeling in her brain is reminding her of every fight they had when he was manic. It is playing the time he told her she would end up like her abusive father. It is playing the time he compared her to her neglectful mother. It played the weeks he ghosted her after his public breakdown. All of these horrible memories make her feel like she’s swimming in a blackhole before she coldly responds.

“You can’t help Andrew.” Amber replies numbly, “Nobody can help because you can’t fix me any better than when I tried to fix you. You hurt me and you lashed out at me and nothing I did got through to you so why do you think now would be any different?”

“Amber I’m trying to help.” Andrew pleads but it falls on deaf ears.

“You want to help me?” Andrew sees the hurt in her eyes as her voice is low and shaky, “Make the pandemic go away, make it so my mom actually got better when I needed her, make it so my brother didn’t inherit this illness. Make it so everyone I love in my life didn’t go crazy and hurt me in every way possible. Can you do that?!”

Andrew frowns at this inquiry that makes him silent with melancholy, “Yeah that’s what I thought. You can’t make this better because nothing ever gets better. Not the world, not the hospital, not our patients, not me. Everything is falling apart, and everyone is dying, and nobody knows how to fix it.”

Andrew stands there silent for a moment as he processes her depressing statement that is plaguing everyone. But he sees this isn’t just burnout or even depression, this is Amber falling apart after so many years of bottling up her pain. He knows he alone can’t help her…but he knows she needs someone to turn to even if it’s not him and wants to encourage her to do so.

He nods with a hard line on his face, “Your right I can’t fix the world and everything that is wrong with your life…but that doesn’t mean you have to let this helplessness and hopelessness take hold of you and never let go. I almost let it and if it wasn’t for Carina, Bailey and Webber I would be in the same place you are right now. Unwilling to help myself because the truth is too scary to face. I was lucky to have people that didn’t give up on me. And you have that too even if this thing your feeling can’t let you see it.”

Amber looks at Andrew with tear glistened eyes, “If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, I know after everything I put you through, I am the last person you feel safe to be vulnerable with. But please talk to someone else, someone you feel safe with, like Alex or Jackson who were there for you when I wasn’t. Talk to them before it eats you alive.”

Amber stands there for a moment looking broken beyond repair at this insistence. Even when she tries to push him away he is still trying to help her at her lowest. This gesture would melt her heart…except now her heart feels like it’s not working. It feels like everything inside of her is dying, it feels like all of the pain and misery has made her feel everything and nothing. Unable to bear him seeing this, Amber quickly leaves the room.

She walks toward the pit looking to work to escape this feeling, to escape all that is wrong. Except something stops her dead in her tracks just as she enters the mostly empty ER. Paul Wilkins is still in bed, except this time his wife is by his side. They are both talking and keeping their distance but the love between them is clear to the resident.

It’s clear to her that this scene in front of her wouldn’t be happening. It’s clear to her that Paul could be dead because his doctor prescribed him medication, she forgot he was allergic to because she was tired and stressed.

It’s clear that if her friend hadn’t been checking on her and correcting her little mistakes that almost culminated in a massive one, she would be fired or worse. It’s clear to her that Andrew was right about her needing to talk to someone before she lets this despair, she’s experiencing kill one of her patients. It’s clear she needs to talk to someone before it’s too late.

Later

Jackson looks out the window of the attendings lounge lost in thought as the pitter patter of rain falls from the dark sky. It seems like fitting weather for the day he’s had. First, he tried to talk to Amber about her obvious mental decline and then he had to work with a mother and daughter suffering from covid who both had to be put on a vent when ventilators were in shortage now.

Luckily his and Maggie’s quick thinking were able to convert one vent into a double tubing that can be used for both of them at the same time. It is a solution that can help trauma patients and covid patients use desperately needed vents without fear of a shortage.

However, his sorrow is still present as he has one problem remaining with his best friend who left to work despite what transpired with Paul Wilkins. It’s a problem that has him seriously contemplating on reporting her to Bailey and forcing her to get help or get fired. This decision is stalled by the door being burst open and slammed shut. Jackson turns to find Amber entering the room looking more disheveled than when she left him.

Amber is gripping the table chair by the top looking down at her feet with a struggle on her face that worries Jackson. It’s a look he’s never seen on her, it’s a look of distress that has never been shown in this confident and collected resident, until today. Jackson moves to face Amber across the table sitting down in the chair six feet away from her. He keeps a neutral face that he hopes allows her to feel safe enough to finally admit she needs help.

Amber sniffles and looks up to face Jackson with tear glistened eyes before speaking in a small voice, “Ask me again.”

Jackson furrows his eyebrows confused that Amber catches causing her to elaborate, “Ask me what I saw…when I was blacking out before I prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran. Ask me what caused me to forget vital patient information.”

“…What did you see before you prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran?”

Amber swallows and takes a moment before responding in a raspy voice, “A nurse was playing a song, Complicated by Avril Lavigne. It triggered me I think and my mind took me somewhere else, somewhere that felt like I was living a memory all over again. I was nine years old; I was listening to that song and then…and then my mom came bursting in off her meds again. She thought there was an intruder, and she was threatening to kill them. I instantly knew she was gonna attack me because it was just me there but the damn schizophrenia would make her see a monster instead of her own daughter. Her illness would kill me, and she wouldn’t even know it until after.”

Jackson looks at her in sympathy while she continues with tears streaming down her eyes sniffling, “I grabbed the phone and hid in the closet like Alex and Aaron told me to do when mom has an episode. I hid in the closet and called Aaron, he heard mom screaming so he said he would be there as fast as he could and to keep quiet and keep hiding so I did…I hid in that closet for half an hour, listening to my mom’s screams and rants that got worse when she started throwing stuff around. I didn’t move, I didn’t make a peep because I was afraid if I so much as breathed out loud Helen would know, and I would be at her mercy without my brothers there to protect me. So I stayed still, I stayed quiet and ever since that day when I hear that song…I am reminded of that awful moment in that closet. But today was the first time I ever had a flashback like that, and do you want to know what the worst part of it is?” Jackson shakes his head listening attentively as his friend shares her struggles with him, “These past few months I felt like that scared little girl in the closet again.”

Amber gasps a breath before grabbing a napkin from the kitchenette to wipe her eyes before explaining to Jackson facing the sink instead of him, “Growing up in that house, in my family…I felt helpless and weak. I put on this tough front like I can handle anything, but it was just that, a front. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was scared, scared of my mom and her crazy and then again with Aaron. You spend a part of your childhood in and out of foster care you learn to close off a part of yourself to survive. I have done that all of my life; I fought tooth and nail to survive…but I always felt like nothing I did mattered. And that feeling…it’s gotten worse since the day we learned we were in a pandemic.”

Jackson stands up with a solemn expression standing six feet next to Amber so she can know he’s still there. He always knew Amber was tough but seeing her breakdown and admit underneath it all is a scared girl has him feeling bad for her as she needed help for so long, but nobody has given it to her or even saw that she needed it.

Amber wipes her tears with the napkin, “Do you know why I became a doctor? I wanted to use the part of my brain that was healthy, the part of that was strong and decisive, the part that my mother’s illness wouldn’t touch. I wanted to feel like I was in control, like I mattered but now…” Amber shudders unable to finish.

Jackson can tell where she was going and finishes for her, “Now it feels like the career you choose to escape your hell from is just another one taking you back to your childhood.”

Amber whimpers as she nods confirming his theory causing her to blow her nose on the napkin before continuing, “I thought it was something I could get used to, something I could fight against until it ended. It’s why I’m working so hard till I’m bone tired, because it’s the only thing I know how to do in a crisis…but then I made a mistake that almost killed someone. I almost became the kind of doctor Andrew’s dad was the night he killed four patients…I almost became the kind of doctor that killed my father. The only difference is that unlike my father that man would have been missed by his family and I would have been the reason that wife lost her loving husband and why those kids lost their great dad. He could have died and not because of a virus I couldn’t control but because of something I could. He could have died because I was too weak to do the job I was entrusted with.”

“Amber look at me, look at me.” Amber sniffles and turns to face him and she grips the sink, “You are not weak, you are the least weak person I know. Mr. Wilkins could have died because of the Zofran you prescribed yes but he didn’t. He didn’t because you have people who could see you are understandably crumbling at all this death and illness surrounding us. And you realized your mistake, you remembered what the paramedics told you and you ran like hell to stop it. Shane Ross refused to sleep and talk to anyone about his problems. He didn’t help himself and it caused him to hallucinate and take your father in for a botched surgery that caused organ failure. Webber had to physically tell him what was happening right in front of him to get him to step down. He went down a rabbit hole and pushed everyone away and alienated anyone who tried to reach out. He refused to acknowledge what was wrong and stop himself from burning out and hurting patients in the process, that is the difference between the two of you. You stopped and you took a breath and came here to talk to someone who could help. I’ve learned from my nature walks that sometimes the best thing to do is to just stand still and let your feelings and your pain be known to you so you can know what is causing it to begin with.”

Amber presses her lips together as his words hit her and cause more tears to form in her eyes, “You stopped and stood still before you could go down the same path as Ross and Vincenzo DeLuca and have everything you worked hard to gain be taken away from you because you didn’t admit you weren’t okay. You did the hardest thing a person can do and that is not weakness. You are working in a hospital during a pandemic, and it can cause anyone to feel dejected and it’s especially hard for a person like you who knows the feeling of helplessness too well. What you are doing right now, admitting the problem in front of you after a lifetime of keeping your guard up, is not weakness, it is an act of incredible strength. And I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you than at this very moment.”

Amber shakes her head at that and replies numb, “I don’t feel strong.”

Jackson nods understanding that and decides to get to the next step Amber needs to take, “Don’t worry, you only have to be strong enough to do one more thing.”

Amber sniffles knowing the words that need to come out, it takes all her strength the muster the three words she has never said in her life, “…I need help.”

Amber exhales after saying these words feeling like a weight is being listed off her shoulders. She begins to sob at this admission of needing professional help knowing this will not be an easy journey but it’s one she must take in order to feel like her best self once again.

That Night

Andrew opens the door to his apartment feeling the need to shower and sleep as soon as he comes in. He exhales in exhaustion from work and his relationship. He hasn’t seen Amber since she walked out after refusing to talk to him. DeLuca doesn’t know where Amber is and hopes she took his advice and talked to someone about her struggles.

He enters the living room where he pauses at a shocking sight. He sees Amber sitting on the couch looking up at him sadly with two of her suitcases by her side packed. Andrew would normally think this is Amber leaving Andrew out of disdain for his insistence that she seek therapy. But seeing the sorrowful look on her face tells him a different story, it tells him this isn’t being done out of anger but out of seeking help for herself like he wanted.

Andrew moves to sit on the couch next to Amber and waits until she’s comfortable enough to speak to him, “…I’m not okay. I thought I was but I’m not okay. I know how to push through the pain and try to ignore it but…it’s too much death to ignore and it’s breaking me down. It feels like everything around me is just a constant reminder that I’m not good enough and I just feel helpless all over again. I felt helpless and weak growing up and I worked so hard to be strong and successful but now…now it’s like it was all for nothing, like I am nothing and it’s not going away.”

Andrew sighs at this holding her hand to let her know he is not going anywhere again, “It’s not going away and I…I know it’s gonna take a lot more than just surviving to get through it. I know I need to rest and actually face this thing and treat it like it’s a disease before I let it consume me. This thing…it’s been there since I was a kid and it’s gotten worse since March. It’s gotten worse to the point where I prescribed Zofran to a patient a paramedic told me he was allergic to. I almost let my trauma kill a man, if it wasn’t for Jackson, I would never forgive myself. And if it wasn’t for Jackson, I wouldn’t admit what you two saw before me. I need help. And that’s why I can’t stay here while I do. This apartment…it’s filled with horrible memories of one of the many times I felt like I was unworthy of love and felt like everyone I loved went crazy because I was in the same room as them.”

Amber sniffles and wipes a tear away causing Andrew anguish as he knows he caused her to feel that way along with her mom and brother. It causes him to have tears glisten in his eyes feeling responsible for hurting the woman he loves.

Amber faces him with a red rimmed eyes, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was the illness that caused you to act like that. All of this isn’t your fault, you were just a very tiny part of my long torturous life that piled on my psyche until this point.”

“But I was still a part of it.” Andrew says out of shame and regret, “I’m sorry, I wish I was a person to mend your pain instead of causing it. I want to be that person.”

“You were.” Amber admits truthfully, “You still are I just…I love you so much and right now I need some space for a little bit to figure out how to fix myself by myself. I need to do that otherwise I’m gonna rely on you or my family or my friends to feel better and that can’t be an option for me right now with everything going on. I need to figure out how to not feel like I’m dying inside.”

Andrew nods understanding this more than anyone as he has been there before and hopes Amber can heal like he’s trying to, “I’m gonna go to my brothers for a few weeks. It’s a safe place I think will be perfect for me while I take time off to sort myself out”

Andrew nods holding her hand tighter, “I know how hard this is, believe me and I wish I could say it’s gonna be easy but it’s not. It’s gonna be hard in the beginning but eventually you’re gonna finally move past your reluctance and whatever it is that’s making you feel like you are less important than you actually are. Trust me when I say, it’s gonna get better and I’ll be right here to help and right here when you get back. I promise, I’m not gonna stop loving you when you get help. I promise you I am not leaving this time, I’m here for good, I swear.”

Amber feels slightly better at that story looking at Andrew with love, “I know that. I love you too I just…I need space from you and everything else so I can focus on myself and get better. I need to stop fighting and just stand still. I need to do that for myself, I need to help myself.”

Andrew nods understanding her need to get her priorities straight like he did. He sees a little of the smart, strong and resilient woman he fell in love with right now even if she doesn’t. He leans forward and kisses her gently.

She reciprocates this kiss with a tear down her cheek as their lips touch. Amber touches the back of his neck bringing him closer as they stop kissing and instead lean against each other’s foreheads closing their eyes as they take in this last moment between them before Amber goes.

Andrew doesn’t feel sad but rather relief that the woman he loves is taking the time to heal and hopefully come back to him better like he did when his friends and family made him see that it was okay to admit your not okay.

He makes this known to Amber caressing her cheek and looking into her tearful eyes, “Your gonna be okay, I know it. I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Amber whispers back giving him another tender kiss before standing up and grabbing her suitcase with Andrew carrying the other. They walk out of the apartment to Amber’s car where they load the bags into the trunk before getting inside.

Amber is in the passenger seat with Andrew behind the wheel. Before he starts the engine, he looks over to find Amber looking down at her hands twiddling with her fingers. Andrew can tell she is scared to start this chapter just like he was when his sister drove him to the treatment center.

He looks at his girlfriend in sympathy and holds her shaking hands as a gesture of comfort. She appreciates this as she holds his hand with both of hers that shake less. Amber takes a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on her breathing.

She inhales and exhales slowly a few times before opening her eyes and looking at Andrew still holding his hand. Amber sniffles before nodding to let him know she’s okay. He nods back, giving her hands one good squeeze before letting go to start the car. Andrew begins to drive down the road with Amber looking out the window watching the landscape pass as she lets her breath out and closes her eyes to rest before she reaches her destination.

[battle-subway-aftershow]

Inconspicuous mustache and glasses on, soooo you wanna talk about how galar could be good huh?

Points at you this is all your fucking fault (/j)

Anyways you’ve poked me so I’m going to talk about it now. Sorry not sorry.

Before I say anything: “Moth, Tinker, don’t like, all your characters live in galar?” Yes! Because when you’re making an au for Pokémon why make a region out of scratch, when Game Freak’s left a perfectly good blank slate for you right there?

Anyways with that out of the way, I’m putting this under a cut because this is going to be long.

Sword and shield are such disappointing games. You could say a million things about it— the graphics, the routes, the nat dex cut, so on and so forth, but that’s a long dead horse and im not going to start beating it.

I like Sw/Sh’s story. Or, more accurately I like the idea of the story that the games tried and failed to give us. I really want to say there’s something there to grasp at, but honestly? There’s not. Nothing burger ass game.

The plot up until the climax of the story is “The darkest day was a thing and there was a hero that stopped it. Bede’s mean and wants wishing stars. Wait, what?! There’s two heroes? And badass dogs? No way!”

It genuinely feels like they had a full story arc with plot beats written out, but had to scratch everything besides the climax and try to fill in the gaping plot holes as quickly as they could before they hit the deadline for release. It’s so jarring and bizarre when you reach the climax of the story, because it’s just… out of nowhere? You and Hop try to break into the Macro Cosmos tower to interrupt Leon’s meeting because he was… late for dinner? And Oleana hears this and starts acting like an unhinged evil antagonist out of nowhere, even though at the moment not letting you in is just, perfectly logical?

And then the whole hide and seek game she does for the keys— Team Yell joining in, none of this feels deserved at all, probably because there was, I don’t know, supposed to be things happening before this that properly built up to it?

It’s so frustrating, because if they had even executed the story at all, it would’ve been so cool. The guy who practically MADE galar is re-awakening what is basically an eldritch god in a misguided attempt to save the region from future disaster (trauma? Paranoia? All of the above?) but his plan backfires and nearly destroys everything instead??? It’s such a cool idea! And it’s just. Barely even executed at all.

Oleana and Rose both could’ve been such interesting characters. Their Pokémon teams are symbolic of themselves as people, for crying out loud! Imagine how cool those fights, especially Oleana’s, could’ve been if there had been a proper fucking storyline??

(I won’t go too in-depth, but Oleana using beautiful and feminine Pokémon up until her g-max garbador ace— a literal heaping pile of trash? And how that represents the her horrible personality hidden behind her appearance?

And how Rose’s team is made up of thorn and thorn-like Pokémon, as well as industrial Pokémon and his childhood starter? Without a rose in sight? He’s lost who he was to the pursuit of innovation or something. There’s no Rose anymore, only the thorns. Too bad there’s nothing before these moments.)

It ends up just feeling like a barely even executed dollar store version of Sun and Moon. You’ve got the punk evil team who isn’t actually evil, the altruistic company/foundation that turns out to be far worse than the evil team, extraterrestrial pokemon who are very debatably Pokémon being brought into the world and causing problems? Yeah everything screams “we tried to recreate the s/m formula,” down to Hop using Hau’s animations. Insane.

(Also team yell feels like another dead horse that I don’t want to beat— but they don’t work like Team Skull did. Team skull worked! Really well in my opinion! Meanwhile Team Yell is just… kind of a vague nuisance. I get that was the point, but if Macro Cosmos was going to be the villains— why not give any buildup beforehand? Oh well. I said I wouldn’t beat the dead horse.)

Tl;dr: Sword and shield is barely even trash, it’s an empty dumpster with some unopened cans in it and I am sitting in there playing with the cans trying to create a coherent story out of it. Man galar’s good if only it was good. Go watch Twilight wings it’s Galar if it was good

And also sw/sh feels uncannily like bootleg sun and moon, bri’ish edition.

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 41 – The Calm Before the Storm.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 40 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it." / “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not."

Your return back home to Lake Tahoe isn't marked without grudges, resent and guilt from others that you may have already set aside. What was once seeing as attention seeking, insignificant behavior threatens to create a rift between marriage but the truth is yet to be revealed. You want nothing more than to move on with your life, away from your mother and Fredo's death and any possibility increased tensions from rivalling mafia families but from what you believed was done for everybody's good has already sealed your fate.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of prostitution / Strip teasing / Heavy fluff / Touching & kissing / Nipple play & teasing.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: A new chapter of Moth to Flame is finally here!! 😭❤️ I can't believe it's been about ~2 months since I last updated?! Since I'm focused on fic uploads/writing only at the moment, I'm looking forward to a lot more frequent and back to back updates for you guys. 🥴 Better late than never! Michael and Victoria's story continues, or should I say in this chapter that also means Sonny and Sandra's? 👀 Drama, drama, drama...! It was definitely coming, and now it's going to build into something spiralling completely out of control. We need to focus on baby Vincent and the twins' cuteness above all. 😂😍

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

[ Lake Tahoe Compound, 7:00 AM ]

From the moment you came to rest your head upon your pillow and snuggle up in your own bed next to your husband at home, every thought, concern, and memory of what occurred in Las Vegas has left not only yours but Michael’s mind as well.

From a well-deserved good night’s sleep in pure relaxation, Michael and you have awoken shortly before seven in the morning to start your day and spend it with the family—taking a break from traveling and business.

“Okay, baby,” you run your hands through your hair gently to smoothen it down, moving towards the shower. “I’m going to wake up the children and get them ready for breakfast.”

Michael pulls back the shower curtain to peek his head out; his soaked hair sticking to his temples and droplets of water dribbling down from his lips and chin. “Alright, darling.”

You blush, leaning over and pecking a kiss over Michael’s wet lips. “I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

Just from leaning over towards the hot shower, Michael’s having, you can already feel the warm steam from the running water mixing in with the heavenly scent of Michael’s body surrounding you with that kiss.

Michael prefers to shower first thing in the morning on his days off whereas if he has business to tend to or places to be, he’ll do so at the end of his day like you.

It may be a day off for both of you, but the same doesn’t apply to the twins who have half a day’s worth of tutoring and studying awaiting them.

As you walk out of your bedroom and down the hallway, you step into the nursery room to check on baby Vincent first thing.

As you and Esther have left it, the nursery door remains open so you can both easily hear Vincent’s crying or stirring from his sleep.

Taking a quick look in, you see baby Vincent still curled up in his crib sleeping soundly; bringing a smile to your lips.

Moving a bit further down the hallway, you quietly open the door to Niccolo and Verona’s bedrooms side by side with one another before stepping into each one and gently nudging the children’s shoulders before giving them a kiss on the cheek.

“Niccolo, Verona, good morning. It’s time to wake up, you two!”

“Mmmmm…” Verona squirms in her bed, stretching out her arms. “I’m…awake.”

“Sleepy,” Niccolo groans back from his room, sitting up in his bed. “It’s morning already?”

“It is,” you chuckle, stepping back out into the hallway. “Good morning to both of you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Verona pulls herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s showering right now but will join us for breakfast soon,” you gesture to the two as they put on their slippers. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you two washed up and ready to start the day. I think your little brother is…” You squint your eyes, peeking into the nursery room again. “Still asleep.”

“Vincent is very sleepy,” Verona giggles, skipping to the estate’s second bathroom with her brother.

“I say that too and then the next moment, he’s suddenly awake and staring at us,” you laugh to yourself, following the twins.

“Minty fresh,” Verona picks up her toothbrush with Niccolo, smearing a modest amount of toothpaste over it before handing it to her brother and staying by the sink.

“Mhmm,” you pick up Verona’s hairbrush, standing behind her. “And how would you like your hair styled today, sweetie? Any ideas?”

“I really like the pigtails we did last week, mama,” Verona beams, beginning to brush her teeth. “With the red ribbons!”

“Ooh, of course,” you step back to open one of the bathroom cabinets, taking two silky, red ribbon ties and slipping them over your wrist. “Pigtails for today it is.”

“Mama, are you gonna tell us about your trip?” Niccolo asks curiously, wetting his toothbrush.

“Ya, like—” Verona covers her toothpaste-filled mouth, “if it’s really fun flying on an airplane!”

“I never thought about it that way,” you smile at the two, styling through Verona’s hair. “Honestly, I haven’t really been thinking of the trip. It wasn’t anything for fun, after all, otherwise, we would have taken you too.”

“Yeah,” Niccolo agrees, looking at himself in the mirror as he begins to brush his teeth. “Daddy had work.”

“And I always get sleepy and tired on plane rides, even if where we’re going isn’t too far away,” you admit sheepishly, tying up one ponytail over Verona’s hair.

“Mama gets too cozy,” Verona laughs, “I would too! Las Vegas is close to home, right mama?”

“It is,” you nod back, “so it wasn’t too bad to travel there. Your father and I just wanted to get home as soon as we could.”

“Why, mama?” Verona continues asking.

You pause for a moment, continuing to brush through her hair. “Because it was dull and boring, all for work and business for your daddy. We had to get it done though, but I won’t say I had fun.”

“That’s fair, mama,” Niccolo agrees. “Maybe it’ll be fun if we come.”

“Maybe,” you tie up the second pigtail over Verona’s hair. “You guys want to go on a vacation soon?”

“Soon, yes!” Verona exclaims, moving to rinse out her mouth by the sink.

“We absolutely will,” you take out a tin of hair gel from the cabinet, moving to style and brush through Niccolo’s hair next. “Your daddy and I were thinking of it. I can’t remember the last time we took you guys to Sicily, you know. You were both just little babies.”

“Yes, please!” Verona giggles through rinsing her mouth. 

“I wanna go too,” Niccolo chimes in, “Grandma and Grandpa always talk about Sicily.”

“You won’t have to wait too long then,” you plant a kiss over Niccolo’s head before combing through his hair. “Your daddy wants to go just as much as we all do, and maybe you guys can remind him today too, hmm?”

“I will for sure,” Verona turns off the tap, grabbing a face towel. “I wanna go and visit!”

“Me too,” Niccolo slowly moves towards the sink so you can continue styling the gel carefully through his hair while he rinses his mouth out. “We all go with Daddy!”

“He’ll be downstairs in just a minute,” you glance out towards the hallway, “let’s both get you dressed so we can meet Daddy downstairs.”

~

Turning off the water, Michael pulls back the shower curtain and gives out a deep breath—letting the hot steam of the shower surround him as he squeezes out the excess water from his hair.

Michael rakes a hand through his wet hair, slicking it away from his face before he steps out of the shower and reaches to grab a body towel.

Wrapping the towel around his waist securely, Michael takes a separate towel to ruffle through his hair as he approaches the foggy sink.

Wiping his hand over the mirror to clear it, Michael notices a bit of his stubble is growing through and opens the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror to grab his razor and a tube of shaving cream.

Standing in front of the sink, Michael begins to modestly lather shaving cream over his cheeks and jawline, faintly being able to hear the sound of you and the children heading downstairs for breakfast.

Carefully yet in swift, quick motions, Michael shaves without a single nick or cut over his skin; rinsing off his face before applying a cooling aftershave balm.

Michael continues to press the towel down through his hair thoroughly to soak up as much moisture as he can before he combs through it neatly and reaches for his tin of hair gel.

Barely being able to tell that his hair is still damp, Michael begins to thoroughly apply the gel and slick his hair back from the middle; keeping it neat without a single strand loose and out of place.

Michael then makes his way into the bedroom, drying himself off with his towel before picking out a pair of grey briefs, a white dress shirt you ironed for Michael the other day with a pair of black slacks, a matching waistcoat, white socks, and a tie. 

Setting aside his suit jacket, Michael doesn't intend to wear it in the comfort of his own home knowing he won't have business or guests to entertain today—no exceptions regardless of how "urgent" others may consider it to be, but Michael's also never been lazy or sloppy when it comes to his choice of attire no matter the occasion or time.

Spraying cologne over his neck and collarbone, Michael walks out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind him, looking forward to spending the entirety of his day with his family and only his family; perhaps limited in interaction with Sonny for now as Michael's internal annoyance and irritation still cool.

Michael especially wishes to spend the vast majority of his time with you and the children more than anything else; missing his children but also knowing he didn't get to spend much quality time with you in Las Vegas either, aside from last-minute lovemaking in the evening.

Michael first approaches Vincent's nursery before heading downstairs, seeing the crib is empty but the sounds of his baby son babbling downstairs from the kitchen.

The scent of Michael's cologne comes down before you even sense your husband's presence or see him; in the kitchen with baby Vincent sitting in his baby seat close to you and by the dining table with his older siblings.

Verona and Niccolo sit across from each other and surround Vincent, smiling and distracting their little baby brother with a handful of toys as you get to preparing breakfast.

"He's so tiny," Verona giggles to herself, handing Vincent a toy he dropped. "Teeny tiny!"

Vincent smiles up at his siblings aimlessly, very receptive to laughter and positive voices surrounding him. 

"He is a tiny little guy, isn't he?" You chuckle, dressed in a burgundy shirtwaist dress with a pair of house flats on; standing by the stove and preparing breakfast.

While you've just picked up on Michael's cologne signaling he's nearby, Michael's taken in the scent of breakfast being cooked while coming down to the kitchen.

In a pan, you sautee together chopped pieces of bacon, Italian sausage crumble, grated mozzarella and cheddar, green pepper, mushrooms, and small broccoli florets.

You reach into the egg carton next to you on the counter, setting three eggs aside. 

Michael leans against the doorway, taking in the delicious scent of the meat and vegetables being sauteed and feeling the warm spring breeze coming from the back door flow into the kitchen.

Distracted, you crack three eggs into the frittata you're making, disposing of the eggshells in the little trashcan next to you and giving your hands a quick rinse in the sink.

Michael gazes at you with intrigue, watching you quickly your wrist moves to whisk in the eggs quickly into the frittata and reach for a carton of cream from the refrigerator.

Michael's eyes admire the way your hips move, how your dress adorns your body, and every inch of you in nothing but pure adoration.

Already having noticed their father from afar standing by quietly, the twins giggle amongst each other in reaction; very clearly aware as to how their father is lovingly appreciating their mother behind her back.

"Good morning," you hear Michael's velvety voice call out from behind; causing your heart to race just like that.

"Good morning, Daddy!" The twins chime in together.

"Aaa," Vincent shakes his rattling toy aimlessly, unsure why the sudden upbeat enthusiasm is coming from his siblings but just happy to join in on it.

"Good morning, darling," you turn around blushing, seeing a small smile over Michael's lips.

"Aaa!" Vincent raises his voice in excitement, waving around his toy.

"I think he says good morning too, Daddy," Niccolo laughs.

"I believe so," Michael walks into the kitchen, leaning down to scoop up three-month-old Vincent in his arms. "Hello, little man. He's awake early."

"He is," you agree, carefully putting the pan into the preheated oven. "He's being so good this morning despite waking so early, though. Not a fuss made, just babbling little conversations to himself and his siblings."

"He likes to talk," Verona points out, waving at her baby brother in Michael's arms.

Vincent aimlessly stares at Michael, sticking out his little tongue before bumping his head against Michael's temple lightly. "Aa...."

"But how old will Vincent be when he can talk to us, Daddy?" Niccolo asks, sitting upright.

"Almost two years old, I'd say," Michael replies, rubbing Vincent's back in lazy circles gently.

"What?!" Verona gasps.

"Two years?!" Niccolo lets out a deep sigh, "That's gonna take forever!"

"Well, what did you think, honey?" You let out a laugh, setting out jars of homemade grape, strawberry, and raspberry jam from the cabinet.

"Sooner?" Niccolo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, "Maybe it takes one year!"

"Far too soon," Michael shakes his head as you take out three little bowls to put equal varieties of jam in. "Even the two of you weren't talking in a year. Just a few words here and there."

"Really?" Verona's eyes widen with intrigue.

"Really," you smile back at her, "and you both will get to see Vincent grow up right in front of your eyes so you'll understand."

Niccolo looks up to see baby Vincent clutching his tiny grip over the fabric of Michael's waistcoat, distracted by the texture against his skin.

You set out the selections of jam over the dining table, moving back to the stove. "If it's one thing you all share like your baby brother, it's that none of you could stop grabbing and touching daddy's tie or clothes."

"But Daddy wears Italian silk suits, right?" Verona speaks up.

"That I do," Michael answers, walking towards the back door with Vincent to get some fresh air; amused by Vincent's distraction towards his waistcoat.

"So it's very soft!" Verona exclaims.

"Oh, ya," Niccolo adds, "and very fancy."

"Very," you laugh with them, "Vincent is the master of fancy fabrics."

“He knows he likes his suits,” Michael cracks a rare joke, carefully stepping out into the courtyard as Vincent excitedly rattles his toy in his free hand.

You move the mixing bowl containing ricotta pancake batter over to the stove, adding a small amount to the hot pan and watching it spread into shape. “Almost ready for breakfast!”

“Can I help, mama?” Verona hops off her seat.

“Sure, darling,” you gesture to one of the kitchen cupboards. “We have some biscotti in there. Could you please take some out and set them out on the plate here? We can have some with jam this morning.”

“Okay!” Verona nods, doing as she’s told. “Tasty jam. I help Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you smile down at her, glancing up momentarily to see Michael slowly pacing around the courtyard with Vincent in his arms.

Vincent snuggles onto his father’s shoulder, chewing on his rattle toy while peeking around the sight of nature around him.

“We’re almost done here…” Distracted, you flip the pancake over carefully and keep the sizes of the others at a consistent size and thickness.

You glance at the other pan of food still steaming hot on the other side of the stove—Italian sausage and eggs—taking note of everything to get ready.

“Smells so good, mama,” Niccolo looks over to the stove giddily, eyeing the homemade marinara sauce smothered amid the Italian sausage and poached eggs. “My favorite!” 

“A favorite of daddy’s too,” you add, beginning to set the silverware and plates out on the dining table.

Niccolo gets up from his seat, helping his sister reach into the cupboard and taking as many cups as he can with him towards the dining table to help out.

“Perfect, thank you two,” you rub Niccolo and Verona’s shoulders—looking towards the backdoor. “I’ll get Daddy and Vincent in otherwise they’ll be out there forever.”

The twins giggle amongst each other as you step out into the courtyard, taking in a breath of the fresh spring air to see your husband walking around the center of the backyard and kissing Vincent’s cheek.

“Hi, baby,” unable to wipe the growing smile off of your face, you approach both of them.

“Hello, darling,” Michael turns around to face you as you lean up, pecking a sweet kiss over your husband’s lips. 

Michael kisses back, gazing at you. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Mhmm, it is,” you gently squish Vincent’s chubby cheek, gesturing for them to follow inside. “Everything’s ready and we’re waiting for you two to come join us! I wonder if this little man is hungry.”

“I think so, considering how he’s been chewing on every toy I give him,” Michael chuckles quietly, taking your hand with his free one before following you back inside the estate.

~ 

Sitting by herself in her family estate across a small distance from yours, Sandra rests her cheek upon her fist and gives out a glum sigh to herself. The day has practically just started; just the morning after you, Michael, and Sonny’s arrival back home from Las Vegas.

Naturally, Sandra understands how exhausted her husband may be from travel. Sonny’s always felt worn out one way or another with long road trips and plane rides, regardless of how far or close his destination is.

Jet lag has never done any good for Sonny who prefers to rest it off by sleeping in much more than he may normally do when given the chance instead of taking naps throughout the day, and a shot or two of whiskey here and there never hurt to keep his mind sharp throughout it.

No different than any other time, Sonny slumped into bed last night tired and with a pounding headache. The only thing he did before falling asleep just a moment after taking a shot of whiskey and mumbling, “I’m exhausted,” to Sandra.

When it comes to Sonny, Sandra’s more than aware that’s her husband’s normal behavior hence why she didn’t question it.

Come to think of it with Sandra’s mind on nothing else but what a lonely morning she woke up to, she’s come to realize Sonny was rather dismissive and even a little cold towards her.

Still, knowing how much of a grumpy, sarcastic mood Sonny can get in when he’s tired and hungry, Sandra lets it be as it is.

She neither minds waking up alone nor having Sonny sleep in especially after travel, but having the children go off to the governess first thing in the morning and have breakfast by herself after being alone for a few days, the loneliness and lack of companionship hits Sandra hard.

It was after Sandra finished breakfast and began cleaning up that Sonny woke up abruptly and couldn’t fall back asleep.

Instead of letting Sandra know or greeting his wife, Sonny took a hot shower which Sandra overheard then fixed himself a drink of gin and tonic for breakfast which came off as somewhat odd to Sandra.

Sandra’s already guessing something is up with Sonny since it seems as if he’s practically avoiding her but she can’t make any sense of it.

Rising from her seat on the couch, Sandra frowns and looks around the quiet, empty house—wishing she could at least spend some time with Sonny and ask him how his trip went. After all, Sandra knows everyone else is spending time with their families and enjoying breakfast together right now except her.

Feeling left out and alone, suspicion slowly begins to grow over Sandra who begins to approach Sonny’s study, knowing he’s in there from the ruffling sound of newspapers and Sonny setting down his drink.

From the ajar door, Sandra sees her husband sitting over a leather armchair with his ankle crossed over and resting on his leg—reading through a newspaper.

“Sonny?” Sandra places her hand over the door, peeking in with concern over her expression.

Sonny purposefully takes a few extra seconds to react, looking up at Sandra with boredom and slight irritation. “Huh? Yeah, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you,” Sandra replies, frowning. “You missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sonny grunts, stretching out his arms. “I was tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I had something to eat already,” Sonny says, returning his attention back to the newspaper in his hands.

Sandra remains quiet, standing by the door for a moment; she knows Sonny has nothing else to say to her nor does he even want to carry a conversation with Sandra right now, but she can’t understand why Sonny’s acting the way he is now.

“What?” Sonny asks after a moment, growing more tense.

“Nothing,” Sandra murmurs, turning around and shutting the office door behind her.

Heading into the foyer, Sandra puts her Mary-Janes on and exits the estate. She makes her way to what used to be Fredo and Deanna’s shared estate, now belonging to Connie and Leo.

Knowing the only one she can confide in over her brother’s behavior that isn’t spending time with family or is occupied this morning is Connie, Sandra hopes to herself that her sister-in-law can ease her overthinking and offer some advice.

If it’s anyone who knows Sonny and his antics well and on a much different level than a brother would, it’s Sonny’s own sister—Connie. Besides, Sandra doesn’t at all feel up to bothering anyone else like you or Theresa whose shy, reserved, and put off by Sonny’s behavior to begin with.

Deanna on the other hand is in Hollywood shooting a film with Johnny Fontane, but her relationship with Sonny is just as limited as Theresa’s.

‘Then again..’ Sandra glances over in the direction of your estate. ‘There’s Victoria.’

Immediately, Sandra’s mind goes back to the events of what occurred in New York whether she wants to remember it or not; seeing Sonny with blood gushing out of his nose, swelling, and puffiness reaching his eyes all bleeding and bruised when Michael confronted him about why he made a move on you.

Like the others, Sandra was also under the impression Sonny went to New York to check on you and the twins. Everyone assumed Sonny would also bring news to Tom or Michael, but only those two and Sonny knew what was really going on and why you left for New York in the first place.

Sonny never told Sandra why you were in New York to begin with as everyone knew how personal the reason was and would prefer to forget it all entirely.

While Sandra doesn’t know the whole story of the whys and hows of New York, she does know that Michael refused to speak with Sonny for an entire month let alone have him remotely near you because Sonny kissed you and attempted to seduce you in New York.

Sandra unfortunately knows she’ll never not be jealous when thinking of everything that happened, but it’s toned down over time and her emotions don’t get as strong over remembering it either.

Sandra also knows you didn’t kiss Sonny back or pull a move on him. She figures as she’s heard from you and your reaction that you must’ve been nothing but shocked and disgusted; Sonny’s your brother-in-law after all and you would never do that to Sandra, let alone ever to Michael.

At that point, time was the only remedy for everything that had happened. You felt somewhat alienated from Sonny as a result for a little while and Sandra witnessed that herself.

Still, despite apologizing to you and hearing your side of the story, Sandra can never truly live down her guilt and shame of how she embarrassed herself by talking down to you at your mother’s funeral.

Sandra swallows her remaining, stinging jealousy down but not her pride. She doesn’t want to talk to you at all regarding Sonny; it’ll do nothing but rouse her imagination the wrong way about her husband.

Instead, Sandra continues to go up to Sandra’s estate with the hopes that her sister-in-law can offer her advice and lift her spirits or at the very least that Connie can tell her anything she knows about the trip to Las Vegas.

Of course, Sandra plans to speak with you later in the afternoon and hear more about how you are and how the trip went, but Sandra’s concern right now doesn’t have anything to do with the actual traveling or Las Vegas; Sandra’s only concern is Santino.

~

It’s not unusual for the gateways, doors, and balconies of individual estates on the Lake Tahoe compound to be left open during the day although high security is guaranteed twenty-four hours a day throughout the entire week. 

It only signifies that your family isn’t busy, away from the compound, or seeking privacy, and is welcome to anyone popping by, hence why Connie’s estate door is left wide open this morning. 

Sandra also knows Leo is currently away in New York at the moment, traveling back and forth from the state to Nevada with and for Connie when time and business permits. 

From the moment Sandra enters Connie’s estate, Connie and Mama Corleone in the kitchen already pick up on the sound of someone’s kitten heels clacking against the mahogany floorboards and she guesses it’s either Sandra or Theresa purely based on shoe choice. 

In the kitchen, Connie prepares a pot of black tea, chatting away with Carmela about her next planned trip to New York with Leonardo just as Sandra enters the kitchen—smiling sheepishly and hugging her own arms. 

“Hi, honey,” Mama Corleone’s eyes light up at the sight of Sandra.   

“Hey, Sandra,” Connie greets, turning to face her sister-in-law. “Good morning.” 

“Morning,” Sandra says back, glancing around the kitchen uneasily. “Done breakfast so soon?” 

“Oh, we just finished up a few moments ago. Did you?” Mama Corleone peeks at her. 

“Mm,” Sandra nods, “I had a short one. I just sent off the kids to their studies and that’s that,” she lets out a soft sigh, realizing that if she remains here and talks like this that it invites Mama Corleone to stay and listen too. 

Naturally, Sandra has no issue with Mama Corleone consoling her or giving her advice but at this point, Sandra’s far too embarrassed to talk to her mother-in-law about Sonny again and again. 

“Actually, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Connie?” 

“Of course,” Connie agrees, exchanging a glance with Mama Corleone. 

“I’ll see you girls at lunch then,” completely understanding, Carmela smiles at her girls before she begins to make her way out of the kitchen. “Take care!” 

“Bye mama,” Sandra calls back out before facing Connie once more and seeing the concern growing over her sister-in-law’s face. 

“There’s that look in your eyes again,” Connie points out, taking out another tea cup. “Let me get you something to drink first, honey. Go on, have a seat. I already know.” 

“Thank you,” Sandra murmurs, closing the kitchen door behind her before taking a seat at the dining table. 

Connie pours two cups of steaming, black tea and takes a tiny bowl holding sugar cubes and small stirring spoons over to the dining table, sitting across from her sister-in-law. “I could tell just by the way you walked in here that something had to be wrong.” 

“I wish I could prove you wrong,” Sandra says glumly, “never been the greatest at hiding my annoyances, have I? Thank you,” Sandra pulls her teacup over the table to herself with two sugar cubes. 

“You and me both,” Connie chuckles, letting out a deep breath. “What is it? What’s troubling you? Go on, I want all the details.” 

“I didn’t wanna make it a big deal because I don’t know what’s going on,” Sandra begins, staring at her tea. 

“You always say that,” Connie points out, raising her brows. 

“I know,” Sandra whines quietly. “But it’s Sonny.” 

“What about him? Or do I even need to ask?” Connie rolls her eyes, “what’s he gone off to do this time?” 

Sandra blinks, unable to come up with an immediate response. “It’s his trip. Sonny came back from Vegas with Michael and Victoria…” 

“Mhmm,” Connie nods, listening. 

“He was exhausted when he got home, so he wanted to go to bed right away which is fine—” Sandra shakes her head, “he had a drink before, didn’t talk to me or the children whatsoever, and just went straight to bed.” 

“Huh,” Connie notes, “exhausted, then?” 

“Yeah, he was,” Sandra answers. 

“I didn’t see him as ‘exhausted’,” Connie stares back at her. “That’s a bit of an overstatement now isn’t it?” 

“You saw him last night?” Sandra raises a brow, knowing all Sonny did was barge right into the estate the minute he grabbed his luggage from the car and wasted no time in doing so. 

“Yeah, Sonny barged in here all annoyed and asking for whiskey. I’d say he was more grouchy than ‘exhausted’. He definitely had more than enough energy to march in here like that.” 

“That’s not what I saw or heard,” anxiety begins to spike up in Sandra. “I mean… Sonny told me he was tired and going to bed—I didn’t get another word out of him after that. He finished his drink and went to sleep—whatever. Slept in for two more hours this morning and it’s like he missed breakfast on purpose because I swear to you, just as I finished cleaning up and sent off the kids to the governess, he awoke. Sonny didn’t say a word to me, didn’t come in to eat anything. He just made himself a gin and tonic—I don’t get it. He’s being so cold to me, this isn’t normal. He’s completely disinterested in anything I have to say. It’s like every time I try to approach him, I annoy him.” 

Connie takes a sip of her tea, pursing her lips. “Victoria didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what, Connie?” The tip of Sandra’s ears and the nape of her neck prickle hot with brimming anxiety. “I haven’t spoken to her since before she left. I thought I would after lunch today.” 

“I saw Victoria briefly before she went in last night,” Connie tells her, “just made some small talk—asked her how the trip went and if she needed anything because if anyone was exhausted, it was her. I may as well tell you,” Connie shrugs her shoulders, “though I’m not sure if it’ll surprise you or be something you haven’t heard before.” 

“Why?” Sandra’s throat tightens as she mixes her sugar cubes inside her tea. 

“I mean, they went to Las Vegas, Sandra,” Connie licks over her lips, “Sonny wasn’t exactly there for ‘business’.” 

“I see,” Sandra mumbles to herself, looking far more distraught than Connie expects. 

“Okay, you let him off the hook too much, honey,” Connie sighs, shaking her head. “He just goes left, right, and center and he’s been doing that since we were teenagers. Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it.” 

“I never really let him do ‘anything’,” Sandra rakes a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky sigh. “Sonny can barely control himself. It’s how he is, how he always was. You know our marriage didn’t change him and neither did having kids. His dick has a mind of its own.” 

“Yeugh,” Connie fake gags, brushing off the comment. “I know, trust me.” 

“But what does Victoria have to do with this?” Sandra holds back the growing emotion in the back of her throat. 

“It’s not that, Sandra, relax,” Connie lets out a soft laugh, “relax! She’s just as mad as you, honestly. Victoria was scolding Sonny the whole trip. She won’t talk to him, she said. He must have pissed her off real good this time.” 

“Because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself?” Sandra suggests. 

“When it comes to Rita Duvall, definitely,” Connie rolls her eyes with a scoff. 

“Rita,” Sandra repeats. “Rita? Are you serious?” 

“Mhmm,” Connie appears somewhat amused towards Sandra’s irritated reaction upon the mention of Rita Duvall’s name. “Now that’s two negative reactions whenever that woman’s name is mentioned. I guess you know a bit about our favorite dancer and mistress extraordinaire outside Victoria’s personal grudge towards her?” 

“Do I?” Sandra scowls, “I’ve had my fair share of tugging Sonny’s ear about that whore.” 

“Yeah?” 

Sandra takes in a deep breath, only growing much more irate. “She’s a good-for-nothing whore. Everything she does is for attention and on purpose. She and Sonny—they… The fucking chemistry they have—” Sandra’s eyes begin to tear up as her voice shakes. “How could I not fucking hate her? I can’t stand her or her whorish antics, tricks, and shows—whatever the hell she does. She’s nothing but eye candy, a pleaser and Sonny loves it. She’s exactly what he wants, you know?” 

“Sandra—” 

“Sonny won’t fuck an honest woman the way he loves to fuck his whores,” Sandra’s eyes pool with tears, “She’d look me in the eye and do my husband if she could, but that’s not exclusive, right? It’s not that hard to have Sonny head over heels for you, it’s just impossible for me and I’m his wife. It wasn’t impossible for Victoria.” 

“Hey,” Connie interrupts sharply, placing her hands over the top of Sandra’s. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s alright. No, I get what you mean completely but Victoria doesn’t have Sonny wrapped around her finger. Don’t say that.” 

“H-how am I supposed to know?” Sandra breaks down in tears, weeping. “Everyone can have my husband but me! So I don’t have a choice, Connie. I have to suspect everyone and I hate her. I hate Rita and I hate anyone like her!” 

~ 

[ 6 Months Earlier: Las Vegas, Nevada ]

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome the night of your life where filthy sin and heavenly lust collide; where lines of love and arousal blur to please you! This is a night to remember and accept splendor and entertainment with the one and only, Miss Rita Duvall!” 

The glistening silver curtains encrusted in crystals flutter about over the stage, reflecting over the polished, white marble stage to reveal Rita behind—slowly spinning in a life-size bird cage made of solid gold, decorated in the same dazzling crystals and diamonds. 

Wearing silk, red gloves with diamonds adorning her fingers, Rita’s strawberry blonde hair is curled over her shoulders—bringing attention to the sparkling ruby necklace upon her collarbone, the smokey makeup over her eyes, and cherry red lipstick matching the fiery, scarlet shade of red she wears in a sleeveless bodysuit decorated with the same precious gems and rubies. 

Much like a Vegas showgirl’s classic bodysuit, Rita stands out as the star of the show with a mock peacock tail affixed to the back of her costume; real feathers dipped in crimson dye with matching six-inch stilettos over her feet. 

Background dancers dressed similarly to Rita but without distracting away from having her become the center of attention and swirl about the stage, dancing, and grouping together to slide and push the birdcage towards the middle of the stage. 

Gasps from the crowd mesmerized in awe come from around the room, erupting in cheer and applause which Sonny joins; seated in the second row at the very front of the stage with Michael and Leonardo. 

Close enough to practically smell Rita’s perfume, Sonny’s eyes are fixated on her as Rita blows out kisses to the crowd, swaying her hips over the cushioned seat inside the life-size birdcage. 

Michael ignores anything and everything to do with the show entirely, effectively blocking it out while focusing on his dinner and keeping an eye on the time to anticipate when all of this nonsense will be over and his business partner will come to meet him. 

Amongst all of their family, colleagues, and business partners, Michael and Leonardo remain to be the odd ones out with no interest in erotic shows, brothels, or mistresses for their own reasons; Michael’s being quite self-explanatory knowing him. 

Leonardo on the other hand has always been indifferent to it; it’s not so much that he minds such entertainment and opportunities, but he chooses to have nothing to do with them. 

In the middle of a show like this where it’s hard to ignore what’s going on—let alone the performers themselves—Leonardo can appreciate that it’s a form of entertainment enjoyed by many, and that’s all he’ll take it as without making it personal. 

While Michael can hide his dislike and annoyance for anything without effort, Leonardo can’t hold back from having his expression show exactly how he feels. Since Leonardo initiated a relationship with Connie—now his fiancé—he feels all the more disinterested and uncomfortable. 

Performers, dancers, prostitutes, and showgirls like Rita and Rita herself are a hot commodity amongst rich businessmen, politicians, and influential men seeking entertainment and companionship so there’s never a gap in bookings and demand. 

‘It’s not her entertainment skills or whoring that’s her “talent” either. She’s ‘talented’, alright, but in ways you wouldn’t imagine.’ 

Aroused by how little he’s seen already, Sonny eyes Rita’s plump thighs—admiring how the color red matches her vigor and passion on stage. 

Rita grinds her hips, dancing sensually around the bars of the birdcage slowly to show off every inch of her body. 

‘There’s a million Rita Duvalls. Give any cocktail waitress or Vegas showgirl a big enough gig and she’ll do what she does best, but Rita wants more. Nothing is ever enough for her.’ 

Sonny whistles under his breath, momentarily capturing Michael’s attention who looks up at the stage for only a split second to see Rita look in their direction and lick up one of the bars. 

Unphased, Michael immediately looks away once more with zero intention of even glancing up for a moment to the stage again whereas Sonny can hardly hold back his throbbing erection. 

‘I don’t know if she has issues of her own or if she’s a narcissist who gets high off all the attention, but Rita wouldn’t look anyone in the eye who can’t give her what she wants. She can only entertain for so long until she catches the eye of somebody who finds her the most irresistible of the night.’ 

Michael is no stranger to such forms of entertainment. Half the time Michael travels for business or is meeting with his business partners at any time, some sort of similar entertainment is almost always provided. 

Usually, however, the nature of the entertainment isn’t solely erotic or anything like this, let alone with a face Michael recognizes. 

Michael’s aware tonight’s show harbors on pure erotica, but later on in the evening, he’s also bound to discover it’s a sex show later on. 

Sonny wouldn’t miss this level of entertainment for the world, always preferring to mix pleasure with business and never considering himself as dull as his younger brother. 

Michael can and will purposefully miss any shows of obscenity and promiscuity. Nothing gets to him not just because Michael’s interest in such entertainment is low, but rather that it’s nonexistent. 

Michael’s business colleagues would die in the face of boredom if they did business the way Michael did; long meetings face-to-face in silence for hours with nothing but relevant talk. 

‘Rita has the first pick of the best venues. Rita won’t perform somewhere she knows money won’t roll in. Businessmen, investors, politicians—think of the wealthiest, most influential men. That’s why she’s there.’ 

Pleasure in business is seen as a casual thing by most mafiosi; some even talk business at brothels rather than anywhere else. 

None of it particularly bothers Michael to a personal extent, but he can certainly count on his fingers how many mafiosi he knows that don’t indulge in such entertainment: himself, Vito—his father—and Leonardo, his brother-in-law. 

‘Rita knows her audience. Married, usually middle-aged men with a wife and kids at home… Talking about what an honest woman can’t give him.’ 

Rita is all flair and style—what she’s known for better than anyone else in Las Vegas. Using all of her stage props and background effects to dance and sing at the same time, she puts on a show to remember for tonight. 

Interacting with the crowd is just another act Rita intends on doing tonight, something that immediately spiked your dislike for her when Rita first tried it with Michael at a family event with children present; despite being an adult performer, Rita knew what she signed up for and willingly crossed those boundaries after all. 

‘She’s far from being honest and she knows it. She uses these men for arm candy, influence, reputation, and above all—sex and money. They make for the best kind of blackmail. She’s made that obvious enough.’ 

Rita doesn’t have any boundaries and she doesn’t feel the need to either. Rita offers what she does and has a “take it or leave it policy”, asking if everyone else loves it, why don’t you? 

Michael checks the time on his watch again as Rita parts away from the birdcage and begins to dance to the tune of a sultry, slow sogn upon the stage; making sure the feathers on her bodysuit bounce and shake with every move. 

It’s then and there that Michael notices just how absolutely fixated Sonny is on Rita, mindlessly staring at her. 

Michael doesn’t need to look up to Rita to see why, but his brother’s blatant arousal and unprofessionalism are beginning to irritate Michael; all Sonny’s been doing the entirety of the trip is paying attention to nothing but women. “Let me know when you decide to attend business for business one of these days.” 

“Relax, Mikey,” Sonny chuckles, looking away from Rita for the first time since the show started. “I’m enjoying the show, she’s performing, I don’t wanna let it go to waste. I don’t get you two.” 

Leonardo looks up from his plate, biting into a piece of steak. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, never mind, I guess,” Sonny grins, “I’m not saying anything towards you. You’re engaged to my sister.” 

‘She’s no performer, dancer, entertainer, or whatever the fuck she calls herself. We all know what she is. I wasn’t born yesterday. Rita’s a blackmailing whore.’ 

Eyeing Sonny from the table as she performs, Sonny’s lustful and interested gaze on her hasn’t gone unnoticed with all that admiring. 

It helps all the more that Sonny’s seated so close to the stage and with Michael Corleone whom Rita knows is impossible to get a shred of attention or interest from but Rita’s satisfied with luring in one Corleone brother before she aspires to go back to back with another. 

The only positive purpose doing business in such venues, clubs, and brothels serves most mafiosi besides personal pleasure is the fact that if there’s unwanted or hostile presence of police and FBI not on a mafioso’s payroll, it’s much easier to be able to appear as a couple of businessmen chatting and having drinks while enjoying a show than appearing suspicious. 

None can hear nor suspect any illicit business is being discussed or ongoing from music, singing, and distractions after all. 

Michael still refuses to pay any attention to Rita’s show during her second act even when his business partners arrive; consisting of her emerging from an amethyst and diamond-studded, lifesize clam large enough to comfortably fit three people in. 

Completely and utterly in awe as if he’s in a trance, Sonny and the rest of the invited businessmen are thoroughly entertained and their enjoyment and need for entertainment is just a necessary, lesser evil Michael comes to accept. 

If such needs to occur for business to come along smoothly without issue, then Michael has no issues with it although he finds it all negatively distracting. 

Slow jazz music builds up to its climax as Rita fully emerges from the clamshell, causing business discussions at the table to be briefly interrupted as a result. 

Leonardo and Michael look over to see Rita no longer dressed in her peacock-inspired bodysuit but only in a pair of bra and panties made from a lightweight chain and decorated in pearls and diamonds. 

Rita extends out her arms to the tune of the jazz music, throwing her hair back and stepping out the clam barefoot. 

Just as Michael’s about to divert his gaze once more and remind his business partners what the task at hand is, Rita places her hand over her bra and pulls it off with ease—causing the pearls and diamonds to spring loose and around her on the stage. 

‘She’ll curl up in the arms of any rich, powerful man who can give her a night to remember, spoil her and pay for the new diamonds you see on her ears.’ 

More hoots, whistling and cheers can be heard from the crowd and from Sonny himself as Rita remains completely topless; her breasts springing free as she pulls the matching panties down her legs—bending over. 

“Goddamn,” Sonny chuckles to himself, taking in the view. 

Michael sighs quietly to himself, understanding this is now a full-on sex show rather than the other forms of performances and entertainment he’s had the misery of having to attend yet he isn’t surprised. 

‘When she doesn’t want to let go of her arm candy, she’ll just resort to blackmail. Easy to do to politicians who can’t keep their eyes or hands to themselves, to begin with. It’ll give her the big payday she’s looking for and everyone moves on. She craves it just as much she craves the attention.’ 

Michael lights another cigarette, figuring whenever Rita’s done with her jaw-dropping antics, everyone can get back to business even if that means it looks like Michael will have to wait longer. 

Rita’s third and final act of the night consists of the curtains drawing back once more to reveal her sitting naked inside a massive, human-sized cocktail glass that matches the gems of the clam from her second act. 

Rita lets the pink-colored water inside the cocktail glass soak over her skin as Rita rests her arms on the rim of the cocktail glass. 

Rita then raises up her thigh, letting the pink water drip off as she begins to massage and caress the liquid over her body. 

‘She’ll never have to worry about blackmailing Sonny… If she was to, that would mean he’d want to stay away from her for good, right? Right?’ 

[ Present Day, Lake Tahoe Compound ]

Connie frowns, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stares at Sandra. 

“Say something, please,” Sandra croaks—her throat tightening. 

“Sandra, I’m so, so sorry—Sandra! Sandra!” Connie gasps as Sandra bolts from the dining table, almost spilling her tea. 

“SONNY! SONNY!” Sandra shrieks, storming out of Connie and Leo’s estate. 

“Sandra, wait! Oh my God!” Connie jumps up from her seat, rushing after her sister-in-law. “Sandra, no!” 

All Connie can think of is that while Sandra’s emotions, reactions, and outbursts are completely normal and to be expected, she’s guaranteed Vito and Carmela’s involvement in this now by shouting it for everyone to hear on the compound. 

~ 

Back in your estate shortly after finishing up breakfast with your family, you hold baby Vincent in your arms—indulging in conversation with the nanny, Esther as the twins begin their morning lessons with the governess. 

“Oh, it’s definitely been a while,” you chuckle. “My family visits Sicily regularly, but that’s a given for all the business they do. I think I had more than enough opportunity after we moved to New York, but my studies and work always got in the way.” 

“Would that mean you haven’t been there for five years now? Oh my,” Esther’s eyes widen. 

“Mhmm,” you admit sheepishly, kissing Vincent’s cheek. “Not since the twins were just little babies. Funny enough we’ve been to Rome, Venice, and Florence since but not back to the homeland since. That’ll change very soon.” 

“Looking forward to a good trip for you and the family then, Mrs. Corleone,” Esther beams, “all that time gone by still surprises me. The twins were so tiny, just like this little guy!” 

Before she can say anymore, Esther glances over her shoulder to see Michael stepping out of the estate to approach you; the morning sun glistening over his skin as he keeps both hands in his pockets. 

Understanding the need for privacy, Esther gives both of you a polite smile and a small nod before entering back into the estate to leave you two alone. 

“Hello, darling,” Michael greets you by wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Hi, baby,” you blush, “I’m thinking we could spend the rest of our morning out on the yacht together maybe with a cold drink and—” 

“SANTINO! SANTINO!” You’re interrupted by the alarming sound of Sandra shrieking around the compound. 

Michael and you exchange a concerned look with one another before rushing out to the front of the estate where Sandra’s continuous scream-sobbing is coming from. 

Sonny’s the first to his wife wailing, throwing down his newspaper and springing out of his seat from surprise. 

“Sandra?!” You call out as Michael keeps a protective arm around you. “Oh—Connie!” You spot your sister-in-law running over, distraught and confused. “Connie! What’s going on—” 

Connie stops in her tracks to see Sandra rush out from behind her estate to inside, only gone for a split second before the three of you watch her screaming insults and curse words in a mix of English and Italian before shoving Sonny outside. 

“Fucking stop! Stop it, alright?!” Sonny grunts, stumbling out of the estate. “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

“GET OUT, GET OUT!” Sandra screams, pointing away from the compound. “GET THE FUCK OUT!” 

“Lower your fucking voice!” Sonny shouts over top over her, brushing off his wrinkled tank top. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Huh?!” 

Before you can say anything, Michael—who remains completely calm next to you—raises his free hand up to silence you, giving you a reassuring look but also signaling he won’t give involved in the middle of this and doesn’t want you to either. 

Sobbing and practically shaking, Sandra opens her mouth again to cry out but is immediately silenced by Sonny. “What the fuck are you yelling for, woman?! What’s wrong with you?!” 

“What’s going on?” Michael interrupts, speaking up. 

The three of you including Connie begin to slowly approach as you also notice Tom and Theresa slowly doing so from their estate after hearing everything. 

With security and guards on alert, Al Neri and Rocco slowly begin to make their way over whereas Esther rushes into the central family compound to ensure the children don’t hear or step out, but it’s only going to be a matter of time until Vito and Carmela do. 

Vincent stares around aimlessly, confused by all the yelling and overlapping loud voices around him but seemingly disinterested and unaffected by it as he plays with a few strands of your hair. 

“Even if your father’s life depended on it, you wouldn’t be able to stop fucking whoring!” Sandra shrieks, “every time you go ‘on business’ all you do is whore around! That’s all you’ve been doing for years, isn’t it?! Go ahead, tell everyone, Sonny! And remind Michael and Victoria too!” 

Connie remains silent, biting her lip. All of this hits too close to home, reminding her of how many times she was in Sandra’s place herself when she was still married to Carlo. 

Connie didn’t want anyone silencing what she had to say to Carlo then, so she refuses to attempt to silence Sandra now. 

“You—” Sonny begins, but Sandra cuts him off. 

“Don’t you want everyone to know what you did in Las Vegas?! Go ahead and tell the children while we’re at it!” 

“Sandra,” Michael speaks calmly, shaking his head. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Sandra hiccups, facing Michael as Sonny sighs loudly. “It's true when we first got married—” Sandra points an accusing finger at Sonny. “And true before! But Michael, you’re not going to lie to me, are you? What did Sonny do in Vegas? I want you to tell me.” 

“My brother is an adult capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself,” Michael replies, “I’m not his babysitter. We had business in Las Vegas, yes, but what Sonny did before, during, and after is not my concern nor do I or Victoria witness it.” 

“Thank you!” Sonny scoffs, beginning to turn away before Sandra yanks on his arm and pulls him back. 

“I don’t fucking think so!” Sandra scowls. “I’ll decide that and you’re NOT going to walk away from me, Santino! You can barely control yourself as is and I’ve had ENOUGH!” 

“YOU HEARD HIM!” Sonny yells back, pointing at Michael. 

“Sonny, don’t yell!” Connie frowns, growing uneasy. 

Sonny’s eyes soften momentarily as he looks over at his sister. “I was only there for business.” 

“Victoria,” Sandra narrows her eyes at you. “What did you see? Tell me.” 

You snuggle Vincent to your chest, sighing softly. “Sandra, this isn’t—” 

“Oh no, no.” Sandra glares at you, “you’re not going to tell me how to react, right? If your husband was known to whore around for years, would you really remain quiet? That passive?” 

“Stop,” you stare back at her, unamused. “That’s not what this is.” 

“THEN TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” Sandra screams, causing Connie to flinch. 

“Lower your voice when you speak to Victoria,” Michael warns, hearing the faint footsteps of Vito and Carmela beginning to step out from the central family compound. 

“Tell me, tell me! TELL ME!” Sandra sobs, hiccupping. 

Sonny shakes his head, locking eyes with you; his expression still somewhat hurt from your last encounter with him in Las Vegas.   

“All of New York knows the truth but not me, his own wife!” Sandra points to her chest, “I deserve to know the truth! Tell me!” 

“You do,” Michael agrees, somewhat calming Sandra. “Yes, you do.” 

“Constanzia,” Carmela calls out gently, approaching her and gesturing her away. “Come here, sweetheart. Come, let’s go.” 

You stay put, watching as Vito approaches with a grave look of disappointment on his face—watching his daughter-in-law weep. 

“Papa,” Sandra hiccups, shaking her head. “What have I done? What did I do? Was I a bad wife to deserve this?” 

Sonny bites his lip, embarrassed in the presence of his father and barely able to look Vito in the eye. 

“No, you were not,” Vito answers, scowling at his son. “And Santino does not think so either, does he?” 

“Pop—” 

“Silence!” Vito interrupts. “You’ve caused our family enough embarrassment, you make your wife cry and you speak back to me? Have you no shame, Santino? You treat the mother of your children—your life partner—this way with such disrespect in front of your family?” Vito shakes a scolding finger at Sonny. “I will speak to you alone, Santino, so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the family any longer, but you owe answers and apologies to your wife.” 

“I want to hear it from Michael,” Sandra sniffles. 

Vito looks over at the both of you, noticing the frowns on your faces. 

“Him or Victoria,” Sandra hiccups again, “they were both in Las Vegas with Sonny. They know. Victoria, tell Papa.” 

You nod, refusing to hold back for Sonny’s sake. “Papa, I didn’t see or hear anything—that’s the truth—but Sonny told me himself he went to spend time with a woman.” 

“Rita, right?” Sandra attempts to catch her breath. 

Michael raises a brow, seriously beginning to wonder how everyone knows Rita Duvall in this family. 

“Aaaaaa…” Vincent snuggles your chest, surprising you by how calm he remains throughout so much shouting being exchanged. 

“Rita, seriously?” Michael stares at Sonny, no longer able to hold back his own disappointment. 

 You press your lips down together, remaining silent and attempting to appear indifferent to the name mentioned. If Sandra knows of Rita, then she already knows about everything else and if her pain lies with Sonny’s affair with Rita, then you can only think of Sandra who’d be happy to hear someone put Rita Duvall out of her misery a few days ago.

The conversation changing to speak of a woman whom you killed recently is no doubt an interesting one between family.

“Jesus,” Sonny sighs, looking away in defeat. 

“Go inside, I’ll speak with you separately,” Vito gestures Sonny away. “Everyone, please give them some privacy. Let us all return to what we were doing, your mother and I will deal with this.” 

Michael gives Sonny one last look before gently leading you away and back towards your estate. “Come on, darling.” 

“YOU WERE WHORING AROUND IN VEGAS WHILE I WAS WAITING FOR YOU AND TAKING CARE OF OUR FAMILY!” Is the last thing you hear Sandra scream to Sonny right then and there before you and Michael enter your estate. 

~

With every step you take until you and Michael are back into the estate with the door shut, you can hear Sandra’s sobbing, Sonny’s disgruntled comments, and Vito’s scolding. 

“C’mon, c’mon, go inside. Get inside, and we’ll talk. Come on, that’s enough. Stop crying.”

“Aa!” Vincent squirms in your arms, only now beginning to grow restless.

“Ah, I’m right here. Right here,” you gently bop the tip of Vincent’s little nose, “hi, baby. Hiiii, look at Mama.”

“Gaaaaahhhh…” Vincent blinks in confusion, beginning to calm down as you give both of his cheeks a kiss.

Michael glances out towards the window, knowing Sandra is sobbing and inconsolable whereas Vito feels disrespected and embarrassed on behalf of the family.

“There, there,” you wiggle a piece of your hair to Vincent, noticing his interest immediately grow. “Mama’s hair is that interesting, hmm? I’m flattered. You’ll grab on daddy’s tie too, right?”

Vincent blathers quietly, holding a few strands of your hair in a loose grip as you turn to face Michael who locks the front door, gazing back at you.

“I…” You take in a deep breath, patting Vincent’s back. “It’s past his nap time. I should put him to bed.”

“Very well,” Michael nods, slipping both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We need to talk after.”

Strange, cold tension fills the space between you and Michael momentarily towards the matter with Sandra; a lot to consider on Michael’s behalf whereas memories of New York with Sonny come rushing back to you—leaving a mellow taste in both of your mouths

“I know,” you say back, turning around and approaching the staircase. 

“I want you in my office afterward,” Michael watches as you carefully go up the steps.

“I’m tired, Michael,” you say back; whether it’s of today or what just occurred in front of half of the family, you leave it up to Michael to infer.

“I know. I am too.”

You feel the tension in your body begin to ease up as you make your way upstairs with little Vincent in your arms, already noticing how your son snuggles you in a state of sleepiness.

“Let’s get you all cozy and in your bed,” you whisper softly to Vincent, approaching the nursery. “You’re falling asleep on me already. Oh,” you can’t help but smile at how Vincent’s curled up to your chest, peacefully beginning to doze off.

You carefully set Vincent in his crib, tucking him in and minding what position he’s laying in without waking him.

“I need to learn from you, honestly,” you joke, speaking in a very ushered tone as you watch Vincent sleep. “Just look at you…” You sigh in relief, “growing so fast. Three months have gone like that already… I love you, little guy. Mama loves you so much.” 

You make sure to keep the nursery door open for Esther to check in on Vincent if you’re unable to throughout the day and also to hear any crying.

It’s not that you dread returning downstairs to get to Michael’s office or feel anxious about having a talk with him about all that just occurred with Sandra and Sonny, but rather that you feel so burned out from it all that the last thing you want is to be put in the middle—especially if it means Sandra and Sonny’s marriage will be permanently impacted.

None of this is fair to Sandra, but it’s not fair to you either. Then again, you know more about what happened than you’ll ever let on, and Michael knows this too. 

Back in his office, Michael organizes paperwork over his desk—not so much distracted but waiting for you.

You step into Michael’s office, pulling off your hair tie to let your bun unravel free over your shoulders before smoothening it out. 

You don’t even bother to look up at Michael right away who has his hands in his pockets, walking around his desk to approach you now.

Michael can tell you’re not avoiding looking at him directly out of guilt or anxiety, but that you’re tense and a little shaken up from that dramatic encounter with Sandra and Sonny.

Michael approaches you directly, placing both hands over your arms gently. “Relax, darling. You’re very tense.”

Sighing softly, you look up at your husband and frown.

Michael rubs up and down your arms tenderly, gazing into your eyes with nothing but genuine trust.

“Sandra…” You begin.

“I know,” Michael speaks to you in a soothing, calm voice. “There’s nothing we can do about the matter. It must be left between them.”

“And Papa?”

“Pop is disappointed,” Michael nods grimly. “He’ll have his say”

“I’m glad,” you say with a sigh, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Sandra deserves that much at least.”

Michael and you are more than well aware of how Connie didn’t have that kind of treatment from Vito who outright refused to get involved in her and Connie’s abusive marriage.

“I can presume whatever Santino did was as bad as Sandra claimed,” Michael mentions.

“Yes, it was,” you nod back, “Sonny’s lucky. Even with Pop talking to him who I trust will knock some sense into him, he’s still lucky.”

“Hmm,” Michael embraces you, planting a kiss over the side of your neck. 

“If it was my father…” You grimace, “no. He would be in deep shit. Any of my brothers would.”

“That is to be expected,” Michael agrees. “He came and spoke with me shortly after we settled in.”

You blush, gently pressing your forehead against Michael’s. “Sonny did?”

“Yes,” Michael answers, “he came in bitter, entitled, and demanding answers. All he spoke of was you.”

“Great,” you mumble under your breath. “He doesn’t understand what I did was for his own good.”

“I agree,” Michael says, but in reality, he has no idea exactly what you mean. “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not. I don’t. As Pop said, we can’t afford a scandal on Sonny’s behalf after Fredo. Deanna is in Hollywood and has held nothing back to journalists about Fredo and his promiscuity throughout their marriage.”

“Figures,” you rub your temple gingerly, “it’s the last thing we need after all of this.

“And the baby,” Michael kisses your forehead. “I’m more concerned about you and our family than anything else. I refuse to make Sonny’s behavior our problem.”

“I know, baby,” you nod glumly. “I didn’t want Pop and everyone to hear all of that but it was inevitable.”

“Perhaps it was for the best,” Michael offers. “The rest is up to them personally, however… You never told me you hit Sonny.”

“He deserved it,” you look up into Michael’s eyes. “Then and there, he deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You didn’t expect that though, did you?” You ask.

“I understood why,” Michael replies. “You’re not a bitter and malicious person, Victoria, and you certainly weren’t in Las Vegas.”

“I know how he is,” you say back, practically still able to hear Rita’s whiny voice mocking you over her supposed pregnancy.

“And that brother-in-law of yours? His seed is inside me, so? You know what happens next, don’t you?”

You refuse to mention anything about Rita’s pregnancy to Michael for your own reasons.

“Sonny’s still my brother, and I care about him,” you state. “But he has more to deal with when it comes to his marriage. And as to what I did…” You shake your head, “he just needs to get over it.”

“He will,” Michael takes your hand, leading you towards one of the sofas in the office. “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“I understand, baby,” you sit next to Michael on the leather sofa, curling up to his side. “I just want my little peace and quiet with you and the babies.”

“Is Vincent asleep?” Michael wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “fell asleep right away. Wasted no time.”

“I wish we could have said the same for the twins when they were growing up,” Michael chuckles quietly. 

“Same here,” you giggle back. “At least they did when they were newborns.”

“A different story altogether,” Michael adds. “Mm, how do you feel?”

“About?” You feel his hand rubbing up and down your back gingerly. 

“Everything, or just about.”

“I’m alright,” you smile back at your husband. “And I know things will be better. I’m not going to let the last few days dictate to me how I should keep feeling.”

“I’m prepared to put the world to a stop if I need to for you, Victoria,” Michael’s hands begin to massage up and around your shoulders. “You only gave birth a few months ago. I want you to relax.”

“I’ll catch up eventually,” you relax in Michael’s embrace. “With this little one.”

“We missed having a baby around,” Michael kisses the top of your head. “The twins… They’ve grown up already.”

“Very fast,” the blush over your cheeks deepens as Michael kisses both of your hands. 

“I’m proud of them and you,” Michael whispers against your forehead before kissing it.

“I love you so much,” you blush back.

“I love you too,” Michael gives your hands a soft squeeze. “You’re an amazing mother, I want you to know that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel Michael’s hand beginning to caress down your chest; his movements growing slower and more tender. 

“And an amazing woman,” Michael nuzzles your neck as you find your fingers clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s dress shirt.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head back to feel the warmth of Michael’s lips planting hot kisses over your neck—inhaling in the scent of your floral perfume.

A shiver goes down your spine from arousal as you feel Michael’s nose brush against your skin. “I want to have another child with you…”

“Already,” your breath hitches as you press your body against Michael’s.

“Whenever you feel ready,” Michael’s hands begin to inch up your blouse.

“Considerate,” you tease back—a whimper escaping your lips from Michael’s hands cupping your breasts.

“Your needs come first, baby,” Michael rubs his fingers over your tender nipples—already hardened from arousal. “I can still please you until it’s over.”

You know Michael’s referring to your period which you got in the middle of the night. “Yes, you can…” You writhe in Michael’s lap. “I… I didn’t lock the door.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael begins to inch your blouse up. “I want you here right now.”

“Oh, please,” you buck your hips up in arousal, watching as Michael licks his fingertips and continues massaging your nipples.

“You. Are. Mine.” Michael says between kisses over your breasts. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” your eyes flutter shut as Michael slips your blouse up and off over your head.

From where you both lay on the sofa in Michael’s office, you can see your reflections in a small mirror on the other side of the room; watching the way Michael teases and pleases your body.

“Come here, baby,” Michael’s tongue flickers over your breasts as he massages one and suckles over the other.

You moan loudly, tugging over his hair and feeling his hot tongue over your nipple.

Rolling your eyes back from pleasure, you feel you could cum from this alone—feeling just as horny on your period and willing to take all the alone time you can with Michael, right here and right now.

~

Within the same week, Fredo’s infamous brothel in Las Vegas is officially sold and shut down with the new buyer’s intention to tear the entire building and structure down and build anew.

All is well for the Corleone family who anticipated such for a long time coming; now with no need to worry about the physical reminders of Fredo’s legacy and being involved in the prostitution business by affiliation.

The news of the Corleone family now having no official ties whatsoever to any form of prostitution pleases Don Tattaglia who still seeks to have a monopoly over brothels under his family business; something Michael is more than fine with.

It’s not for another five days until the brothel’s managers realize they aren’t able to contact Rita Duvall in any form—has accounted for all the other women who worked at the brothel to move employment to an unaffiliated, new brothel.  

Rita neither answers her telephone nor writes back. Her neighbors cannot remember the last time they saw her enter her apartment which remains eerily silent.

For the sake of formality and to avoid trouble with the law, the brothel managers file an official missing persons case on behalf of Rita, but from the unamused twinkle in the constable’s eyes at the police station, it was easily understood this investigation wouldn’t be taken seriously or as a priority over a missing prostitute.

It isn’t the first time showgirls, dancers, cocktail waitresses, and prostitutes have gone missing before but especially those who are known by the mafia or have curled up to him are almost always expected to go missing eventually.

It’s either a matter of knowing too much, overhearing something, or being under the suspicion one might snitch or get smart-mouthed towards the mafia which causes mistresses to go missing for good.

Rita isn’t the type to run off for dramatics or disappear for a while nor did the news of the brothel shutting down upset her to do so, but neither the police nor the brothel’s managers expect to find Rita ever again.

Still, it would be something to find Rita’s body at the very least and confirm what happened to her once and for all. Rita’s death would have to be covered up by the police and lied about on every report if it was done by the mafia in which one would truly know if it was done by the hands of a made man or a common killer.

Because the death of many others like Rita is common, there’s no special amount of sympathy felt by anyone on her behalf. Only journalists care about these kinds of cases when it benefits their articles and reports.

At this point in time, it’s been a little while since someone like Rita was reported missing or found dead—leaving a gap in time.

Only once a week passes with no information on Rita, nobody able to contact her, and nothing to pinpoint where she may have gone, what may have happened to her or anything in-between does Luciana’s interest begin to spike up.

Luciana already reported on the brothel shutting down, but it didn’t garner as much attention in the media as she thought.

Although she mentioned Fredo’s name in her article which meant the Corleone family by default and expected some sort of public attention towards it knowing how notorious Fredo’s brothels were when he was actively involved and running them, it appeared that the public was tired of the same old story spun in different ways.

Not only does Rita’s disappearance intrigue Luciana, but the fact that the police, her colleagues, and her employers also stopped caring about her almost immediately beckons for a new report.

Without being explicit or defaming, Luciana’s always been reporting on the drama caused by the mafia and every indulgence they have, especially when it comes to debauchery and luxurious lifestyles.

Since mafiosi are seen as wealthy businessmen outside of the underworld of crime, nothing impacts their reputation, family, or payroll so none come to mind but sometimes even appreciate the light of the media on them. The only exception to this has always been the Tattaglia family.

Tattaglia is the only mafiosi—let alone Don—who considers prostitution a lucrative and important business and because such a business is illegal, Tattaglia pats the city police’s pockets well to keep them in their place and their mouths shut.

Despite suspecting or knowing a fair share herself, Luciana doesn’t care. She takes a neutral stance on everything so as long as it doesn’t impact her directly. Some may even call her selfish for how she couldn’t care less what comes of her colleagues; it’s just one less journalist to compete with.

Luciana also couldn’t care less about the hows and whys of what the crime families do. She’s a reporter and a journalist—all she likes to do is get to the bottom of a good story and deliver.

Luciana remains to be the only journalist at her media outlet that cares about “whore gossip” and “drama scandals” to the point where she’s built her career and reputation on it.

After all, Luciana can be considered a nosy, gossipy person, and growing up she was the first to hear, spread and confirm rumors throughout her high school days that never really faded away when she became an adult.

And despite only speaking with Rita once to be bribed out of reporting a news story on her, Luciana doesn’t consider herself to know Rita personally. All Luciana figures are that Rita, a very popular prostitute and showgirl on stage and behind curtains but not so much in her personal life has gone missing and it’s going to make a hell of a headline.

Luciana’s aware Rita’s always spent her fair share of time with the Barzinis and Tattaglias, so regardless of how Luciana words her headline or chooses to write up a story, it’ll shine the wrong light on the two mafia families which could easily get Luciana and all of her colleagues killed.

Now that their “star girl” Rita Duvall is officially missing, the last thing Luciana will want is any heat on her without implying Rita’s possibly murdered.

For now, Luciana decides to write up an article that’ll only make it look like Rita’s a bad girl gone rogue until Luciana can dig up and discover enough information on what really happened to write up something proper.

‘Without a Trace: Star Showgirl and Performer Rita Duvall Missing?’ Luciana stares at her typewriter, amused by the witty headline she came up with.

It’s only a matter of time until Rita shows up with a bolstered reputation as if she was starting her second act or with a ruined reputation because she disappeared and none cared to find out why. 

It’s that, or the third option; that Rita Duvall is dead.

[livin-like-larry413]

I am also a former supporter but I took time off this weekend to speak to a therapist cos it also fucked me up and to actual friends who work in the field of both healthcare and law enforcement. They IMMEDIATELY mentioned HIPAA laws that would result in both jailtime and hefty fines for any health care or crisis worker "breaking laws" to access this "military database" which doesn't exist - and also pointed out after I showed them sheheal's blog that no crisis worker worth their salt would insert + elevate themselves in this process the way sheheal claimed to be - and the final straw which enraged my actual licensed therapist friend is even making the initial offer to "DM people the family's contact to verify" this - offering strangers on the internet a supposedly grieving veteran's family's contact so people could believe SHEHEAL was legit? prioritizing her reputation over care?

I was chagrined and since then shutting up and clowning myself really for jumping to put my heart over my brain.

next time I'll use both and I hope you do too.

Taking time away and seeking therapeutic help is honestly the best step that anyone can take in situations like this, no matter what end of the road that you come from or are even just a bystander. This is an emotion driven situation no matter what, so I’m happy you’re in a better place, relatively, and I hope you continue to find your peace. That’s all that matters in the end. And for reference, I do use the “general, you” when speaking, so I’m not singling you out, anon, I’m just speaking to an invisible audience. I hope you’re feeling better.

And on the whole “how” they got all this information and their “crisis work”—If you know what to look for, and honestly, a lot of people don’t cause they just don’t know the information and that’s okay, it’s very obvious to see where they lie and where they pull lies from to be more likely to be taken seriously. I’m also old enough and have been in my own set of career fields to be able to spot a HIPPA violation from the start, which was also an obvious thing to see if you know where to look, but here’s the thing—I don’t care if she lied about how she got the information. Who they are will always be a mystery because no matter what they says and who they says they are, no one will ever be fully convinced because it started from a lie.

The lie could be the crisis work in itself, and wanting to be taken seriously in their investigation—it could be a relative that Myka reached out to after going offline, a hurt relative at that if she has indeed taken her life—we don’t know. It’s in a Schrödinger’s box right now, because of the nature that being online creates. You don’t truly know who someone is until you’re given vital information on them and their life, and this situation? We don’t know who sheheals is. Is them being hurt and lashing out appropriate right now? Maybe not if they’re not close to Myka. But if they are, then absolutely they’re allowed to be upset.

And honestly—I just don’t care for the reason, because that’s not the issue at hand that people are losing site of. The issue is people misusing their internet privileges to act immature online and spout whatever first comes to their mind without thinking of the consequences of saying these things. No matter what happened, or what is going to happen, people need to STOP for a minute and just think. Word have always had the power to influence, it’s why they’re more effective than actions most of the time, because they have an impact. People die from these impacts, no matter what, and no matter who you say it to.

People will lie about anything and everything, but it’s always for a reason. We don’t know it, and can only speculate the reason, because something else: no matter what’s said now, everyone that was involved can be thrown the “Well, why should I believe you?” line for various reasons. And that sucks. It’s become such a needlessly convoluted situation that it’s past the point of “Person A said something that incited [this] reaction, Person B said something vilifying and wrong to Person A for it—this had an unfortunate butterfly affect that unknowingly formed a witch hunt on Person A that no one was really predicting to happen”

Except, I will say—they should have predicted it. This has happened enough in this singular fandom in the last barely 3 years of it being heavily active, that they should have seen something like this happening when they chose to be cruel. If I, someone who has never interacted with this fandom, was able to see the state of it from afar and hear about everything that happens here from the grapevine, and then be able to see the extent of it myself in my own research, that is a dastardly huge issue of massive proportions.

People are refusing to accept that fact, because they either don’t see it as that big a deal, or they feel horrible for taking part in it, but don’t want to face the consequences of what has happened. You can feel bad about causing a butterfly effect that ends horrible, you are allowed to be sorry, and feel responsible if that’s how you chose to see it, but to ignore it and then turn around and continue to attack an account that you “suspect” to be an alt isn’t the appropriate response. Unless you start pulling illegal spyware out from your pocket and reverse search every single blog that you suspect to be Myka in disguise’s IP, that is, but I doubt people will go that far just to be proven right. (I will eat my entire house if that ends up happening, and then refer back to everything I’ve just said here, because honestly what the fuck)

There is unfortunately racism in every community you find, no matter what, there’s always going to be someone creating an echo chamber of their own racist values who draw other racists in with them, but my god—the entire point of this whole string of threads is people not including POC characters into every interaction and every text meme is not the end of the world and it’s not racist. Calling someone racist as just a tag line and being a nasty individual to someone for not including POC to every single post they make is unrealistic and a form of harassment, because guess what? It’s never racist to have a headcanon that excludes POC, until the headcanon is a fundamentally racist one. That’s the only time it should be called out for what it is, but any other time, when it’s inconsequential like a stupid NSFW shitpost, is not.

This fandom has seen it happen time and time again, and that’s the point that people are still seeming to miss whenever I look up what other people are saying: Calling someone “racist”, or “a pedo” (If you remember Inquisitor) or any other type of label that has no basis of being truthful (remember, like Inquisitor), simply for the reason that they made something you didn’t like, that you could very much make yourself in response—you know what you’re doing. You know, in some way, you’re painting a target on someone’s back that doesn’t deserve it, simple because you’re mad. And that is such a shitty and irresponsible thing to do.

I know the people who unintentionally started this mess by doing so in the first place have apologized, however weakly or heartfelt they were, because there was two different ways they all apologized or haven’t apologized—I’ve seen both, and I’m gonna say it again for them specifically—because the last thing I want is to be misconstrued and have my words be overlooked when I say it: they should not have been sent death threats or harassed for what has happened either. No matter what issue arises, or what event takes place, death threats, harassment and other forms of torment are never appropriate.

Should they have known better? Sure, but they don’t control other peoples actions. They can’t control the people that make their own witch hunts and drive away the creators that these bloggers have beef with, just like they don’t control what people do or how people chose to respond to their cruel words. They’re not blameless, but they also aren’t in control of anyone but themselves. Because guess what death threats and harassment can lead to?

I’m so inclined to believe Myka’s passing because I’ve seen it in my real life, not just online. Situations just like this, over fandom drama that gets over inflated and taken way out of proportion until someone ends up passing away. It’s a very real and raw thing, and being on any end of this situation is gut wrenching. Guilt and shame are on both sides; guilt for starting it up, guilt for not being there to stop Myka and help her, shame for being so loose with cruel words, shame for not being so free with comfort. It’s complex, and some people are frustratingly content to keep it from being as complex as it is.

There are no sides to this, no matter what people will try to lead you to believe. At the end of the day, a life has been lost, and people still want a drama show from it.

[desultory-novice]

You said the Mechalor/Crowned Marx AU wouldn't have much impact, but could you not extend the format to some other villains? Taranza hunting down Star Dream to try bring Sectonia to her senses, only to make things worse. Susie, trapped and contorted by the Dimension Mirror, now just trying to find her father after her accident.

This is the first ask Mechalor Anon sent me, btw!

I'm half putting this up for interested readers, because it was a fun read, but also for Anon themselves, as I included some fresh commentary on their ideas as well!!

...

>Not much impact

You know, I sometimes forget how popular my little AU ideas can get! (Hmm. Can I claim the title "CEO of Kirby AUs?" Is that one taken?)

ATM these asks ended up leading to the formation of the Permadeath Swap, which I'm working on the second half right now, but there's a lot good here too I don't want to leave on the table!

>Taranza + Star Dream

Ohoho... the fact that Taranza might seek out a DIFFERENT cursed Ancient Artifact to try to undo what the previous cursed Ancient Artifact he got did is so broken in a very delightful way! (And I hate to say it, but it feels very in character for Taranza ^^; )

And that Susie story...feels very much like what may have happened to Parallel Susie! Although, given how she no longer has the hair accessory her father gave her, I think it didn't end so well...

>Permanent changes for Taranza...

Is it sad the first thing that came to mind is "Sectonia actually does real permanent damage to him?" Like...physical abuse? Maybe, since she's losing her mind due to Star Dream eating up her memories and the last traces of "Joronia", she sees Taranza and tries to erm, force HIM to evolve to become more "like her." Doing things like destroying four of his hands, breaking his mandible/horns and blinding him in all but two of his eyes. Like, at this point, she can't even recognize / remember what caused the changes in herself so she just thinks that by breaking him she's helping him to "evolve." Of course, he never seems to "get there" so she just keeps going...

Oooh, god, wouldn't that would be awful...? The other awful thing of course is that by this point, Taranza might just accept all the horrible things she's doing to him with a smile because he wants them to be the same too (inside, he knows this is wrong, but he can't speak up about it because it means accepting how BAD things have gotten.)

Keep smiling, Taranza. Joronia used to say your smile was beautiful. If you stop smiling...what body part will she take next?

-

PS: I actually forgot while writing this that she wouldn’t be her BEE self because it would just be the star and not the mirror (so much for god reading comprehension…) but uh… just go with it. >.<

(Btw, I’m reminded just how dark this AU can get. I don’t know what it is about the BossSwap that brings out the worst in me….!)

>Max's Eternal Search

Something I really like about the thing with Max is that when Star Dream began messing with him, became obsessed with money - to the point that it was the only thing he thought about. Everything he has is expensive. Everything in framed in terms of how much ludicrous amounts of money it costs in his own fictional currency. ("Company store" indeed.) Everything is covered in gold + gemstones. Greed incarnate. But...

...This Max would probably become obsessed with looking through the mirror instead. If he stops looking for even a moment, he might miss catching a rare trace of Susanna. And so he uses his technology to expand the mirror's reach and makes sure EVERYTHING he owns is absolutely covered in mirrors/mirror-dimension feeds. (Take THAT, Versailles!) You can't see his eyes, as they're always covered in visors projecting the mirror. He doesn't even LOOK at you when he's talking down to you because he is still looking for Susanna...

>Daroach + Hyness Swap

"None of these are great?"

WHAT?! I love this idea?! A Daroach + Hyness swap?! This is going on the to-draw list for sure! And by draw, I mean I now need to see the Mage Sisters dressed up as a pack of 1920s-esque lady thieves! The Jamba cult in a wacky heist story is too good.

No, really, this one is galaxy-brained! Multiverse-brained, even!

Plus, Squidward I mean Hyness and Dark Nebula just...they'd be so cute together?! (...Don't look at me that way... >.> ) Also, Dark Hyness would probably look like some kind of skrunkly cthuhlu (Nebula's arms sticking out from under his hood/veil) and that's just great?!

Fun fact: It is not a Squeak who steals Kirby's cake but WADDLE DEE (the traitor!!) And yet, I can totally see Flamberge in the role of starting things off this time. 

Zan: "Is everyone ready?" 

Berge: "Hold on, I gotta finish this."

"...Berge? Where did you get that?" 

"Huh? I grabbed it along the way. Figured you'd start complaining if I made us stop to eat in the middle of the mission! Smart, huh?" 

"Are you telling me...you found a slice of cake...just lying on the side of the road?" 

"No way! That'd be silly, Zan!" 

"I'm trying to ask, who did you take it FROM?" 

"Dunno. Didn't ask their name! Haha!"

"...BERGE...!"

-

My weak attempts at writing the sisters aside, you're right about Daroach and the Squeaks being quite easy to fit into this plot. After all, Daroach already expressed interest in the Jamba Heart! Given it's probably close to the galaxy's "largest jewel" in size, he might already have his heart set on stealing it! Perhaps he finds it but it has lost its glow. (The Heart Spears are still restraining Void Termina, after all.)

He uses what little magic he has to try and restore the gem's sheen, but just as it does, the Jamba Heart splinters and cracks. So he sends Spinni, Storo, and Doc out to gather the missing pieces, breaking up the cohesion of the close-as-family group as he stays behind to make sure... it's, you know, that it's safe... All the while, the Heart takes up more and more of Daroach's thoughts...

Also seeing the Squeaks all dressed in black... Yeah, I like this swap...!

>Various Elfilis Swaps

I think the funniest thing about swapping the two geminis and Zero/Zero 2 is that you would either have Gooey playing the role of your "Elfilin" figure... or Dark Matter Blade!!

And something about the perpetually friendless, socially awkward Blade attempting to assist or (...god...) give commentary on what's going on is just very fun to imagine.

Let's ignore the fact that Dark Matter would almost certainly play the role of brainwashed Dedede in that situation and just go with it!

Lastly, while I really, really, really like the Daroach + Hyness swap (it's probably my favorite just because I'm still having the time of my life imagining the super serious Hyness and the Sisters in the madcap "Wacky Races" plotline that is Squeak Squad) but I like this possibility too! Especially if you have it so it's an unexpected consequence of the botched summoning. (Although it WAS secretly effective! This is just what happens when you touch the mind of a dimensional rift opening psychic from across time!)

[polyamorouspunk]

heyyy polypunk, long time ghost follower and first time asker. just wanted to vent a Lil and seek advice to make sure I wasn't crazy. I've been in a relationship with a friend, kinda casual and unlabeled, for the past few months. I thought it was a relationship anarchy thing but it's never been clear, we both agreed to deliberately be unlabeled cause we didnt believe in em for ourselves. but we'd been arguing more in the past week in text, so I finally invited him over to talk, and he "thinks it's better if we stay platonic for now because [he is] too busy with his primary partner". he was admittedly really kind and understanding about it, gave me time to process, a glimmer of hope. but it just makes it harder... I wish he had been an asshole so I could let go easier, but I also really hope we *can* stay friends and it won't be strange now. (makes it even harder that I have BPD, so the impulse and breaking down). I've already said I needed space for a bit etc, and I'm seeking comfort from my own partner, but do you have any other advice for trying to let go?

Taking space is a great start. If you do truly want to keep being friends you’re going to have to re-establish communication at some point, and you’re probably not going to know when that point is, it’s going to be a guessing game. You might think you’re good to reach out and as soon as you do you feel that dagger of pain shooting through you. Or maybe you reach out and things are great and as soon as they respond is when you go oof ouch my heart and feel like shit about it.

Let yourself cry. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be angry. You can still be mad at someone for dumping you even if they were nice and civil about it. You can still vent about the issues you were having before and how it sucks that they treated you this way etc. etc. and how it shouldn’t have ended like that and they should have given you the opportunity to hear you out etc.

I mean when ⚡️ was isolating I was venting to our mutuals friends about it and a lot of shit that was bothering me that she did. I was like “that bitch” this and “that bitch” that but any time anyone was like yeah you should dump her I was like no I love her, the issue is that I want to work through this shit and she doesn’t. And then when she did dump me I wasn’t even surprised honestly, like I had it coming tbh in a way, but she made it worse by being her. Like I don’t think I was in the wrong for taking issue with how she handled things even if when she dumped me she was very tactile about it. Like she wasn’t mean in any way at all ever but I was still able to vent about shit and have our friends rightfully say “that’s shitty that she did that” even though she never meant to hurt me ever.

And obviously none of that has stopped me from loving her. I did take some space from her after sorting things out because I felt like I needed it, and that was the right move I think. It’s different because I am still with her, but I’m more comfortable in our relationship than I have been up to this point.

If you’re not ready to let go that’s where the issue is going to lie. People kept telling me to dump ⚡️ and I kept saying no because *I* was not ready. I know myself and my BPD well enough to know that there is a point I reach with someone’s “bullshit” that is my breaking point and when that happens then I can leave them and not regret it, but I know if I had left before that I would have regretted it.

It’s hard though when someone else makes that decision for you.

When my ex dumped me I was very confused and lost because I was like but don’t you still love me and he was like yes so I was like so do we still say “I love you” and we did until he said it didn’t feel right anymore. It was helpful to kind of taper that relationship off, and the main issue was when he decided he just never wanted to speak to me again out of the blue. On the one hand it made things between us easier: no contact by order of him. But on the other hand I was not able to process that and work through it really well so it’s been like 3 years now and I’m still not “over” it because I wasn’t ready for that.

It sucks because everyone has the right to end a relationship when they want, but if the other person isn’t ready for that it’s hard for them to cope. I mean yeah I haven’t spoken to my ex in almost 3 years. I have a wonderful girlfriend I’ve had for almost a year now who I’m now able t be with now that I’m not with that ex. I have the girl of my dreams now too. And I’m still not over my ex.

I would latch onto the “for now” part too, and I mean, I’ve had ⚡️ kinda stringing me along with that mentality too for the past few months (again though, I think we’re in the best place we have been so far over the past few weeks, and I’m much more comfortable and confident in our relationship than I have been) so yes, like, sometimes it does work out for the best! But sometimes you get situations like I had with 🔮 where it’s like yeah you really fucked me up and the stress of you stringing me along only to dump me led me to a really low point in my life I’m still dealing with even though I’m dating your friend ⚡️ which is the girl I wanted to be dating anyway and I was just settling for you.

Plus there are just so many factors outside of that too. Like how’s the world around you? How’s your home life? How’s work? How’s school? If those things are “perfect” that’s going to contribute to any depression you’re feeling from this breakup.

Just because it was unlabeled doesn’t mean it wasn’t a breakup and you didn’t get dumped. Validate yourself in recognizing that.