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sarcastic-sunshines · 5 years ago

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She’s Mine Part 1

Author’s Note: This is my submission for @chaneajoyyy & @shaekingshitup ‘s Quarantine Challenge. It was just what I needed and I am so grateful for both you lovely ladies doing this. I hope you all are staying indoors and staying. As always, I cannot wait to hear what you think 😊

P.S. I was inspired by the song She’s Mine Part 1 by J Cole

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x [Black Reader]

Quarantine Writing Challenge Masterlist

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She’s Mine Part 1

“You’ve made so much progress over the past few months.”

Erik lifted his head, finally making eye contact with his therapist.

Here he was.

He never saw himself making it this far. He had asked for one thing: death. But here he was, spending most of his days listening to this woman and his family, trying to repair the inner turmoil that had been building his entire existence.

Erik stared intensely at the woman before turning and looking at his ‘family’ around the room. They seemed happy, they always did. But this time, they showed a look of accomplishment. They believed in the progress that he apparently had made. He didn’t. He could see the benefit, though he wasn’t ready to call them family yet. Nonetheless, he thought he understood them all better. But he wasn’t ready to open up fully yet. He didn’t think he would ever be ready.

“If you ever need more than the weekly sessions, I can make myself available to you, Prince Erik.” He nodded slowly. The title still sounded foreign to his ears.

The therapist got up and left. Not long after Queen Mother and the Princess followed her out, but T’Challa stayed, waiting for his cousin to say anything.

“Are you alright,” he said, tired of waiting.

“I’m good,” Erik spoke. He observed the gentle face staring at him. “It don’t matter how many sessions we have. I’m gonna need time to adjust to this, my new normal.” T’Challa had a way of getting him to open up with little effort. The man always appeared so trusting, and a little piece of him wanted to fully trust him. But he knew better than to do that. So he would slowly let the man in.

Slowly but surely.

“I know it is strange. That is why I think throwing yourself into a project will help you acclimate better.”

“Yeah,” he responded while leaning back into the chair, “what you got me doing?”

“Shuri is working on something for the kids in the center. I think you would be interested. It is a long term project that you will get to present in about nine months. I think it is enough time to decide where you would like to be. Here… Or America.” T’Challa stood, waiting for Erik to do the same. “Though I will admit cousin, as difficult as it had been for us, I have enjoyed your time here, and I personally would love it if you stay.” With that, T’Challa turned to walk out the room, leaving Erik behind. He needed a moment before he started walking towards his own chambers.

His cousin’s question made him think about where he wanted to be. He hadn’t thought he would make it this far. He wasn’t sure what to do with this ‘second chance at life’. That’s what the therapist called it. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted it. Until he figured that out, he was back to surviving. He didn’t know what living felt like. He hadn’t for a long time.

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The music was blaring. The heavy afrobeat tempo bounced off the walls of the lab as he entered, but he didn’t mind. He looked around at the different lab coats busily passing through the lab, working on what he could only describe as greatness.

That’s when he first saw her.

Her large afro puff pushed away from the deep umber complexion of her face. Her glasses sat low on her nose as she was solving some equation on the holographic board. Her lab coat hung tight on her curves that were impossible to miss. She was glowing. She had to be! How else could he explain why he was so drawn to her.

Her concentration broke away from the board as she surveilled the room for a moment. Briefly, her eyes connected with his. It only had been an instant, but in that instant, he knew. He had felt more within his soul than he had in months. Shuri quickly drew him away from the moment as she waved with rhythm, trying to get her cousin’s attention.

“I am so excited you are here! I think you will love what we are working on,” she said, already moving towards her work table.

“Your brother said it’s basically like mini kimoyo beads.”

“Exactly. Of course, more limited than the ones Wakandan Citizens have, but this will help the kids with any of their needs! From school to housing, and even letting the Outreach coordinators know if a child is in trouble.”

“I like that, so what do you want me to do?” he asked as Shuri handed him a clipboard.

“Well, your fancy American degree leads me to believe that being the head of something like this would be right up your ally. And of course, your life experience lets me know a sense of empathy will be included as well,” she said with a small smile.

He nodded at her, and though he didn’t return the smile, Shuri could see the warmth in his eyes. Despite everything, she knew Erik liked her. She would catch him snickering at her jokes every once in a while, and it made her feel like she was doing something right. And she was. Erik could admit that watching Shuri’s enthusiasm for life was something worth seeing. It made him feel warm on the inside, and instinctively protective over her. Which showed how far they had come, considering how they had met.

“And here is your team.” Shuri gestured to five individuals who lifted their heads to work and wave at the prince. “I will let you get to know them on your own time, but you will be working closely with y/n.”

And just like that, the woman who had captured his attention when he entered stood in front of him, Her smile was wide as she stuck her hand out for him to shake. “ Y/n originally came up with the idea and has been leading it alongside me. I think you will both get along. She is easily one of my favourite people,” Shuri continued to praise y/n, who Erik had finally focused enough to shake hands with.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Erik” he stuttered out and internally winced. What was happening to him?

“I know”, y/n said, still smiling. She never broke eye contact, and it was as if she was seeing into his soul. “From what Shuri has said about you, I think you will be a great fit for what we have already started.”

“Alright. I’m excited to get to know you,” he said smoothly, his charm slowly returning. He made it obvious he was taking her full form in, and he could see she was doing the exact same thing. He didn’t mind at all. “Why don’t you introduce me to everyone, and then show me the layout.”

And with that, her work mode turned on. Erik found himself struggling to catch up as he trailed behind her around the lab. He tried to stay focus and soak up everything she was saying, but it never took long for his mind to focus on everything else about her but the safety guidelines she was currently reading out. He could tell already, there was a fire in every aspect of her. He was so intrigued by her, more than ready to explore this fire, hoping he wouldn’t get burned along the way.

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MONTH 1

If there was one thing Erik loved about Wakanda, it was the landscape. The natural beauty of the land was really like no other. So every day, during his lunch he would climb a hill where a few benches were littered and eat while enjoying the beauty before him. It seemed like a remote spot, so he was always able to enjoy peace and quiet. Especially knowing his next meal would be a much louder family dinner.

He didn’t mind family dinner, but he was for sure not used to it. The idea of sitting at a table where everyone shared their days and inside jokes was one he never saw himself being included in. At only one foster home did he ever eat at the table with everyone else, but it was always dead quiet. Laughter rarely filled that table. But here, among his ‘family’, laughter was a requirement. He still found himself feeling like an outsider despite the few chuckles he had been able to let out.

So at lunch, he appreciated the serenity of the hill as he prepared himself for not only the rest of the day but also his attempt to join the laughter.

He began to chew slowly, placing his book to the side when he could hear the muffled version of someone’s music. So much for a quiet lunch, he said to himself. He took a large bite thinking that if he ate quicker he could leave quicker. He felt a presence, but he didn’t turn until the person was sitting right next to him.

The irritated face Erik originally had turned with had disappeared as soon as he saw y/n sitting next to him ever so casually.

“I thought I was the only one who liked sitting up here,” she said pulling out her packed lunch while stealing glances at Erik.

“Guess not,” he said finally. “ It is quiet up here, almost -”

“Serene,” she said, finishing his sentence before looking at him with a smile. He nodded slowly, with the smallest smile growing on his face. He liked y/n. After working with her for the better part of the month, he admired how confident and sure of herself she always was. When she looked at him, he felt her trying to understand him, even with the very little that he offered.

“Exactly, how come I haven’t seen you out here before? Actually, I never see you leave the lab. I was starting to think you were one of the robots that Shuri is always working on,” he said, taking another bite as y/n giggled at his comment. He almost felt proud of himself for getting her to laugh.

“I am just a perfectionist. I really want this project to go well. It is like my baby.” she said looking out at the landscape, before turning to him. “But how ironic you say that, considering you are always the last one to leave the lab and the first one there in the morning.”

“Yeah well, you’re not the only one who wants this to work out. Shuri was right. My heart is in it. I didn’t want it to be, but it’s hard not to think about all the kids whose lives could be even a little better than mine.” Y/n stared into his eyes the whole time he spoke.

“I understand,” she said softly, and without thinking, she placed her hand on his knee. He stared at the hand for a moment. He didn’t want to admit but it was comforting. One thing he had noticed about working with y/n was that she had a way of making everyone feel like they had known each other for decades. Her presence always brought a sense of familiarity and Erik didn’t realize how much he loved it until this moment.

“So what does the prince do when he isn’t spending all his time testing out prototypes?” she said breaking the comfortable silence they had been basking in.

“I don’t know yet. Y’all don’t really play basketball out here.”

“Have you tried football?” “You mean soccer?” he asked, making y/n roll her eyes, “ I do. T’Challa tries to take me every once in a while but I don’t know if I like playin’ as much as watchin’.”

“Well if you like watching, I always need someone who is willing to watch the Premiere league with me. Wakandans are very patriotic, and that even comes to football, they only watch their own league,” she explained

“So you’re not patriotic?”

“I am. I just also enjoy the beautiful game of football as the international treasure that it is,” she said with a slight glare, her smile still painted on her face. “Besides, we can work on some of that paperwork that goes along with American projects as we watch.”

They both began to pack up their lunch as she waited for his answer. Since Erik had gotten here, he hadn’t made any friends, let alone been invited to activities outside of work. He was used to keeping to himself, and he liked it. But there was something about this woman that made him feel like he couldn’t get enough of her. So he ignored the voice in his head telling him to say he was busy and nodded his head.

“A’ight, I’ll come, but you gotta watch a Warriors game with me,” he said.

“That is fine, but just know I am a Clippers fan,” she said with a smirk. Erik stopped for a moment, he couldn’t lie, he was a little shocked she watched the NBA at all. Basketball fans were not that many in Wakanda, and he had only found a few.

“What?! They not even the best team in LA,” he said, catching himself smiling.

“That is not what is important here! I grew up a Clippers fan, so they are the best team to me.”

“Now who was out here teachin’ you the wrong thing,” Erik asked as they walked down the hill.

“My father. He was a war dog stationed in Los Angeles. He used to say his favourite thing to do on his mission was to go to Clippers game, especially when they played the Lakers, so you can take that up with him when you see him,” she said with a giggle.

“Shit, I might just have to,” he said with a low chuckle to match her laugh. He stared at her as she kept talking. This was the most comfortable he had felt since waking up. When they reached the bottom of the hill, he realized he didn’t want the moment to end.

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MONTH 3

“Okay, try this.” She held a spoon full up to his mouth. He stared at the spoon for a second before giving. He chewed for a moment before moaning in satisfaction.

“Damn, that’s good. It tastes like collard greens,” he said, watching y/n serving him a plate of the vegetable.

“Because it is. It is called Sukuma, and its what we are going to eat with the Ugali.” She finished serving them both before placing both plates on her dining table. Meanwhile, Erik worked hard to not get lost staring at the roundness of her curves. So, as usual, he focused on the artwork on her walls, vibrant colours that matched the equally vibrant decor inside y/n’s home.

The first time he came over, he felt like he learned more about her just from her home. She smiled more when they were here, and she always seemed more relaxed. Erik enjoyed her the most here and recognized her home as her comfort zone. Her curls always went up into the tidiest bun she could manage at the time, and her work clothes were replaced with a pair of leggings or shorts with a crop top. If the Clippers were playing, she would bring out her jersey just to annoy Erik. And each time he would feign annoyance, just to stop himself from saying how sexy he actually thought she looked.

Each week, she would introduce him to new Wakandan cuisine and they would talk endlessly about nothing. Sometimes the conversation got deeper than nothing. He talked about his father, and his experiences after as he bounced through different foster homes. He learned that her mother was a Somali-American who her father had met while stationed in LA. After she passed when y/n was five, her father brought her back to Wakanda, and she hadn’t been back since. Knowing that made Erik more comfortable with his own confusing identity.

As usual, they moved to the couch where they let the effects of their food coma take over their bodies. Erik had learned quickly that y/n loved physical touch. Even if it was in the most subtle of gestures like their knees touching. After a heavy meal like the one, they just had, y/n head was always found resting against his shoulder as they watched a sports game. They had started to show each other their favourite films.

Tonight y/n had convinced him into watching Beyond the Lights, Erik watched y/n face as she felt every emotion that Noni Jean portrayed through her screen.

“I see you,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I see you. It’s like the overall theme of the film. To have a love so deep, so soulful, that they see all of you.” At this point, y/n had sat up and was looking at Erik intensely. And Erik was looking back at her, feeling every word she was saying. “Your fears, your insecurities, your wants and needs, aspirations, all of it. That type of love is so deep and intentional.”

“You ever had that type of love before?” Erik asked meekly, as they sat facing each other now.

“I always thought I did, but I don’t know, sometimes you just feel a connection, and I think at that moment you begin to feel it.” She broke eye contact for a moment to look at her leg, where Erik’s arm had been soothingly passing for about a minute.

“It’s like…”

“It just clicks in that exact moment, and you just know everything and anything.” His voice grew deeper as he finished her sentence. It had been like this for the past two months. Sometimes the conversations would get so deep, they felt the energy. It would take over his whole body, but the fear of opening up like that would make him pull away.

But not this time. He knew with all his being that he didn’t want to pull away. So he moved his hand from her knee to cup her face softly.

“Clarity. That’s what that is,” she said softly as she closed the space in between them. Erik met her halfway. They were so close, he could feel her breath on his lips. “I see you.”

The gentle declaration was all he needed to finally capture her lips in his.

It felt like they had been in this space before. He didn’t feel like he was learning her body, but rather that he was being reintroduced to the curves he had been admiring from afar. Her lips on his body was a sensation that he had been anticipating for a while. His hands on her hips felt like home, and he hadn’t had that in a long time. Their bodies connecting was a moment he wanted to just live in forever.

Her little snores were a comforting sound as she laid on his chest. His hand slowly passed on her bareback, and it was then he realized that he felt alive, had something to look forward to.

With that thought, he kissed her head and finally turned off his mind and let sleep take him. It was the best sleep he had had in months.

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MONTH 5

Y/n looked over Erik’s shoulder as he focused on the long legal document that sat in front of him. He had been reading through it for the better part of the night. She pulled the chair next to him and rested her chin on his shoulder. He turned for a moment to kiss her before going back to highlighting.

“You have been looking at this all night. I thought you came over to spend time with me,” she pouted as she spoke. His arm came around her, slowly creeping under her shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby, you know how it is. Once I start, I can’t put it down.” He turned off the holographic document and turned his full attention to her. “But I’m all yours now, what are we doing?”

She kissed him again, trying to center him, but she could tell he was still thinking about whatever he was working on. “Do you want to share with me what you are reading about?”

Erik stopped for a moment, hesitant to share. She lifted his head so they could hold eye contact.

“It’s the Foster Care Regulation in the state of California. I’m just tryin’ to see if there’s a way the center can take in these kids instead of them being thrown around the system.”

“Because you know you can do a better job than the current system?” she asked, he nodded along with her question.

“I just know what it’s like, and if I can help even just one kid, then this would be worth it. Giving them food and safe place ain’t shit if they’re being shuffled around every couple months.” As always, she nodded along as he spoke, acknowledging every word he was saying, and the words he was afraid to say. “I hear you,” she said softly, and with those simple words, he felt like his ideas were sane. “I am sure we can look into more when we go for the launching of the beads. I’m excited you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, I get to see places that I haven’t been able to go since I was a little girl. Probably visit all the parts of the city that my parents loved so much. And, of course, see all the places that created my Erik,” she said gripping his chin, his smile exposing the golden grill that she loved so much.

Y/n kissed him softly before continuing. “After your cousin opened the border for Wakandans, I promised that I would only go back if I had something to give to my people. Now the months are getting closer and it’s becoming so real, you know?” He loved how excited she looked.

“You ever thought about moving back, like living there?”

“I don’t think so… Wakanda is home at this point. I want my life to be here.” She paused for a moment before looking at him doubtingly. “Are you thinking of going back to Oakland?” “It’s a possibility.”

“Meaning?”

“Look, I never knew how long I was gon’ stay. I just knew I needed to learn this side of me, and I did. Oakland’s home though. It’s familiar to me. And if I wanna get this alternative foster care system off the ground, I’m gon’ wanna be there. There ain’t nothing holding me here anyways.”

Y/n’s eyes opened wide. He could see the hurt he caused and immediately felt bad “Really, not one reason for you to even consider staying?”

“Baby...you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She didn’t wait for him to finish before getting up and walking towards her room. All he heard was the slam of her door to know she was pissed. These were the moments Erik wasn’t ready for yet: the attachment part, where he had to consider someone else. He knew what he said was rude, but a little piece of him needed to know he could be without her. There was a strange comfort in knowing that. At least that’s what he told himself as he packed his things to go home.

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MONTH 6

Family dinner was extra loud today, and that’s because Erik had joined. His boisterous voice was finally being heard in the dining hall. Most importantly, his laughter. He was with his family, six months ago, he didn’t think he could say that without feeling strange about it. But here he was, listening and laughing.

“Oh, by the way, Erik, can I give you this folder to give y/n?” Shuri asked casually. “I’ve barely seen her at the lab.”

And Erik knew why. She was avoiding him. It was obvious. They had barely spoken since his comment. Not that she hadn’t tried, but things just grew awkward. Erik missed her though. Even when she was around, he could tell she was withdrawn, probably doing what he too was trying to do.

Protecting his heart.

“Uh yeah, I’ll bring it to her later on,” he said, retreating back into his hard shell. The only one who seemed to have noticed was T’Challa, who didn’t have a problem sharing his concern as they walked down the long palace halls.

“So are things okay with you and y/n?”

“Yeah? Why you asking?”

“Because you’ve been showing up to dinner more often,” T’Challa said with a smirk that made Erik roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, things have been different. I mentioned going back to Oakland and she got all up in her feelings.” T’Challa frowned for a second before steadying his face.

“So you decided to go? I didn’t know you had already made a decision. I was getting used to having you here, cousin.”

“I haven’t decided shit. She just thinks we’re a unit. But I need to figure out what’s best for me. Ain’t that what I was supposed to be doing,” he said much more aggressively than he intended.

“That is somewhat true, but I also know you have been acting like you are a ‘unit’. You practically were living together,” T’Challa said jokingly, making Erik kiss his teeth. “I also know since you started seeing y/n, you have become a much different person than who you were six months ago. I can’t say she is the cause of it all, but you and I know she played a larger role.”

Erik stopped and leaned on the wall, looking at the folder under his arm. He knew his cousin was right, and he hated it.

“I think you are just afraid of the love and stability she offers. We both know you haven’t had that in a long time, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of it.”

Erik nodded for a second. He spun his ring for a moment before leaving the wall. “I gotta go. I’ll catch you later,” he said walking in the opposite direction from T’Challa.

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It was a large bang on the door. It startled y/n who had been meditating. It seemed like she had been needing a sense of peace more than usual. There was another bang on the door, followed by Erik yelling. “Baby! I know you in there!”

She slowly got up from her spot on the ground and found Erik standing on the other side looking much meeker than he had sounded only a moment ago. Slowly, his eyes traveled down her body before he cleared his throat to speak.

“Shuri said to bring this to you,” he said thrusting the folder in her hand. She looked down at it with a frown.

“Is that the only reason you came here?”

“No. I came to find out why you haven’t been coming to work. You know we need you to keep us in order,” he tried to joke, but y/n’s face did not move at all.

“Baby, can I come in and talk for a second,” he asked more seriously. Reluctantly, she opened the door wider to let him in. He took his normal spot on her couch and watched as she chose to sit as far from him as possible. He groaned before remembering he wasn’t there to argue with her.

“So,” she said with all the attitude she could.

“There ain’t never been a time in my life when I was allowed to be comfortable, you know that,” he said slowly. “I’m not justifying anything, but it’s hard for me to let you in like that, to think this kinda happiness is one I’m supposed to be comfortable with. That it’s not gon’ leave as soon as I accept it. So I became cold as soon as it became comfortable.” His leg began to shake nervously. “Everyone I have ever loved has been taken away from me, and I don’t need that happenin’ with you. I’ve been fine on my own. At least I thought I was, then I realized I got family, and you. And I am sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t the most important person in my life.”

He finally looked at her for the first time since he started talking.

“Because I love you so much y/n. I love you so much I’m afraid to lose you,” he began to sniffle, trying to keep his emotions together.

Y/n smiled at him, slowly closing the gap between them. She placed a hand on top of his, and with the other, she held his chin, making sure he kept eye contact with her. And for a moment she didn’t respond, she just stared at him. Erik felt his breathing slowing down. He hadn’t even realized how anxious he had been.

It scared him to think about how safe one person could make him feel. Something he hadn’t experienced since being a little boy in his Baba’s arms.

“I love you too Erik Stevens,” y/n spoke after a moment. A soft smile rested on her lips. “I was scared to, but I do, and because of that, I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded softly letting her words sink into his soul.

“I love you, and I see you.” Those words, so simple, but enough to let him know where he needed to be.

“I see you too,” he said before kissing her softly. She brought her arms around him, and just like that, he felt alive again.

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

MONTH 9

“I’m open!”

Erik yelled to one of the kids on his team to pass to him. As soon as he got the ball, he went straight for a layup, and just like that he helped his team win. The young boys circled around him reaching for high fives from Erik. Erik glanced at y/n who stood at the sidelines with a slight smile on her face.

An announcement rang through the outreach center letting the boys know they had ten minutes before a session with Shuri. Erik watched as all the boys moved to get their things and go. He took the opportunity to walk over to y/n who he greeted with a deep kiss before she pushed him away.

“If I knew I had a cheerleader out there, I would have made more shots,” he said with a smile that made y/n playfully shove him as she tried to hide her smile.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m just here to make sure you get ready for the game on time. I want you to see every moment of the Clippers destroying your little team.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a team that ain’t got no ring,” he said putting his arm around her as she giggled. They started to walk from the center to his car ever so slowly. He took in the atmosphere of his hometown. He had missed it, but not as much as he thought he would.

“You are very good with the kids.”

“Yeah... You think so?” He opened her car door for her.

“All they talk about in our practice sessions is how cool Erik.” She threw her hands up mockingly as he buckled in and turned towards her.

“They’re cool kids. It ain’t hard with them.”

“I hope its that easy when we have ours.”

His heart seemed to have stopped for a moment. They had never talked about that far in the future before.

“Calm down, ma, you don’t want to do things the right way? I don’t know. Think about marriage first,” he says looking at her face, making sure to take in everything she said.

“My dad always mentioned the two of us doing our rituals and him giving me away to you.” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know. My parents never got married but I think their love was pure without it. So I think I feel the same way. We don’t need titles to know we are committed to each other.”

He looked at her for a moment, slightly distracted by the woman that he loved.

“I like that. Just know that no matter what we decide I’m still gon’ call you my wifey.”

“That’s fine. As long as you are the one saying it,” she said leaning in to kiss him.

“I hear you,” he said looking at her before getting ready to drive off.

She kept stealing glances of him before speaking.“Have you given more thought about where you want to stay? Is Oakland calling you?”

He placed his hand on her bouncing leg.

“Right now? Home is wherever you are,” he said with a straight face. “That’s gon’ mean me going back for a while but we’ll make it work.”

She nodded with a smile before picking up his hand on her thigh and giving it a kiss and placing it back. He flashed her a smile showing off the golden grill that she loved so much. They entered a comfortable silence, filled only by a soft R&B playlist he had playing. It was then, he was sure, that this was what living felt like. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Part 2

Taglist: @aloevverified @chaneajoyyy @shaekingshitup @fd-writes @ashanti-notthesinger @ghostfacekill-monger

#erik kilmonger x reader #quarantine writing challenge #sunshinewrites

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mcudarklibrary · 5 years ago

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Dark! Multi-chapter Stories In Progress

Welcome library dwellers. Browse the catalogue for delicious dark treats that are currently still brewing about our favourite Marvel characters. Want your story added to the list or have you found something hiding in the dark corner? Send us a message and we will add it to the catalogue.

Remember, AUs are more than welcome in the dark part of the library!

Happy reading, darkies!

Steve Rogers/Captain America

A Gentle Frost by @jtargaryen18

You were a newer member of the Avengers when the Sokovia Accords tore the team apart. A meeting is arranged between Vision and Wanda. Steve knows Vision will come to his side for Wanda. And that leaves you… Steve plans to take you for his own.

All I Want by @kellyn1604

Professor! Steve Rogers sees a lot of potential in a new student. One that he would like to explore, but professional and societal expectations have ways of keeping us from what we want.

Captive by @mdemontespan1667

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Die Besessenheit by @imanuglywombat & @sophiria

You have slowly worked your way through the writer’s ranks at the New York Times, finally securing your dream spot in the business section as an investigative journalist. However, turning down your boss’ advances lands you writing the article from hell: a PR-fix for the Avengers.

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You catch the eye of Steve Rogers, Captain America.

Fixation by @smutsonian

You were just walking home from a friend’s house when all of a sudden, a certain super soldier ambushes you.

Heartbeat by @tansypoisoning

In which Steve comes back from the past to be with you, but he’s not the same person he was when he left

His Muse by @golden-ariess

You are his muse. The way you walk, the way you move is living art to him. He falls deeper every time... But you don't know him.

I Find That Which Is Lost by @caffiend-queen

In which Traveller, who ekes out a living by traveling through time to bring back that which is lost, discovers that a reckless and desperate Captain America is sending out ripples that are shredding the fabric of Time through his use of the Infinity Stones. Steve Rogers may not understand what he’s doing, but the Traveller does, as well as Loki, the God of Mischief and Lies. The question is, why is the former Avenger doing this, and who can stop him before he tears Time and Space apart?

Say Thank You by @honeyhan-123

Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Sibling Rivalry by @imdarkinme

This a story set in GoT type scenario, where the reader and Steve are half-siblings, and children of the Warden of Brooklyn. You both hate each other and try to compete with each other until one of you rises above the other.

Tapestry by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

The Nearness of You @cptnrogerss

it’s the first christmas after the snap. grief brings steve back to where he first found bucky in romania. he finds a ghost that bucky left behind instead.

What You Need by @tansypoisoning

Life as an unemployed, homeless wanderer was hard, until you met Captain America. Then it got worse.

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

A Gilded Cage by @imanuglywombat

James Buchanan Barnes did not deserve love. After a lifetime of killing and torture, he was beyond the scope of being loved. That was until the night he met you. It was love at first sight for both of you. The panic sets in though when you begin to pull away, consumed by the demands of your career. Bucky has to keep you safe, keep you locked away from the dangers of the outside world. So he takes matters into his own hands.

Breach by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

I.O.U. by @champangebucky

Bucky is tired of the youngest Avenger having all of Steve’s attention.

Trapped by @jennmurawski13 & @catnip987

After the five other winter soldiers that Hyrda has in cold storage are killed, The Asset is the only one that remains. In order to create more soldiers for their army, they come to the conclusion that they need a young, strong woman to carry his child, bringing forth the new generation of Hydra super soldier.

Waves That Beat On Heaven’s Shore by @jtargaryen18

She died in 2014. Bucky had killed her himself as the Winter Soldier. Inexplicably brought back from the snap, he knows it’s only a matter of time before HYDRA catches her. He’s not convinced she knows anything that would earn her protection from SHIELD. Bucky decides to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him and take matters into his own hands

Wicked Game by @salimahbicharara-comun

Victorian AU. Three months after getting engaged to the elegant but cold Mr. Rogers, you find yourself trapped in the Rogers Manor. Surrounded by nothing but forests and lakes, you were more than enthusiastic when your fiancé introduced you to his childhood friend; James Barnes. Lonely to no end and accompanied by only the darkness and your thoughts, your nights start to get filled of wicked dreams of a man of blue eyes and a devilish smirk.

Tony Stark

Darling by @ironlady1993

This will be a dark!story with Non-con Smut in future Chapters. Reader is Tonys Stepdaughter so no Inzest here.

Stucky

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart by @spacesnail3000

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Brooklyn Syndrome by @lordelannette

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin. "P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down. Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?" Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

Let’s Review by @viciousdenofsacrilege

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

My Right To Purge by @theliveshipparagon

Purge Night starts at Stark Tower

The Game of Hearts by @you-are-my-sanctuary

After being kidnapped and sold to an underground club, you quickly learn that the only way to survive in The Red Room was to gain the favor of its customers.Popularity among the men of the bar meant everything in this world.It meant you would have a stable income of food, better treatment from the Mistress, better rooms and of course, it meant you wouldn’t be some cheap fuck anyone and everyone could use.It meant the men seeing you would have to be important and wealthy. It meant that they had to be powerful.When it comes to power, no one was as powerful as Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.Brooklyn’s very own Kings.And everyone knows a king needs a queen.So when these two infamous Mob bosses set their smouldring eyes on you, you were sure of one thing:This was going to be the ultimate game of hearts.One you weren’t sure you were going to win.

It’s A Party (Multiple Partners)

Hunger by @searchforanotherway

You’re camping with your friends. On a hike you are suddenly kidnapped by a man who takes you to a secluded cabin occupied by other men. They call themselves alphas, the only ones of their kind, and they are convinced that they can convert you (a normal human) to an omega in order to carry their young.They groom you and force themselves on you until you take their knot.

Little Pet by @ironlady1993

non-con, threesome, blackmail, swearing, dark!professor steve , dark!Professor !tony

#mcudarklibrary #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark tony stark #dark thor #dark loki #dark clint barton #dark stucky #dark marvel

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hogwartsambientfeverdream · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Moon Secrets

At long last, Saturday was here. Lily had vary little sleep last night. It felt like Friday night would never end, like the sun would never rise, like the moment of sleeping close to Scorpius would never come. She was used to him hugging out woth their family on holidays, butthat was different. No parents, not a lot of people. Rose came to pick her up with the invisibility cloak around 20.00. The sun had set for some hours now, and the full moon had finally started revealing. The boys were already by the lake setting the tent. The night passed quite lovely, they cooked soup and they boiled some herbs that Adrianne gave them. They were all playful with eachother but Lily clearly caught a glimpse of Scorpius looking at her, at multiple times. Her heart was racing and she was a bit more reserved than usual. Albus noticed it. He always does... Things are now quiet. Lily sat by the lake shore and looked up to sky in awe of how beautiful the moon was by that spot. This was her first time camping with them and now she understand perfectly why everyone insisted that the view of the moon is always better this way. But it isn’t just that. It’s also the castle standing next to the moon as if they are telling secrets to eachother. She could see all the lights from the windows of the castle, starting to disappear one by one slowly. People were going to bed. The castle was finally getting silent.

She could smell the water, the trees, the bushes. She could feel the energy of the moon. She looked to the mountains far away and started thinking of the next weekend already. It was their first trip to Hogsmeade this weekend and also Halloween. Adrianne stayed inside to prepare her costume and also because she was a little bit afraid of things like these... She began dreaming of things again. Things that she hopes would happen. Her walking side by side with Scorpius and accidentally but not really accidentally touching his hand, finding a way to be alone in the crowd and looking him in his beautifully melancholic grye eyes and kis.. “Hey you! Why are you sitting here all by yourself?”, Rose appeared from the bushes interrupting her thoughts. “Mind if I join you?”, she said smiling gently. “Sure”, there is plenty of room here”, Lily answered. Rose approached her and sat down next to her. She folded her legs and leaned forward to put her head to her knees, admiring the amazing view. She took a deep breath of calm satisfaction and smiled. That was probably Lily’s favourite thing about Rose. Her gentle little smile. She was never the loudest or the funniest of the family. Definately not like Albus. She was always very smart and quiet but very reserved, never letting it show up front. She was not shy, but she didn’t like to show off. Her smile though. That was what made her unique. You could always tell of the way she smirks, what she was about to say or do... For instance, Lily swore that Rose would start talking about the view and how calm she feels..

“You know, I am really going to miss this!”, Rose said while looking up to the castle. “The view?”, Lily answered satisfied with her guess earlier. “Hm”, Rose smiled gently and nodded negatively. “No, not the view, but the scenery itself. Me being part of it. Being a student running around in the corridors...”, she said and suddently her smile turned melancholic. “When you enter Hogwarts you believe you have so much time ahead of you and that at one point you will have experienced everything there is to experience... But honestly I don’t feel that way yet... I still haven’t been to every part of the castle, haven’t read most of the books in the library, haven’t walked all over every corner of the forest. I feel I need more time, you know... I am definately not done with this place and it frightens me that in a few months I must leave...” “I thought you said you wanted to leave and travel after Hogwarts... You know, like James”, Lily said a little confused. “Yes, of course I am going to do that... But for completely different reasons.. Not becaused I am tired of this place and I want to distance myself from it, but because I want to see what I can achive on my own you know... Not by my name or with the help of my family, but entirely by myself”, Rose answered inspired. “What do you mean? You have achieved a lot on your own. Yeah, I mean ok our family legacy sure is huge and sure is very recognizable, but your years here are your own.. right?”, Lily said being utterly baffled by Rose’s words. Rose smirked in a very sweet way once again. “Well, you see that’s not entirely true... I mean, sure, my achievements as a student are mine because I study hard and because I am interested, yes. But socially, I am a Granger-Weasley in Hogwarts. Sure, I have very good relationships with all my Ravenclaw roommates, but not really friendships... People respect me because of my name, not because of who I have proven to be to them. People want to get to know me because of my family’s legacy, not because of my interests necessarily. I have no close friends outside our family, because we take it for granted that we are all friends inside our family, and since everyone treats us as offsprings of historical figures and not as people, we stick with our family circle. I want to leave, because I want to meet people who want to know me, Rose, and not the daughter of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, the war heroes... I want to live experiences outside the cultural realm that has been shaped by our parents.” Lily finally understood. But at the same time she felt a little sad... “Well, what about, Scorpius? He is your friend, and at some point you two were pretty close... He is definately not our family...”, Lily asked. “Oh Scorpius...”, Rose said and took a deep breath. “Scorpius is Albus’ best friend, not mine. I am only friends with him because of Albus”, she said as she turned her head to look at the tent.

The light was still on, and they could both hear giggles coming from inside it. “Scorpius and Albus are made for eachother... Have no doupt about it. Scorpius is a shy gentle boy with a very sheltered upbringing due to his parents past and also being an only child, while Albus is a very extroverted and confident person who was raised to be free and do whatever he feels like it. What makes them different is what draws each person to the other.”, Rose said while looking at the tent in a very gentle but sad way, Lily noticed. “They are just meant to be together one way or the other, and the rest of us are just people that they may love or befriend regardless of their own relationship.”, Rose finished her sentence and turned to admire the castle again. Lily was temporarily confused. Rose spoke about her brother and Scorpius as if, somehow, sometime, made her feel uncomfortable... But why? They were always inseperable... Was it because of these two all along? She thought that they were all very good friends... It has always seemed like it,at least. Sure, Albus and Scorpous were always together and their friendship always insired her, but Rose made it seem like it them and no other person... Which is not true of course... Her, Adrianne and Hortansia were always welcome in their inner circle... “Did I make you feel sad, love?”, Rose turned to Lily and looked at her with all the sweetness of the world. This face right there, reminded her so much of her aunt coming to hug her when she was little and afraid of the thunder... “No, no... Not at all... I like talking with you... It feels like I am talking to an adult but at the same time equal, you know... James and Albus always talk to me as if I am a toddler...”, Lily answered. “Yeah, they do that sometimes...”, Lily laughed. “I am sorry for all that, it is just that I get very emotional when thinking about leaving Hogwarts.”

“Speaking of leaving Hogwarts soon, I an counting on you to watch out for Hortansia, right?”, Rose smiled. “I know she is doing perfectly fine without any help, but she always feels safer when family is close.” “You didn’t even need to say this out loud Rose.. Hortansia is like my sister! Like you are, too.. Don’t even mentiont that again!”, Lily smiled at her with warmth. “I feel a little bad that she didn’t come tonight, though..”, Rose said... “No, don’t even think about that! She loves sketching by the moonlight. She always does that when there is full moon.”, Lily reassured Rose. “Does she really does that here, too? I thought she only did that at home...”, Rose smirked... “Yeah, she does! Every time...”, Lily answered while smiling. “I really love her sketches.. We both agreed to have small tattoo one day made by her. You know, a sisterhood same tattoo... It was her idea.. And I think it’s really cute!”, Rose said proud of her talented little sister. “That’s a brilliant idea!”, Lily said in awe. She always wanted to have a tattoo but maybe when she gets a little older. James said that the older the better.. “Well, sounds like the boys have stopped fooling around! I think it’s time to get some sleep”, Rose said while getting up. “Are you coming?” “No, I think I want to enjoy the moonlight a little longer.”, Lily answered as she lied down in the rocky shore. “Ok, but don’t be late, ok? It’s getting cold out here!” “Ok, i’ll come in 10 minutes or so...” , Lily smiled as she closed her eyes “Ok then, goodnight Lily”, Rose said, as she disappeared behind the tent. “Goodnight!”

And just like that, she was alone again. She felt the moonlight on her face as her previous thoughts came back. This time though, she was a little troubled. Why was Rose telling all those things about the boys? They never seemed strange to her that way, she doesn’t really want to agree with her, but Rose knows them so much better! They ‘ve been together in Hogwarts for so many years before she came. They are also the same age... Lily was so confused... She always trusted Rose’s insight. She is very smart, but not like James or Albus smart... Rose is mature... Her brothers are very quick to understand a situation and to read right through people, but Rose does something more. She is not fooled by first impressions... She maturelly evaluates the situation and her conclusions and opinions are always far more deep and well-thought-out. In this case, she does want to listens on what she just told her, but if she does her instinct tells her that Scorpius is suddently out of reach... Up until some time ago, she thought things were pretty simple... But now, she suddently felt a huge weight in her stomach... What did Rose mean? Suddently she felt the moonlight gone. Puzzled, she opened her eyes.

“Hey there!”, Scorpius said calmly with a little smile on his face. “Were you asleep?” “Oh hi! Um, no no no, I was just daydreaming...”, Lily answered. He scared her standing like that with the moon behind him... “Aren’t you cold?” “Well, not really... This jacket is quite warm, surprisingly...” “How about taking a walk, then?”, Scorpius smiled and reached his hand for her. Lily took his hand and stood up. His face was so serene under the moonlight, his hair even more pale and glowy and his grey eyes even lighter and and more otherwordly. Scorpius was like an beautiful spitirual entity this evening and Lily was shaking from awe to his presence.

They walked by the shore, so as not to lose the moonlight and their path back to the tent. They started chatting about mundane matters while taking long pauses to enjoy their walk and the smell of the woods and lake. Lily was just happy to be near him. He took her hand and into the woods. Was that a move by his part? Was that a good moment for her to make her move? But what is a good move? What is she supposed to do? “Hey Lily?”, Scorpius asked, looking at her.. “Huh? Sorry I didn’t catch that..”, Lily said fully embarrassed. She really needs to stop sinking into her thoughts like that. “I asked, what were you talking about with Rose before? You both seemed so absorbed..”, Scorpius smirked and repeated his question. “Oh, well you know.. We mostly talked about her.. Rose expressed her anxities and her plans..”, she answered as discreetly as possible. “I didn’t know Rose had serious anxities aboout finishing school...”, Scorpius stared into the distance confused about his ability to connect with people he considers his friends. “Well, everyone has, right... I bet you do, too.. Even though some of them are burried very well, I think we all have..”, Lily looked at him. “Hah, you definately are all grown up talking so maturely...”, Scorpius answered trying to avoid the attention.. He does very well have those, and he hoped that they were burried as well as Lily hypothesized. “What about you, then... What are your anxities?”, he asked her trying to turn the tables. “Hah, well I don’t know... I thing my main concern is not hurting the people I love..”, Lily answered trying to hide her main one, which is trying to understand if she should confess her feelings or not... But she did gave a true answer, either way. She does fear hurting her loved ones, and she would do anything to not do that. Even if that meant that she might need to bear some hurt herself. “What about you, though?”, she asked knowing very well that he tried to dodge the subject earlier. “Me?”, he turnedd and looked at her intrigued. “Yes you..”, Lily answered very decisively. “Hah, I am not avoiding the question, am I? Well, I don’t know.. To tell you the truth I have never not have anxitites and concerns... You have to understand my upbringing was quite protective and even sometimes sheltered... My father is a very kind and loving dad, but he never talks about his past. Which, as you know, is the past that it is... When the conversation goes there, he just stops talking... As if he hasn’t accept it or hasn’t come to terms with it properly, even after all these years... And my mother is very protective of him, he always defence him when I ask him to tell me... I guess, he is afraid of giving me the wrong paradigm... So, I don’t know, even if I do notice that, I cannot avoid noticing that this behavior has creeped into mine. I am constantly trying bury things deep down but because I know that this is not a solution, I never bury them as deep and they are always in the surface trying to come out... But at the same time I don’t really let them...” Lily was looking at him fascinated. She never knew anything of what he just shared... Does Rose know all that? Does Albus? But what are all those sentiments trying to come out? Is it his feelings abour her? Or something else? “So, what is it?”, she asked surprised by her own courage. “What’s what?”, he asked her afraid of her reading right through him. “You know... All those things that you are trying to bury...” Scorpius was so afraid.. She knows! She knew all along! How does he tell her? He looked at her decisively... Well, if this is the moment to do so, he might as well go for it... He took a deep breath, and...

“Wait!”, Scorpius grabbed her arm and stopped walking abruptly. “What is it?”, Lily said surprised. “Didn’t you hear that? There is someone in the woods! We are not alone... Stay quiet!”, Scorpius said and tried to walk slowly as to detect if indeed someone else is there. These camping nights in the woods were always dangerous! They were always very carefull not to get caught. They would rarely leave the tent for long walks without the cloak... But now... He got so distracted by Lily that he completely forgot to take it with him.. He always really liked Lily, as his best friend’s little sister, but now things were different.. He feels a different kind of fondness now.. He likes talking to her, he feels calm... They walked quietly for a while, alarmed as to hide quickly if they detect anything... But their luck this time was not there...

As they were carefully walking, they suddently noticed some light. They stopped walking! And there they were... Three students wearing black cloaks and some bizarre wolf masks. They couldn’t hide this time... They were right in front of them... Neither of them could recognize who these students were... One of them was holding a shovel, the other one a package and the third one, the shorter one was looking at them, with their piercing light green eyes! They were certainly frightening! They noticed Lily and Scorpius right away! The rest of them finished their job and turned to Lily and Scorpius too! “Oh look! It’s young Bellatrix and handsome Voldemort! Look at them what a cute couple they are!”, the person with the pagkage said, laughing! “Hahaha!!! They could even have a cute evil child together someday!”, the person with the shovel said laughing, too “Well, it’s a pitty they are in the wrong side this time around....”, the first person continued The student with the piercing green eyes was standing there quietly still looking at them and smirking... “What is this garbage you are talking about? What is this?”, Scorpius said evidently bothered by their remarks but mostly confused of how confidently these people didn’t try to hide or run away...

“Well that’s obvious Malfoy, isn’t it?”, the person with the piercing green eyes said, smirking “What is?”, Scorpius asked confused and suddently having the worst feeling about this... Is that student...? “Yes, you handsome smart boy... I am what you just thought I am... And as for the other thing, the obvious reason why we really don’t care about you happening to bump into us is because if you say anyhting to the professors you are practically admiting your own mischiefs... And here lies the catch.. You don’t know who we are, but we certainly do know who you are! So keep your pretty little mouth shut and we are happy to cover for you and your Bellatrix impersonator girlfriend...” “You are an idiot!”, Lily said angrily “Well maybe, but so are you for walking around like that with no cover...”, the green-eyed student said... “So? Are we clear? It’s a win-win situation... You never saw us, and neither did we... Goodnight children..”

And just like that, still confident and smirking, they all turned around and started walking to the forest. They noticed two more wolf-masked students waiting for them. And they didn’t even seem to hurry all that much... This is what baffled Scorpius the most! Walking all giggling and laughing and not even trying to hide or be discreet... “See you in Halloween!” One of the taller students said laughing while Scorpius and Lily stood there watching them disappear into the woods... “What did they mean? What did you understand about them?”, Lily said quietly “I think the person who was talking is a Legilimens... You know, being able to hear people’s thoughts”, Scorpius said while still staring at their shadows in the distance. “Who are they?”, Lily asked “I have no idea... Besides the person with the green eyes and I think I saw deep wine red hair, I didn’t even notice anything else that could lead us to the others... The point is who they are, though, but what were they doing.. And what did they mean by that Halloween thing?”, Scorpius answered... “I think we should head back and try to get some sleep... Tomorrow morning we can discuss it further with Rose and Albus”, Lily said They started walking back quietly... This time, noone was talking... They were both deep into their thoughts. Scorpius wass still thinking about their earlier conversation, besides what happened... Lily, on the other hand, was thinking of what the wolf-masked students said... They called her Bellatrix, they implied that she looked like her... But why? Bellatrix almost killed her mother... Where did they see the comparison? Is it because of her wearing black clothes and gothy accessories? This is stupid, Lily thought. They kept on walking quietly... The moon was leading their way as if to help them. When they reached the tent they both went straight to bed bearly even exchanging any words. Scorpius closed his eyes, but Lily was still looking at him. What was it that he wanted to say to her earlier? And does this connect with what Rose told her earlier?

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caraidean · 6 years ago

Text

Breaking Point || Ishtar & Arvis

Participant(s): Ishtar, Arvis (@valflame)

Words: 3,200

Type: Cutscene / AU Divergence Point

Summary: Between the events of Thracia 776 and the final acts of Genealogy of the Holy War, Ishtar is told the truth around Julius’ bloodline and the true nature of his sickness by his father. She flies into a destructive rage, before swearing to try and change things.

Note: This thread was left incomplete, but was archived as the core concept is a major part of Ishtar’s “survives” AU, the default verse on this blog.

It hurt Ishtar to think this, but truth be told, she was glad that Julius was so busy these days. It meant that ever since they had returned from Thracia, she had time to herself, time to…think, and just process what he had said to her while they were there.

Why would he threaten Reinhardt so? That was the question that her mind was stuck on, endlessly cycling it through her thoughts. No matter how much she had explained why she cared for him - and certainly not in any romantic sense, either - or how she needed him, it was constantly rejected. Her beloved’s violent outburst and threat to kill him should he so much as see him again was…

“What happened to him?” She wondered, aloud. She knew he had fallen in with the Loptyrians, that he had had a hand in the death of his mother and Julia’s vanishing, but she had always thought there was a reason behind it. Perhaps Lady Deirdre had rejected his faith and attacked him over it? After all, Lord Arvis had insisted that Manfroy and the others were being unfairly oppressed, maybe even sweet Deirdre had been prejudiced against them…

But Reinhardt? The man was her best friend, had been her protector since childhood. Strictly platonic feelings for him or not, she trusted him with her life to an extreme extent, and would have thought that the trust she had in him would have somewhat endeared the man to Julius. It wasn’t that she was unaware of his feelings towards her, she wasn’t blind, but she also knew he would never act on them.

“You used to be so kind.” She said aloud, and then she froze when she realized she wasn’t alone. Slowly, prepared for the worst - prepared for her beloved, or one of his pet soldiers - she turned, shoulders only relaxing a little at the sight of who was standing before her.

“Lord Arvis. Forgive me, I was…thinking aloud.”

⊰ ♖ ⊱

His joints hurt.

It was the joints in his right arm hurting specifically, particularly his elbow and wrist. Crossing blows with his son a couple years prior hadn’t ended particularly favourably for him; a sort of almost arthritic ache lingered in the bones long after the damage had been dealt and had technically healed over, and it was entirely due to it that the emperor had chosen to slink out of his office and slip quietly through the castle corridors toward one of the enclosed inner courtyards where he might find himself an herbal remedy to alleviate a bit of the discomfort in search of medicine. Instead he found a female figure sitting atop an open stone slab situated between a pair of corinthian columns marking the entryway into one of the gardens wreathed in silver hair, and for a split second he stiffened up and mistakenly thought that perhaps he’d caught a glimpse of his missing daughter or perhaps the ghost of his late wife before recognising her as his youngest child’s fiancée. That, too, was at least still enough on its own to give him pause; as warmly as he felt toward her, Julius still kept him under quite literal literal lock and key whenever he wasn’t being ordered to move out to any specific location by the imperial prince. People of actual substantial power within his son’s innermost circle were seldom ever brought into the same space as him unless he himself was nearby, but Julius had made things clear to him that he’d intended on spending some time in Thracia and perhaps Miletos for a while. It was always possible that he’d simply been lying, but to see her alone the way she was and speaking the way she’d been was just a little…

"Ishtar… What a pleasant surprise. How… Are things??”

Was that appropriate to ask when she so clearly looked and sounded troubled? At risk of impeding on any boundaries Arvis lifted a hand, slowly gripping his arm in an effort to coax a bit of the soreness out of it before taking a tentative step in the young lady’s direction. Ishtar was a lovely girl. He was fond of her, fond in the sense that he’d have happily welcomed her as a daughter-in-law in a different world, in a different time, in a different realm where things didn’t wind up quite so… Abysmal for the world. The girl looked upset; he, as someone who appreciated her and enjoyed her company, naturally wanted to put an end to it.

"… Under normal circumstances I would offer you a drink and ask exactly what it is that brings you to Velthomer, but you seem… Disturbed by something. What… Or who, I would assume — who is it that’s bothering you?? Surely between your might and General Reinhart’s fealty to you there shouldn’t be anyone capable of harassing you…”

It was strange, she realized. Despite being in Velthomer, she had expected to have seen Arvis far more often by now - but this was their first encounter since she returned here. She hesitated, wondering how much she should say, as the only reasoning she could come up with this is if Julius was trying to keep them apart… No, that was nonsense. The man was his father, surely the boy couldn’t be that far gone?

He’d had a hand in his mother’s death. He absolutely could be.

“Your Imperial Highness, it is good to see you again.”

Ishtar forced her logic away, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Eventually she opened them again, standing up and politely curtsying to the man. Recluse these days or not, he was still the true Emperor even with Julius’ ascent, and deserved a certain degree of respect. Her eyes flickered up to his face, scanning it and surprised when she saw pain in his eyes. She was about to ask what was wrong with him, concern on her face, when he asked his question and she paused. Color drained from her face, and she glanced around to make sure they were alone, shoulders slumping.

“I…it’s…” She struggled with the words, trying to think how much she was comfortable sharing with the man. She took a stumbling step back, pressing her back against one of the columns and closing her eyes again. She could hear the thread reverberating in her mind now that he asked, and a tear ran down her face before she managed to get her emotions back under control again. “…Julius. Our time in Thracia was…It…he…”

She shook her head, forcibly attempting to regain some kind of emotional balance. She would not come off as some kind of babbling traumatized child to her future father-in-law, she refused to suffer that indignity. It was rapidly approaching the point where her dignity was one of the few freedoms she had left, and she would rather die than give it up to something as simple as her emotions.

“…General Reinhardt and I are…forcibly separated.” She said eventually, deciding to simply come clean. Julius wasn’t here, and she had to hope that any spies who could overhear their conversation in the garden entrance would be more loyal to Arvis than Julius and the Loptyrian church. “At Prince Julius’ command. He has made it clear that if he sees the two of us together again, he will immediately order his execution, if not perform it himself.”

She felt a slight amount of the weight on her shoulders lift at being able to talk about this, even if her emotions threatened to run rampant again. A hand rested on her forehead, face twisting in anguish as she forced the next few words out. “He wouldn’t listen to me when I said I trusted him. He’s my oldest friend…Arvis, what’s changed? He never used to get so jealous. One moment he was speaking of spoiling me for one of my mother’s dances, and the next he was threatening to strip away everything I thought important. What happened to him?”

⊰ ♖ ⊱

Julius? Julius was… So then even Ishtar, who he claimed ( and genuinely seemed, at least to him )to love more dearly than any other, wasn’t exempt from his tormenting? A hand flitted against his lips in silence, his brow furrowing the slightest bit as he attempted to conceal some of the mute frustration pooling in his face. That… That couldn’t possibly be right. Could it? Julius had been unimaginably cruel for some time now, committing heinous, unspeakable acts seemingly daily, but to bring his beloved to tears was something that seemed especially surprising. Had he really been that lost? Was he so far gone into his possession that he’d stooped to slowly placing Ishtar into some sort of social cage? Was… Was it really surprising for what it was, or was it more because he thought he’d have more time before the boy became so rotten and cold? He’d slaughtered his own mother, actively attempted to hunt his missing sister down to put an end to her in the same manner, kept his father locked within a castle like a wicked stepmother might a young maiden in an old children’s fable — his son was… Unkind. To everyone. Arvis wanted to brush her tears away and to console her, but to what end? For what purpose? He cared about her; he’d cared for Deirdre and for Julia too, and look how far his care had gotten the both of them. Ishtar at least seemed not to know a thing, though. If he owed anything to Ishtar, it was the… Truth.

There was a sudden tremor to his fingertips as he drew them away from his face, his knuckles white with a new sort of tension. He’d never told the truth before, but she was… His son’s fiancée. She… And she was…

"… I know what happened.”

Emperor Arvis exhaled slowly through his teeth and turned himself away, taking a brief recess to quietly sidle up to a vine of honeysuckle to nudge a few of the blooms closer to his face. Their sweet scent was perhaps one of his favourite things to taste on the air. They reminded him of his childhood and of time spent with his mother and, later, with Azelle’s mother within the courtyards, splitting bread and jams in an attempt to enjoy some of the daylight before his father or some foreign politicians came in and inevitably ruined it all. Perhaps, in a different life, he might’ve… He could have…

"You… Won’t enjoy hearing it. I’m… I’ve never… It should put everything into perspective for you. At the very least, I’d… I’d like to at least save you from feeling so lost and confused. My son isn’t… Himself. He has not been for quite some time now. You’re well aware of the fact that he’s close to an Archbishop of the Loptyr Sect named Manfroy, aren’t you?? In my younger days he was something of an… Advisor to me. Make no mistake; I have always hated him. He has hounded me for the entirety of my adult life, and forced me into situations so dreadful I fear I cannot begin to recount them all without robbing you of any daylight left to us today. I simply had no choice in keeping him around. He was blackmailing me, you see, over my heritage and the fact that I… That I’m… … Ishtar… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t hesitate, but you’re going to see me as… Crusader Fjalar’s blood isn’t… The only blood that flows through my veins. A figure known as Saint Maera is another ancestor of mine, though his saga has largely been lost to time outside of the Spirit Forest of Verdane. I’mLoptyr blooded.

… I’m not sure if you can recall it with much ease, but in years long past, prior to my becoming emperor, I… People like me weren’t allowed to exist. We were to be burnt at the stake on sight. I was — or Iassumed I was — the last blood descendant of the Dark God, but I learnt far too late that my wife was also—…

… When I tell you Julius is not himself, I mean it literally. He only inherited minor Fjalar blood from me… He has major Loptyr blood. The Dark God has made itself at home within his body. I believe he fights it in his own way when some aspects of his old self shine through, but lately… He’s growing colder. Loptyr is… Loptyr is the one residing under his skin, not my son. As soon as he made contact with that eerie black book Manfroy brought him he changed. He killed my wife because she was Naga-blooded… He attempted to do the same of his sister, and with me he’s been beating and forcing and enacting laws that I could never—

… Do you… Understand what it is I’m trying to tell you??”

Ishtar forced herself to calm as he began his explanation, stepping away from the wall and into the gardens proper. She brushed her hands over the leaves of the bushes, tugging her gloves off and revealing long slight gashes along her forearms from where her nails had gouged flesh, scratching herself as she watched her mother torment her aunt and cousin. Julius had disliked being reminded of them, given her the gloves as a gift and quietly asking her to always keep them on, and that memory seemed to take on a darker tone with everything else he had done recently. Just as he’d sent Reinhardt away, he had covered up her scars, as if he had been trying to mold or groom her into an image in his head…

“I’m listening anyway.” She said quietly, pausing next to a bush of violets and staring at the flowers as he talked. She wasn’t sure what explanation she was expecting, but as far as she was aware there were only two potential options. One was that he was sick in the head, like the healers whispered about her mother - something wrong with his brain, causing him to be erratic and controlling. A sickness she could understand and cope with, maybe even help him through it. The other, darker one, was that her suspicions about the cult’s true actions were real - that Manfroy and his ilk hadn’t just converted him to their religion, but were trying to use him as a tool, and in turn they were turning him against her. Isolating her, making her malleable, for whatever purpose she knew not. She could never have braced herself for his words, however, and his revelations were far worse than she could have feared.

“…Maera…?”

She knew the name, didn’t she? Some distant memory, a book deep in Friege’s archives that she had stumbled on by mistake. He was Loptyr blooded? Wait…his wife was as well? Which meant that the union between the Lady Deirdre and Arvis was…oh, gods. So Julius really was sick in the head, she realized at first before he finished the explanation, feeling her stomach churn with nausea. She’d heard that the children born of such unions between family could be twisted, some revenge from higher powers for an unholy act, and her nausea was tinged with sympathy for Arvis for not realizing until far too late. The nausea turned to rage, however, as he spoke of the possession. She fell very quiet, closing her eyes and fingers trembling as Arvis laid out the cult’s plan, and suddenly she could see it all - and a small cry escaped her. So…Julius was gone, and it was no sickness, and he truly had been as kind and lovely as she remembered. Her beloved was dead or missing, likely never to return, and the one to blame was-

“NO!”

Ishtar didn’t know if it was a trait of Tordo’s bloodline, or an issue with every descendant of the crusaders. Her father had told her long ago that the reason so many of Mjolnir’s other users were so cold, calculating, detached from others was because the tome was reactive, and wielders risked losing control. She had privately scoffed at his words, dismissing it as a poor excuse to explain how he never stepped into protect his own sister from his wife’s torments, but now she realized he must have spoken truly. Lightning was coursing from her hands, blasting craters in the garden and burning flowers in her outburst, blue light flickering from her arms and hair as the storm raged in Velthomer’s garden. It lasted a few seconds, the girl eventually reigning it in, but not before the portion of the gardens immediately around her were reduced to a scorched wasteland, grass brown and black as it smoldered. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and sobbing as she sank to her knees, nails starting to drag down her forearms like they used to, leaving more scores as she shuddered.

Julius…you’re gone? She thought to herself in a daze. She felt a brief moment of regret for the ruin she had brought to Arvis’ garden, and more than a fleeting concern that the outburst would likely bring guards running to find out what had happened, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. Instead she was flooded with memories, what she remembered her beloved acting like, the constant sicknesses that she now knew must have been brought on by his parent’s relation, and his change…and she knew why he had changed, now. She knew who was responsible for taking her beloved away from her, trapping her in a relationship with a monster - a literal monster. She wasn’t engaged to her beloved Julius anymore, she realized, and suddenly the isolation and his words made sense, trapping her near him…with nobody else…a tool of the Dark God. No escape, no friends, no family, no lover-

“Oh, Julius.” She said quietly, and her sobs intensified, tears running down her face as she hung her head in despair. She could remember every time he’d ever been kind to her, from when they were children and playing, when they had started to get older and the engagement was made, to when she had turned eighteen while he was still fifteen and he had laughed and teased her for growing up faster than him, he talked of his worries that she would leave him for another ‘grownup’ instead of waiting, and she’d promised she would wait because she knew he was going to be so kind and just, despite the stress he was under and the crueler demands he was starting to make…

Manfroy. Manfroy.

“I’m going to kill him.” She mumbled between cries, slowly raising her head and glaring at Arvis’ direction through a film of tears. Her eyes shone, lightning crackling around her nails again as she threatened to lose control of Mjolnir a second time, and it was hard for an observer to tell if her gaze was sorrow, hate, or a mix of the two. “If he really took him from me…Arvis, I’m going to kill him.”

#History Had Its Eyes On You;Thread Archive #Goddess of Lightning;Ishtar #valflame #You’re Still In There Somewhere;Ishtar & Julius #Forwards!;In Character #Thunder's Memories;Ishtar Thread Archive

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danfanciesphil · 7 years ago

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L’Histoire Française (New Chapter)

Teacher AU (Part 10)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Part Seven)

(Part Eight)

(Part Nine)

(Now Available on Ao3!)

“Sir, can you tell me how to conjugate verbs?”

“Hm?” Dan says, distracted.

He’s crouched beside a Year Eight student named Anna, a sweet young girl with a few learning disabilities. This period, he’s helping out in the Rainbow Rooms - a section of the school reserved for providing extra support to students that might need it. Anna suffers from Down Syndrome, and has dyslexia, so she’s somewhat of a regular here. Usually, aside from Phil’s classes, Dan’s absolute favourite lessons to assist in are these.

The kids here are all at different levels of progress, so their teacher is more of a supervisor than anything else. The students are told to get on with the work provided by teachers from their actual classes, and Dan and the other TA’s are asked to wander around the class and help with whatever they might need.

Soft, classical music is played to help concentration, and the classroom is decorated in soothing pastel colours, making it very aesthetically pleasing. Usually, these lessons pass by in a calm, tranquil breeze. Today however, Dan does not feel particularly relaxed. The Chopin playing is weaving under his skin, the sharp violin creeping beneath his fingernails, putting him on edge.

There’s a coloured-glass windchime rattling beside the open window, and the sound of the tinkling is making him cringe. He turns his attention to Anna’s workbook, trying to force himself to concentrate.

“I thought I’d remembered how to do it, but it’s confusing,” Anna says, sighing.

“Oh, right,” Dan says, refocusing. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

He reads over the page, not taking anything in, and then reads it again, tutting at himself.

“Right, so verbs - that’s just the term we use for ‘doing words’.”

Anna scoffs at him. “I know that. I’m not stupid, Mr Howell.”

Dan laughs, glancing at her annoyed expression. “I know, Anna, I’m sorry. I’m the nonce here, not you. I just need to spell it out for myself sometimes.”

“We’re gonna be here all day at this rate,” Anna says.

Dan laughs again. “Hopefully not. So, um, conjugating… well, I bet you’re doing it without even realising. Think of a verb.”

“Break,” Anna says, unexpectedly.

Dan blinks at her. “Break?”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “It’s break-time soon. It’s the first thing I thought of.”

“Well, break-time is a noun…” Dan says, mind already slipping back into a panic as he considers how close break-time really is, and all that it might entail.

“Yes,” Anna says, exasperated. “But break is a verb, too. To break a glass. To break into dance. To break a heart.”

Dan swallows. “Yep, um… okay. You’re right. As usual.”

Anna beams proudly. “It’s like I’m teaching you today, sir.”

“So, how would you conjugate the verb ‘break’ if you put the pronoun ‘he’ in front of it?”

“He breaks,” Anna says at once. “Ohhh, I get it.”

Dan nods, smiling weakly. “Try and put it in a sentence.”

“He breaks your heart.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Great,” Dan grits out. “Try and write a few sentences down.”

Dan thinks about getting coffee again, but he knows he’d just be stalling for time. He doesn’t need to be any more caffeinated for this, anyway. He walks slowly through the halls, urging a teacher to spot him and force him to do some menial task for the next twenty minutes.

He doesn’t even know what it is that he’s wanting to avoid, but his gut is telling him it’s nothing good.

As if fate specifically told everyone to leave Dan alone today, no teachers even spare him a glance. He’s left with the full twenty minutes of free time, which has not happened in days.

He finds himself outside of Phil’s classroom door far too soon.

He knocks out of politeness, and hears a familiar voice call, “Come in!”

He pushes open the door. Phil is sat at his desk, frowning at his sticker-covered laptop, open before him. There are no cat whiskers on his face, today. There’s nothing zany on the whiteboard. The classroom is actually rather mess-free, unusually.

“Hey,” Dan says. His voice is smaller than he means it to be.

Phil looks up at him, closing the lid of his laptop. “Hey.”

Dan shifts from foot to foot, feeling awkward. How is it that just yesterday he strolled in here full of pep and happiness, and let Phil kiss him against the closed classroom door?

“You wanted to talk-”

“How are you today?” Phil interrupts, voice strained. “I didn’t get to ask, earlier.”

“Um,” Dan says, thrown. “Fine. Well, I’m a bit…” Dan flaps his hand in the air, a demonstration of his inner turmoil. “Can you just tell me what John said to you this morning? Before I came in.”

Phil’s eyes are pained, as if he’s begging Dan not to ask. Dan kind of wants to listen to those eyes, to just stall for time and exchange pleasantries until the bell rings again and they have to postpone this talk until lunch.

But he can’t live with the anxiety, so he stares Phil down.

Phil sighs, relenting.

“Can you… sit down?”

Dan takes a deep breath, and closes the door behind him. He takes one of the student chairs and pulls it up to the desk, opposite Phil. It feels strange, to sit this way. It reminds him, weirdly, that Phil is technically his boss, which is a bizarre thought, considering he’s never really acted as superior to Dan.

Dan sits straight and tense, waiting for Phil to speak. He doesn’t, so Dan jumps in for him.

“We’re not going out tonight, are we?”

Phil reaches up and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes. He slides them back on, and clears his throat, looking very much like he doesn’t want to reply.

He drags his eyes back up to Dan, tortured. It’s unexpected, when Phil reaches across the desk for his hand, but he slips his own into it anyway, helpless to refuse.

“We can’t,” Phil says at last. “I-I’m so sorry, Dan. This is all my fault.”

He trails off, eyes fixed on their joined hands.

“What did John say?” Dan asks again, though he thinks, deep down, he already knows.

Phil sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “He said… apparently there’s a rumour going around amongst the students. Specifically the ones that were on the Paris trip.”

“Lemme guess, one student in particular?” Dan says, bitterness infiltrating his words.

He really will have to kill Jonah Frank at this rate.

“He didn’t say,” Phil says. “I don’t think it’s fair to blame any of them, though. They’re just kids.”

“So what’s the rumour?” Dan asks, tilting his chin up in defiance.

Phil looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “You know what it is, Dan.”

Dan just holds his gaze, needing this spelled out if he’s expected to accept it.

Phil sighs. “The rumour is that two of the teachers on that trip were… fraternising, let’s say.”

“Okay,” Dan says, brows knitting. “But why does it even matter? It wouldn’t affect anything. And we didn’t even-”

“It’s against school policy,” Phil interrupts, his cheeks a little pink. “That’s what John came to tell me this morning.”

Dan just stares at him, speechless. “It’s…”

“Yeah,” Phil says. He releases his hold on Dan’s hand, leaning back in his chair. He combs a hand through his hair. Dan flexes his fingers, feeling the absence of Phil’s at once. “There’s a rule about it. No romantic relationships between faculty members.”

“But I’m… I’m just a TA, I mean-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil cuts in. “John made it clear. It could affect our performance, and the kids’ safety, apparently, if it were true.”

Dan swallows hard, tears of frustration leaping into his ducts. He feels helpless, like a child being disciplined for something he hasn’t even done wrong. How can it be fair that the Universe gave him Phil on a beautiful, gilded platter… and then snatched him back again, before they’d even gotten a chance to be together, properly?

“What do you mean, ‘if it were true’?”

“That’s the thing,” Phil says. “At the moment it’s just a rumour. Student claims can’t be substantiated without evidence. If they could, we wouldn’t have jobs anymore.”

“What?!” Dan exclaims. “We’d be fired over this? But… that’s not fair! We didn’t even know-”

“I knew.”

There’s a pause as Dan tries to comprehend this.

“You knew,” he repeats.

Phil puts his head in his hands. He peers at Dan through his fingers. “Yes.”

Dan scrapes his chair backwards, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. He wants to run out of here, to find some fresh air and gulp down lungfuls of it, but at the same time he doesn’t want to be away from Phil.

“Dan, please understand,” Phil begs, leaning across the desk towards him. “I knew about the rule, but I didn’t think… at first I just thought it was harmless flirting, and that I wouldn’t let it go any further, but then you came to my house, and you kept being so sweet… and then you said all that stuff to me on the boat, and I just… I snapped. I couldn’t take it, I had to kiss you, to show you that it wasn’t just you, y’know?”

Dan stares at him, shell-shocked. How can something as simple as an unrequited crush have suddenly become so horribly complicated?

“You could’ve told me,” Dan says after a minute, his mind whirling. “At the very least, you could have told me the risk. Maybe then we’d have hidden it better.”

“It’s no use, Dan,” Phil says, his voice desperately sad. He’s probably been over this in his mind a hundred times already. “By the time we… y’know… it was already too late. The kids had already made up their minds about what they wanted to think. After that night on the boat, I woke up in your bed, and you were still sleeping next to me. You had this sweet little smile on your face. And I just lay next to you and tried and tried to think of how we could make it work. I thought maybe John might overlook it because we’re friends, or that you being a TA rather than a teacher might change things, but it didn’t.”

“So that’s it, then,” Dan surmises, nodding blankly. A numbness is spreading across his skin, ice cold. “There are no options for us. Apart from one.”

“I’ve been racking my brain ever since we got home,” Phil confesses. “I thought maybe I could….” he sighs, shaking his head. “John isn’t sure of anything yet. He’s just suspicious because of what the kids are saying. We can still keep our jobs, as long as we…”

His sentence trails off, but it’s all too clear what he means.

As long as we end it now.

Whatever it was.

“I’ll quit my job,” Dan declares, eyes shining with defiance. “I never wanted it anyway, I only applied here as a last resort-”

Phil is already shaking his head. “You can’t do that, Dan. You don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s the middle of the school year, no other schools will take you. And you need the money. Not to mention, the kids need you.”

Dan scoffs at this last objection, but slumps in his chair, knowing the rest to be true. If he quit this job, he’d be penniless and jobless. His rent is due soon, and he’s only just going to be able to scrape by as it is. Paris, whilst free on travel and accommodation, was not cheap.

“This isn’t fair,” Dan whispers, looking up at the ceiling to try and prevent the tears from coming. “I just got you.”

Phil presses his lips together. “If I could do something to change it, I would.” He draws his hands to his lap. “Anything. I’d do anything.”

“I almost wish you’d never kissed me at all,” Dan says.

Phil looks at him like he’s been punched, and Dan wants to hoover the words back up.

“Almost,” Dan reiterates, his voice weak.

For once, Dan is glad he doesn’t have any classes with Phil on Wednesdays. He spends the rest of his day in a daze, barely able to function, let alone assist classes particularly well. In his fourth period he has Jonah for IT, but he avoids him, sticking by a student struggling with Excel on the other side of the class.

As the class files out, Jonah approaches him.

“Are you pissed at me or somethin’, sir?”

“Don’t be silly, Jonah,” Dan says, not looking him in the eye.

I don’t think it’s fair to blame any of them, Phil had said. They’re just kids.

“You usually say hello to me,” Jonah points out. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“I have to go, actually,” Dan says. It probably isn’t the best way to handle the situation, but he can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him break down in tears. “See you next class.”

He can feel Jonah staring after him as he hurries out of the classroom.

There is one staff bathroom in the school, located just off the staffroom itself. It’s unisex, with three cubicles and three sinks. There is hardly ever anyone in it, and Dan doesn’t really know why. He thinks it might be because the caretakers only restock the soap and toilet paper infrequently. More likely though, it’s just because the staff tend to forget it’s there. The school has four other sets of student toilets, two on each floor. Most of them are probably a lot nearer to teachers’ classrooms, so they don’t need to trek down to the staffroom to relieve themselves.

Dan has a lot of time to think about all this, huddled in the farthest stall of the empty staffroom toilet for a full hour at lunch time. Nobody comes in for the entire time he’s there, and he’s incredibly thankful, because if they did, he’d have to explain why he’s been curled up in here all this time, not to mention his red, splotchy face.

He just needed to let it out, he’d told himself when he first snuck in here, one hour ago. Just a quick cry, and then back to work.

As it turns out, this was a foolish decision on his part. As soon as the cubicle door shut, Dan had burst into noisy sobs. His knees jellified beneath him, and he’d slipped to the ground.

The thoughts attacked him in their thousands. Every single naive little fantasy he’d conjured up over the past couple of days wormed its way into Dan’s head, only to be smashed to pieces by the reverberating gong-noise of Phil’s voice saying: ‘We can’t do this.’

He and Phil, walking Buffy through the park on a summer afternoon, holding hands as she skipped around their feet.

He and Phil, snuggled on his sofa, watching old anime classics and kissing in the bits they’ve seen a thousand times.

He and Phil, hot and feverish, tangled in the sheets of Dan’s bed, trying to be quiet and failing miserably.

He and Phil, sending each other silly texts during their work days, sappy messages about how much they miss each other, even though they’re right down the hall.

All of these scenarios, the thousands that Dan has created in his head since he met Phil - they’re all gone. Shattered into a million shards by a stupid rumour, an even stupider rule, and then blown away in a gust of wind.

It’s crazy, Dan thinks, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He’s reacting as if they’d been together for years. In reality, Phil was never even his to start with.

What did they have, that’s lost, really? A stolen kiss on a riverboat, fumbling and cold. A gropey make out session on a hard single bed. Some flirting and blushing, acting like the schoolkids they were supposed to be looking after. Another kiss, pressed against a closed classroom door.

Fragments of something that turned into nothing. A fleeting romance, killed by the bureaucratic system within which they both found one another. It’s nonsensical, to be so upset by something that never even was.

Not bothered with sense in the slightest, his heart aches.

The worst part is that Dan is going to have to find a way to carry on. He will have to walk the same halls as Phil, every day. He’ll have to help Phil in class twice a week, and let the cheeky comments the students make slide off his back like it doesn’t affect him. He’ll see Phil making coffee in the staffroom, or buying secret cookies at lunch.

Even thinking of Phil is enough to make Dan’s heart pang. It’s enough to bring more tears to his eyes. How can he be expected to cope, seeing him so often, for real, in the weeks, months ahead?

It occurs to Dan, as the bell rings, that one lunch hour is simply not enough time to deal with the emotions rampaging in his poor, stricken head.

“Dan, do you want in on the Dominos order?”

Teddy’s voice is muffled through the closed door of Dan’s bedroom, and even more so by the covers pulled over Dan’s head. He lifts them off briefly, pausing his episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“No, thanks.”

There’s silence then, so Dan turns back to his laptop, un-pausing it.

“Are you alright in there?” Teddy calls, forcing Dan to pause Buffy again. “You’re not sick are you?”

“I’m fine, Teddy.”

“I could bring you some soup, or-”

“I said I’m fine,” Dan shouts, hurling a pillow at the door.

“Alright, jeez.” Teddy says. “And I thought Ty was the drama queen in this house.”

He hears footsteps retreating, and he sighs. Buffy stares at him out of the screen, fearsome and beautiful. Her wooden stake is raised at shoulder height, ready to strike and kill.

“Must be nice to have something to stab whenever you need it,” Dan mutters to himself, and presses the space-bar.

He’s watched seven episodes already since he got in. That must be some kind of record. It’s been an okay distraction, as things go, but he can’t help being reminded of Phil, just because it’s his favourite.

He hasn’t eaten anything since this morning, but the thought of food is making him queasy, so he’s ignoring the fact he probably should. Even Dominos isn’t enough to tempt him.

Just as Buffy drives her stake into the heart of the third vampire this episode, Dan’s phone buzzes, lost somewhere in his duvet cocoon. He roots around for it, and brings it up to his face to see.

Phil *video file*

Dan frowns at his screen, his heart skipping when he reads the name. He opens his messages.

The video Phil has sent him is a link to a Vine, uploaded onto YouTube. He clicks it, curious, and watches a six second clip of a corgi twerking to Snoop Dogg’s ‘Wiggle’. He snorts with laughter, not expecting it, and clicks back onto his messages with Phil.

Dan r u looking at dog vines when u should be lesson planning again

Just before he hits send, his thumb hovers above the screen, his mind catching him. Exchanging witty banter with Phil over text is not going to make this situation any easier. Perhaps the best thing to do is just ignore it and move on.

He hits send.

“I have no self control,” Dan says aloud, groaning.

Phil ...no

Phil *video file*

This time it’s a baby sloth falling out of a tree. It lands in a pile of moss, unhurt, blinking in surprise. Dan giggles to himself beneath the darkness of his duvet.

Dan Stop texting me and get back to work

Phil but i miss you

The smile slips off Dan’s face.

Dan u cant say that to me

Phil sorry

Not knowing how to respond, Dan just locks his phone, placing it to one side as Willow and Xander flip through some ancient lore. The phone whispers to him, begging him to text again, but he stays strong, though it kills him a little.

Phil what are you doing? o.o

Dan srsly phil if u wanna break this off u cant send me cute texts

Dan its too hard as it is

Dan im already gonna have to see you every day and pretend like im not miserable

Phil you’re miserable?

Dan of course i am

Phil me too.

Phil *video file*

Phil that might be the actual reason im looking at cute animal vines

Dan is it working?

Phil no :(

Dan clicks the link Phil sent him with a sigh. It’s a video of a Pomeranian in a party hat, scoffing a cake with the words ‘Happy Birthday Pom Pom’ written on the top. Its cute little face is covered in white frosting.

Dan tht dog looks a bit like Buffy

Dan mayb u should turn her into a vine star

Phil vine is dead dan

Phil and buffy says she’s too good for vine anyway

Dan hahaha. tell buffy i miss her

Phil buffy misses you too.

There’s a stinging sensation in Dan’s left eye. He can feel a lump positioning itself in the middle of his throat. Dan rolls onto his back then, his right hand coming up to ghost over the bruise at the base of his neck.

It’s all he has left of Phil now. In a few weeks, it’ll have faded, and then what will he have to remind himself that this was real? A few half-faded memories? A couple of texts?

It’s not enough, he thinks, a tear leaking out of his duct. It slides down his temple, splashing onto the pillow behind his skull.

His phone buzzes again.

Phil *picture message*

Dan opens it warily. As the image flashes up, he lets out a pained little noise.

The photo is of Phil, in his muppet pyjama trousers and a black Pink Floyd t-shirt. He’s got Buffy under one arm, and she’s licking his face, making him laugh. His other hand is taking the photo.

He looks so soft, so homely. He looks just as Dan dreamed he would, in the fantasies where he and Phil lounge around his pretty, colourful house together, in casual clothes or pyjamas, Buffy clambering over their laps.

Dan a low blow phil

Phil Buffy insisted on sending u a selfie

Phil i just helped her

Dan buffy is such a tease

Dan she looks very cute in that photo

Dan i really really wish she was here

Phil she wishes that too.

On Thursday morning, Dan is sitting at his own kitchen table, sipping coffee and debating whether to call in sick to work. He’s got around fifteen minutes still, before he has to walk to catch his bus. It’s not very often that he isn’t rushing to get out of the door, but he woke up early and his anxious mind wouldn’t let him get back to sleep.

He takes another sip of coffee, staring at his phone.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be that suspicious, if he were ‘sick’ suddenly. John might be a little annoyed, as he didn’t work Monday either, because they were coming back from Paris.

At that moment, Tyler strolls into the room, immaculate and pristine in his navy suit. He looks at Dan in surprise, walking to the fruit bowl to grab an apple.

“Dan!” He says brightly. “You’re up early.”

Dan just nods slowly, still thinking.

Tyler takes a bite of the apple, leaning against the counter. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Dan says distractedly.

“It’s just, usually you’re tearing around the house at this time, looking for your other sock, or a tie, screaming at me that you’re gonna miss your-”

“Look, I’m up on time for once, okay?” Dan snaps. “No need to alert the media, I’m not always a total fucking mess, you know.”

Tyler stops chewing, eyes wide. He lets out a low whistle. “Fucking hell, no need to bite my head off.”

Dan shuts his eyes, breathing out slowly. He can feel the irritation sitting beneath his skin, but he shoves it down as best he can.

“Sorry,” he grits out, scraping his chair backwards. “We can’t all be morning people.”

He throws the remainder of his coffee down the sink, splashing it everywhere. Tyler jumps back from the spray, looking at his suit jacket in alarm.

“What’s up with you, Dan?” Tyler asks, sounding a little annoyed. “I thought you were on cloud fucking nine at the moment. Why are you being such a twat to us?”

Dan just grabs a cloth, wiping up the coffee he just splashed everywhere, his teeth clamped shut.

“Dan, if you don’t tell me what’s up your ass, I’ll-”

“What?” Dan asks, spinning round to glare at him. “You’ll annoy me to death? You do that just fine anyway.”

Tyler looks momentarily angry, but it passes quickly. He places the apple to one side, his expression melting into one of sympathy.

“It’s hot teacher, isn’t it,” he surmises, his voice filled with pity. “Did something happen?”

Dan wants to shout at him. He wants to yell that it’s none of his fucking business, and that he should butt his big head out of it. Instead, he opens his mouth to scream, and instead starts to cry.

He takes one step and falls straight into Tyler’s chest, sniffling. Tyler holds him readily, not hesitating for a moment, his arms coming round Dan’s back.

“Aw, Dan, love,” Tyler says softly. “You’re gonna get my suit all damp.”

“You can stand one day of looking not-perfect, Ty,” Dan says, sniffling.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dan sighs, leaning away from him. Tyler’s arm stays on his back, rubbing lightly. “It’s over, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand,” Tyler says. “I thought you were so into one another?”

Dan shrugs, checking his watch. “Things got in the way.”

“Things?” Tyler asks, confused. “I don’t-”

“Look, Ty, thanks for being nice, but I have to go.”

“Sweetie, if you need to talk about this-”

“Yeah, um, later,” Dan says vaguely. “I’ve got to catch my bus.”

“Wait,” Tyler calls, just as Dan is about to bolt out of the door. He pauses, turning back, despite really wanting to flee this conversation. “Don’t you have a class with him today?��

Dan nods dejectedly. “Third period.”

“Shit,” Tyler says, pitying. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

The one time Dan wants his lessons to stretch on, they go double speed. Mercifully, he’s given a load of copying to do for Mr Richstein during break-time, so he doesn’t see Phil all morning. But all too soon, it’s 10:55am, and he has nothing to do except make his way down the corridors to Classroom Nine.

He drags his feet and dawdles, but it doesn’t make any difference. He ends up there in no time, hovering outside the partly open door. This time, he doesn’t even bother knocking.

Phil is, for some reason, rolling out an enormous sheet of white paper across the length of the floor. It reaches from wall to wall, covering the entire classroom. He’s pushed all the tables and chairs to the edges of the room, leaving a huge gap in the middle for it.

As Dan edges inside, Phil looks up, his glasses slipped a little way down his nose. “Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

“I’m scheduled to be here,” Dan blurts out. “Today. At eleven. To assist.”

Phil smiles at him. “I know.”

Dan swallows, nodding. “Cool.”

Phil stands up then, stepping on tiptoes to the edge of the paper. “Um, maybe we should take our shoes off.”

“Right,” Dan says, obeying immediately. It’s only as he’s untying his second pair of laces, one hand braced against the wall, that he thinks to ask why. “Uh, any reason I’m getting my feet out?”

Phil chuckles at him, pulling off his own shoes. “So we don’t make any marks on the paper.”

“Right,” Dan says again. “God forbid.”

Phil laughs again. “I’d tell you what we’re doing today, but-”

“But you want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh no,” Phil says, standing up in just his socks. “I’m becoming predictable.”

“Never,” Dan replies, honestly.

There’s an awkward pause, and Dan uses it to find somewhere to stow his shoes for the next hour.

“By the way,” Phil tells him conversationally. “The timetable’s changed a little. We’ve got the Year Nine’s today.”

Dan looks up in shock. “What?”

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Because they missed their History class on Monday due to the trip. So I switched with Mr Hawkins. He’s taking the Year Eight’s for Religious Studies, and I’m getting the Year Nine lot for this period. Just for this week, obviously.”

“But… but why?” Dan asks, a swell of panic rising in his chest as he considers the idea that they students from the Paris trip - the very students that blew up a very promising budding relationship with their cruel gossip - are going to be here in less than two minutes.

“Well, we just thought it was more important that they have the lesson today,” Phil shrugs, eyeing Dan confusedly. “They’ve got their mock GCSE’s coming up after all… and… Dan, are you okay?”

Dan is not okay. He’s struggling to remain calm.

“I just… didn’t realise.”

Phil watches him carefully, then steps onto the paper on the floor, as if he’s about to walk over.

“They won’t say anything, Dan,” Phil says quietly, dithering in the middle of the paper. “It will be okay.”

Dan meets his gaze, badly wanting to believe that. “How do you know?”

Before Phil can reply, three girls - Savannah, Caoibhe, and Gaeul all walk in, giggling about something. They stop short at the sight of the paper across the floor, looking at Phil for guidance.

“Shoes off, girls!” Phil cries, all seriousness wiped from his expression. “We’re having a socks-only lesson today.”

The girls laugh, slipping off their ankle boots and ballet pumps, then walking carefully across the paper to place them neatly at the side of the room with their bags. As the others file through the door, they follow suit, each bringing another bubble of excitement to the atmosphere.

Dan, perched up on one of the tables at the side of the class, just watches anxiously, waving and smiling as best he can at the familiar faces.

“Hi, sir!” They call brightly, sensing nothing amiss.

“Hey, Mr Howell, how’re you?”

“Bonjour, Mr Howell!”

Finally, Jonah bowls through, grinning and calling his greeting to Mr Lester, like nothing is wrong, like he hasn’t destroyed everything with his carelessness.

Dan hides a scowl, and tries to tell himself to remain professional.

Once everyone is inside, their shoes removed, they sit cross-legged on the large blank canvas beneath them, and Phil introduces the class. They’re going to be creating a mural, based around the Paris trip. Everyone will draw their favourite memory, and relate it to a piece of Parisian history from the time period they’ve been focusing on. They can draw anything, as long as it’s relevant and appropriate.

Penises, Phil reminds the class, are not permitted.

The class get to work at once, grabbing the coloured pencils, chalks, and pens Phil hands out in big tubs. They talk amongst themselves, busy creating their masterpieces, so Dan hops down to wander through them all, peering at their drawings.

“Sir, you’ll smudge my design!” Katie complains, batting at Dan’s socked foot as he walks by her.

“Oops, sorry,” he says, stepping backwards.

“Sir, you’re walking on my Eiffel Tower!” Matthew cries.

Dan apologises profusely, and makes his way quickly to the edge of the class, where Phil’s desk is, trying to avoid any more disasters. Phil giggles at him, perched on the edge of his desk like a deity overlooking his Kingdom.

“Perhaps you should design something for the mural too, Mr Howell,” Phil suggests, holding out an array of pencils to him.

Dan gives him a withering look. “I knew this was all a ploy to get me to draw again.”

Phil chuckles. “Told you I’m becoming predictable.”

Dan sighs, rolling his eyes, and takes a few of the pencils from his hand, trying not to focus on the way his fingers drag over Phil’s.

“What do I draw, then?”

“What’s your favourite memory from the trip?” Phil asks.

Seconds after the question leaves his mouth, he seems to realise how loaded it is, and blushes, looking away.

Dan doesn’t look at him either, trying to focus on coming up with literally anything remotely appropriate to draw.

“As if you need to ask him that, sir,” Jonah calls to Phil, smirking.

Dan fixes him with a glare. “That’s enough, Jonah.”

“Aw, lay off, sir,” Jonah replies, glaring right back at him. “I’m only sayin’ what everyone already knows. Your favourite memory of Paris isn’t gonna be the fuckin’ Champs-Elysee is it?”

“I mean it, Jonah,” Dan says, standing up straighter. “Pipe down.”

“How exactly are you gonna draw you and Lester suckin’ face, anyway?” Jonah asks, chin jutting out defiantly. “Chalk and charcoal?”

“I said that’s enough!” Dan shouts.

“Dan,” Phil says softly, his voice a warning. Dan ignores him.

“For God’s sake, Jonah, it’s not appropriate for you to make those kind of comments!”

A slow smirk spreads over Jonah’s face. “Struck a nerve did I, sir?”

“Jonah, I am warning you-”

“Oh go blub to your boyfriend about it,” Jonah says, rolling his eyes.

The rest of the class have stopped drawing now. They’ve stopped their chattering too, nineteen pairs of eyes fixed on Dan and Jonah, their mouths open in shock.

Dan grits his teeth. He can already feel the anger rushing through his bloodstream, churned up by Jonah’s insolent behaviour. He’s not going to be able to choke it down this time.

“Get out,” he snarls. Jonah stares in surprise.

“What?”

“I said get out of this classroom, Jonah Frank.”

“Dan,” Phil hisses at him, one hand on Dan’s arm. Dan pulls free of him, furious. “Dan, you can’t just-”

Dan stalks over to the door then, stamping over several students’ drawings as he goes, though nobody says a word. He pulls open the door, fixes Jonah with a hard stare, and gestures to the hall outside.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“Sir, can he do this?” Jonah asks, turning his attention to Phil.

Phil swallows, turning to Jonah. “Mr Howell is just as much of a superior to you as I am, Jonah. If he feels you are misbehaving, he can discipline you however he sees fit.”

“So, you agree wiv’im?” Jonah asks, cross now. He gets to his feet, throwing a piece of chalk down in anger.

“Yes,” Phil says, though he doesn’t seem happy about it. “Do as he says, Jonah.”

“This is bullshit, an’ all,” Jonah growls, but stalks through the open door into the hallway, pulling it closed behind him.

“Wait out there, Jonah!” Dan calls.

“Alright everyone,” Phil says weakly. “Back to work.”

Reluctantly, the kids return to their drawings, whispering quietly. Dan doesn’t need to wonder what they’re all saying. He passes a hand over his face, wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

As Dan looks up, he notices Phil starting to pick his way through the kids towards him, and swallows, sensing the incoming storm. Phil is calm, aiming strained smiles and encouraging comments at the students, but as soon as he gets close enough, he takes Dan by the arm. Dan just lets it happen, allowing himself to be led without a struggle to the very edge of the classroom, as far from the students’ earshot as possible.

He tries to brace himself for a telling off, and has a quiet word with his own body that no matter how stern and teacher-y Phil gets with him, he is by no means allowed to get aroused by it.

“Look, Phil, he was being disrespectful,” Dan says immediately, wanting to try to get his word in first. “He’s been saying that shit for way too long, it’s not appropriate-”

“Dan, do not even try to tell me that this wasn’t a personal vendetta against one individual.”

Dan shuts up, sighing. “He had it coming.”

Phil groans in exasperation. “Dan, you have to see how bad this is. You can’t just send students out of my class without telling me.”

“You said you agreed!”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Phil asks, his voice low so the others won’t hear. “Say you were wrong? Undermine you in front of the whole class?”

“But I’m not wrong!” Dan fires back, frustrated. “You know his behaviour is inappropriate, I’m only doing what you should have done weeks ago-”

“Do not tell me how to do my job, Dan.”

Dan blinks at him, taken aback by the harshness of his tone. Phil has never spoken to him so sternly before. His serious expression is gone in a flash, but it doesn’t matter. It will stick in Dan’s mind forever, probably.

“Fine, whatever, I’ll go and get him back in.”

Phil sighs, catching Dan’s wrist as he starts to head for the door. He drops it quickly, remembering where they are. Dan feels the fingers slip over his skin, and winces.

“No, look,” Phil starts. “It’s fine. It’s done now. I’ll go and speak to him, tell him not to say that stuff anymore.” Phil looks heavenward. “Not that I have any idea how to begin that conversation…”

“I’ll do it,” Dan says softly. “This is my mess. I’ll clear it up.”

Phil pauses, considering. He chews his lip. “Okay. But… can you do me a favour?”

“Anything,” Dan says, too quickly. He curses himself for saying it, eyes slipping shut.

“Just… don’t be too harsh on him,” Phil says, his voice a little croaky again. “He’s not a bad kid. He just teases people. But it’s a sign of affection.”

Dan looks at Phil, a realisation dawning over him. “I screwed up the rapport you’ve built with the most troubled kid in school, didn’t I?”

Phil shrugs, tiredly. “I hope not.”

(Part 11!)

#phan #l'histoire française #teacher au #phan teacher au #my fics #sorry for the sadness!

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kado-maschine · 4 years ago

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How to be alone?

Everyone has problems right? Those who don't, either don't understand what the term problem means, or they are inanimate matter, but even inanimate matter has problems too because of entropy.

Anyhow, my scariest bogeyman is that at best I can't make a relationship work, and at worst I even avoid the chance of having one. Why? If I want to put it simply, fuck knows. Thing is that I'm not gonna put it simple this time, as what I have learned from fake news propagated by Russian troll armies is that everything that is simple, sensational and easy to understand is not very productive apart from having the intention to muddy the waters and serve a very select few by doing so.

Since my interest is to clarify things for my own good (and maybe help or at least entertain others), truth is the name of the game with this writing (whatever it turns out to be). If there will be no other benefits, at least I’m going to be able to cross off the mental task off my imaginary to do list.

One day, after having a rather enjoyable horse at the vet sensation, as I went to bed I had the same sensation that I was having as a child on countless occasions when I couldn't sleep or woke up randomly during the night. The bed, the sheets and most importantly the pillows felt like they are made some rigid, abrasive material, that is also disgusting. It felt like being embraced by disgust and bitterness. Normally my bed and I are best buddies, I love to sleep and I had no problem falling asleep on a beam bag in the middle of the office, during business hours. The chemistry was also supposed to help, not to deteriorate. Fast forward a few weeks while sitting on the bed and drinking a cuba made of free rum and overpriced PEPSI from the hotel's mini fridge I'm trying to figure out, when and why was I having problems with sleep before and when was I sleeping like a baby and why. In recent history, since my memory is one very slippery slope, the answer is a no, a no regarding detectable issues with my sleep. It is a no, as long as all the nights spent with gaming, night shifts or digging through obscure forums to find a track in a mix somewhere between minute 53 and 57 are not considered. Reflecting on the whole experience described above, I must have had trouble sleeping when I was a really small child and I was missing a lot. As I was growing up things got gradually better. By the time I was in high school the wardrobe have been conquered and turned into my gaming nest. The gaming room hosted my first gaming pc that I built piece by piece from a shitty Athlon that dad got screwed over by some "friend" and beloved games that kept me glued to the screen for hours on end. After the PC came my first car, job, girlfriend and slowly but surely as I moved away from my parents my own life really started to take shape. I have slept better and better. Now, armed with a mortgage, with two cars that possibly cost as much put together as a front bumper for a brand new BMW M3, two cats who are by far not the smartest but they keep me company and are cute af, two bicycles, a bunch of computers and a job that I'm grateful to have and one that fits my questionable attitude towards work, I yet again arrived to the point where the quality of my sleep is degrading faster than a space capsule entering the atmosphere, despite all the the things listed above were part of what I was dreaming of as a child and teenager/student.

Despite all of these, I'm oscillating between two states when it comes to sleep. One is the depression sleep, after taking a long hard look at my backlog that reaches to the Moon and back at least five times, taking a nap seems to be the only viable option, or multiple naps, or a humongous sleep where the only thing that can get me out of bed is the need to pee. The other one is the let's try to solve all of my problems in a purely theoretical manner, right before sleep, going over the same problems over and over, while making wild conspiracy theories about myself, because of the purely hypothetical setting. This mental kung-fu under some circumstances can turn into the above mentioned “being embraced by disgust” thing. How did I get here?

I've seen people being happier while having a lot less. What is that they have and I do not possess? Intimacy, I guess by the power of exclusion. Of course I could just short this whole thing before it gets off the ground, as a self-proclaimed good capitalist. I could say that If I can make enough money, someone will fake it for me for the financial benefit and as long as this someone does the thing right and tricks to my brain, I couldn't give less a of a fuck, or could I? Anyhow, with my current work ethic of extracting as much resources as possible form as little invested work as possible puts a cap on my earnings that limits my financial possibilities to roadside STD intimacy. Shut up! - screams the humanist from somewhere between repressed emotions and avoided social responsibilities. You have to make things work, otherwise you're just treating the symptoms, but the root cause remains and will re-surface over and over again - he continues. Now, call me Susan and you know the rest... A multitude of attempts were made to solve this mess, so I kept failing in various ways. Yes, my now my mantra is "failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, success, failure, failure, success". Despite this attitude, one can only take so many failures before feeling exhausted and gets worse at the task on hand because of said tiredness and fails even more. People also tend to tell me that I need to learn to be happy alone. Please, shut the fuck up. Despite my shitposting, which i find genuinely funny, good and somewhat toxic way of escapism, I can be happy when I'm alone. Just to bring one example to the table, the road to this very hotel room where I'm writing this whatever right now, took me through one of the twistiest mountain passes that gets you outside of the Carpathian basin, the road goes through the city of Cheia (BV) and it has dozens upon dozens of hairpins one after another and miles upon miles of narrow, twisty roads with a bunch of elevation changes. My right foot just couldn’t care about fuel consumption. With my tires squealing in almost every corner and I was laughing loudly in the car, spanking the dash and shouting "ohh yea" while I could let the steering wheel loose for a few seconds. Dancing alone in the living room when the track of the week or month hits out of the blue, or when the right people at the right party are found to have "deep" conversations about whatever stupid topics that our brain soaking in whatever cocktail finds to be fit for purpose. The thing is, if one spent somewhere in the neighbourhood of six years trying all the gizmos and distractions of the modern society to make him or herself be happy without intimacy and succeeded to some extent, but at the same time realized that hundreds of thousands of years of evolutional biology and al the workflows tied into it cannot be cheated in a lifespan, what are the limits for being happy alone?

I have reached a point where the things that cause me unconditional pleasure are getting very complicated, time consuming, expensive or dangerous, like buying car parts, pushing transportation devices to their limits, gambling with bs crypto currencies or trying to learn skills with a heck of a learning curve, not to mention experimenting with chemically induced changes in my brain activity. I have also reached a point where it gets harder and harder to trick my biology. The ape says reproduce, while this in the modern era where global warming is prevalent and innocent eyed orphans are making t-shirts in Bangladesh for next to nothing in a sweatshop, while China’s rivers deliver more plastic to the oceans than water kind world makes no sense. I could at least fool the ape with just having someone around and occasionally making love or engaging in other forms of intimacy. At least the thresholds would be closer and it would be a lot simpler to fool the inner ape and the hormone levels wouldn't need to filled up with lies that much. Besides the raw biological teardown, having someone around as a partner where the positive interactions outweigh the negative ones could be the basis of a symbiosis between two humans.

If some intimacy / sex / company would help, why I’m not having any? - the question poses. In theory, the ins and outs have been mapped out. It all started, as it mostly does, during childhood. The marriage of my parents went totally south when my sister was born and I had 4 years, so my long term memory just started working. This meant that my memory had no part of seeing a single act of intimacy of my primary caregivers towards each other, just shouting, aside from my grandmother and my favourite aunt giving me a hug sometimes. It was a real battle zone where a few hours without shouting were far and few between. This and a lot of other shit that my parents were haunted by, courtesy of their own pasts gave me exactly zero knowledge on how to read woman. I’m basically fucking blind. Even if I was any good at maths I would loose count of the occasions when someone told me, “Look at that girl / woman, how she’s looking at us / you” and I had to ask where to look, in terms of general direction, not to mention the ability to pick up small signs. How do I see the sign, if a year or so have passed since we ’been together and I didn’t know the eye colour of my first girlfriend. Sounds surprising right? Well, when batshit crazy is considered normal for the first 20 years of your life, climbing out of that perspective has quite a learning curve. If that learning curve weren’t damn steep enough as is, add a stupid decision to it, and be very disciplined about that stupid decision for years, and the shitstorm will be near perfect. But I come back to the near perfection of the shitstorm in a bit.

First of all, how about that first girlfriend and the stupid decision? I think I might have been 18yo when I had my first kiss and I was 19yo when I met my first girlfriend. I would have never ended up her boyfriend if I wasn’t drunk on a particular party and were just kissed by another girl who was into me boosting my morale, the cherry on the top of the cake being that I knew from a friend of my sister that my would be ex was into me. All these factors played into the hand of a relationship that lasted two and a half years and could have been a major leaping stone for me. She looked gorgeous and a chemistry was spot on. We learned things together and I learned how and where and when to touch a woman. Since I was still in the grasp of the narrow conservative (small rural town, what do you expect?) mindset I did and said a bunch of things I’m not proud of. Hopefully she learnt more from those lessons as much as I did or even more. So, why wasn’t this relationship the bridge between my loneliness and the ability to have functioning relationships? Why instead of being a leaping stone I stumbled and fell into a ditch head first?

When it ended, the feeling was so shitty, that the most logical conclusion to my very simplistic mind was to avoid feeling like that again altogether, therefore becoming cold and distant become the primary guidelines. Six years of loneliness ensued. Going without sex, kissing anyone or hugging could be easily measured in moths or even a year. Months have passed between occasional one night stands, where the hunter was determined or drunk enough to not to care about my cluelessness, or the hunted was drunk enough to not to be totally unapproachable or clueless or both. Even if they were looking to turn the one night stand into multiple nights or maybe a relationship, due to the long stretches of loneliness and due to the weird sexual expectations that arose during said long stretches of nothingness, I felt so weird and ashamed of myself, that I turned down further invitations and couldn’t bring myself to talk to them. Basically, from their perspective, I had sex with them, than I disappeared in the ether. I have managed to show myself in a successful a-hole kind a way, while I felt like the most unlucky, ugly and talentless piece of shit (now that’s what I call “an achievement”).

Despite the fact that I found myself highly repulsive for a long time, hiding behind sunglasses and foundation I had enough self confidence to let woman try. And boy oh boy, they did try. Those who were more desperate were more determined, while those who had multiple choices open had a look, maybe had some fun and than left seeing the vast cluster of insecurities behind the sketchy façade that looked enticing from a distance, but fell apart upon closer inspection. People told me that I was good looking and I should have a girlfriend and I truly believed for years that they were only saying this to save face. Now, looking back, I’m starting to realize that I’m not ugly, I might even be good looking by some metrics. This realization came as the memory lane of old pictures was revisited again and again. Upon closer inspection all the woman around me, hugging me, giving me kisses on photos became evident. It is one thing that I couldn’t capitalize on any of that, but I realized, how lucky am I that genetics favoured me. Elsewise, if the gene pool wouldn’t have been kind to me at least in this department, I would be the most neglected man, considering my social and dating skills. Or the lack thereof, to be more precise. One thing to be grateful for.

Before this realization occurred, I shit you not, I had to realize first, that the policy I applied after I broke up with my first girlfriend was seriously affecting me. It was like one of those cases, when a temporary workaround is put in place for something, everyone forgets about it, than it causes a major shitstorm in the long run when something breaks down the line, messing up a forgotten but needed dependency. Before this realization life went by casually in a perfect state of cognitive dissonance, by not willing to open up for anyone, not willing to pay attention to anyone’s feelings and yet craving intimacy and blaming the world for not providing any.

So ok, during the time it took for the realization to kick in some amazing woman drifted away. ”What do you do now, you dumb fucking bitch?” - asks one part of the brain. “Well, you stand up, use less swearwords, or edit them out later and keep moving on hoping that each failure at least landed some useful experience points that can be used as a solid base for improvement.” - says the other. So this is how the journey of relationship 101 and emotion handling begun.

Phase 1. Trying to establish a relationship, but being emotionally unavailable.

There’s was a girl who added me on facebook after after a party and somehow I managed to puzzle the picture together. She was there, she saw me playing music, she liked me and she tried to reach out. We have started talking, we have started going out and we kept going out without me doing any advances for 3 moths, when she finally had enough and invited me over to her place to watch Narcos. That night was followed by a relationship that lasted approx two months when she kicked me out, calling me insensitive and unable to care for her emotionally. She was totally right.

Moving on, I drop a comment on some meme posted by one of the girls I met at the University a few years ago. She replies to my comment, I reply to hers, the discussion moves to chat. After a couple of days she tells me that she is coming home from abroad and we shall meet. I agree. The meeting happens, other things happen, we get along really well, meet two more times and consider ourselves to be in a long distance relationship. She’s very enthusiastic, wants to communicate with me, she’s being cute and I’m still 100% emotionally unavailable. When I finally decide to visit her, after dragging the topic for months, she cuts me loose. Rightfully so. Off course, I delete her from social media, and decide that whatever, I’ll make enough money so someone will stay with me for that, even if I’m an emotional iceberg laced with titanium (un-fucking-penetrable). What an utterly crappy response to being rejected, says captain hindsight.

Phase 2. Overflow.

Next up, wasted on party (but in a mildly good way) and another girl who remembers me from a festival that took place years ago initiates a conversation and I end up hanging out with her and all of her girlfriends. We party, we talk, we decide to go to an after at their place. Due to administrative reasons when I get there only one of them is there, so we start talking. Meanwhile people are arriving, chemicals are wearing off and kicking in, dynamics change. Finally everyone gives in and we sleep together. The next day (because the next days always counts from the moment when you wake up) we talk, have a long walk, I unload a mental excel of pros and cons about myself to her since honesty can only be good (later on my psychologist tells me the contrary, since what I do is scary and things should be let to unravel by themselves) and I leave town. After my short city break is over we decide to meet and she’s over at my place before I could blink. We start hanging out more and more. Even If I have the tendency to make the same mistakes over and over again, just to be sure that they are mistakes and I have mastered the recipe, this time I knew that I have to open myself up. The theoretical part was ok, as the plan was to move slowly and open myself up step by step over an extended period of time. Unfortunately the gap between theory and practice sometimes can accommodate a few light years in between, so all of the emotions that I managed to bottle up over the years managed to get out after only a few careful steps. She had her own problems, I had mine and they didn’t make a good combination, but a rather unfortunate one. Disregarding the fact that I have tried to invest emotionally, I still couldn’t care for her emotional needs. The whole thing blew up in my face, basically. Being blind to anything that is less obvious than she suddenly turning to me in the middle of the night and saying, “I have to go home”, and having the alarm of something is not right going off is not the hallmark of being ready for a relationship. Another part of the lecture was that revealing rating systems to woman about woman is a double edged ice cream that mostly licks back instead of being licked. For those who don’t view the world from an engineering / mathematical (call it as you fancy) perspective, there are people out there who measure and categorize everything. This in a relation means that the relevant parameters like, looks, intelligence (or the lack thereof), like mindedness, biological match, size of the cultural gap (if applies), financial and social situation are all measured on a scale and the weighted average tells if the other person is a match or not, and how good a match it is. Unfolding this information in my situation turned out to be a major no-no. Based on the very narrow sample, I was convinced that this is how it is and I should never again reveal my rating system ever again. Luckily, lately a friend of mine told me that his girlfriend appreciated this kind of approach, so the analytics based way of thinking is not my mental dead end, only it has to be used after a lot of observation and in the right situation with the right people as the “target audience” seems to be quite small. By the time we got to the point of me revealing my rating system, red flags were flying all over. Thing is red flags are easy to miss even with experience not to mention barely having any. When you add that up to the fact that you need a planetary alignment that occurs every 5000 years to be able to get close to someone, you also finally manage to let your guard down and you know that giving up on things is generally considered bad and dedication is king, those red flags are rendered inexistent in the quantum soup of thoughts. All of the above combined leads to the materialization of one very specific dynamic in attachment theory, where the anxious one is trying to get closer and to invest more in general, while the avoidant is getting further and further away, creating a situation where both feel frustrated. Fast forward a little (as the whole thing lasted two months), she cuts me loose and I have no clue how to deal with the tsunami of the emotions that are now very much on the surface and the pink cloud that acted as a distraction is gone and the withdrawal starts to kick in. A downward spiral begins that ends with being so desperate to escape the sensation of a panic attack being one mental “block” away that I start taking random meds and drinking, because at one point they have to override my emotions. I don’t want to kill myself per se, but I made peace with the thought that if I need to die to escape that state of mind, I’m fine with it.

Luckily since I’m an attention whore, I’m not doing this in total silence and even if I’m not being totally upfront about it, my friends and people who are not my friends but are nice people and just care realize that something is off and rush in to help. Their intentions are really good, however, most of them are not experts and just share their best practices. Five or six best practices in, one is confused as fekk. This confusion is that finally pushes me through the barrier to seek professional help. Luck was by my side as I found a psychologist I could work with from the get go. As we were moving forward with therapy I was still trying to resuscitate a very dead relationship. The contrast between my interactions with the therapist and my ex were miles apart. While I was still rowing the waters “make her feel sorry for me” and told her how I tried to get my overboiling emotions in check, scaring her tremendously, creating a mess of emotions for both of us, the how's and whys and the to-dos were very clear during therapy. At one point the psychologist said that “You see the situation very clearly, you are also very conscious about what you did and what are the possible ramifications of your actions and you also have a plan as to how to fix them, why are you here?” My answer was simple: “While I’m in a state of rest, where I’m not being cornered by my own emotions all is clear, however, once shit hits the fan, all of the logic that was nicely put together goes out of the window and I start acting borderline crazy”.

As the therapy sessions flew by and the links to my ex started to fade, things ere starting to stabilize. All that was left is what I call “light general depression”. Light general depression is exactly what its name stands for. It doesn’t contain joy (apart from chain-smoking, watching tons of YouTube videos about video games and cars, binge eating pizza and ice cream and drinking herculean amounts of rum), existing feels bad and pointless, but it is not terrible, there are no big ups and downs and existence in this state can go on for extended periods time. As one of these days passed by as experienced from the warm hug of an unnecessarily long bath I randomly texted a friend to see what is she up to. She was hanging out by herself, drinking and asked me if I wanted to join, so I did. By the time I got there another woman was at the table. Nothing special, we introduced ourselves and carried on drinking. I did not find this new addition to my pool of acquaintances physically attractive, that under normal circumstances could have been a trigger, however she was very intriguing. As the alcohol levels in our blood gained an ever larger foothold, the discussion suddenly turned into one of those that go down the rabbit hole of serious emotions and life experiences. I love these discussions (hence the experience, wink wink), they are the bread and butter of why am I socializing. It is almost pointless to say that as the discussion turned into the two of us going on a philosophical rampage about depression and explaining the how’s and why’s to anyone around us the spark went off. Finally, as the night came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes only the two of us were left walking the through the streets bursting with nightlife telling more and more intimate stories about ourselves. As we reached her place and said goodbye I got stuck in the mental loop of what to do after a meeting and discussion like this. Luckily she promptly bypassed the situation by shaking my hand and telling me something along the lines of “till next time”. The next day the temptation was simply irresistible not to stalk her online. By the time I got a glimpse of her through her profile her friend request already landed safely.

She left town for a few weeks (if I’d be religious or into spiritual stuff, I’d say there’s a link to the previous relationship, luckily I am not, life is just hugely random), but we agreed that I would take her to party when she comes back, since she haven’t been to one since her son was born. Meanwhile I also found out that she had what she described as a “sort of boyfriend”. While all of this was unravelling my brain dripping with curiosity kicked me into higher and higher gears as my taste of the unusual and complicated got ever more triggered. Finally the day of the party came and it was the best party I ever attended where I didn’t like the music at all. We really connected. Looking back at that level of connection, I couldn’t tell if we were really alike in some terms and hugely different in others, or she is just simply darn good at showing what people would like to see. A few days later she invited me to watch a movie, we watched the whole movie without me totally being unable to do any advances, again, unless we finally decided to sleep. Things happened. That night was the starting point of a journey that lasted 7 months and included lots of love, lots of desperation, living together with ex boyfriends, handling a spoiled 4 year old boy, discussing and trying to come to terms with a father that got lost in the ether, lots of calculated action combined with a shit-ton of impulsivity and lot more. What I learned in this relationship about trauma, falling victim of compensating for trauma, overusing resources without considering the future, keeping something useless and counterproductive in your life just because it makes you feel superior, utterly useless - clueless and spoiled people, the consequences of being inconsistent in a child’s education hopefully could fill pages on its own, If I managed to learn something. All of this is still just scratching the surface. The full and detailed version of said list serves material for more writings as this paragraph could go on for dozens of pages, but it won’t to avoid further side-tracking. Also, some of these lessons still need processing time for the sake of being able to paint a picture that is more accurate rather than soaked with emotions. What is certain is that at least one writing (if not more) about overprotective parents running the risk of handicapping their children, involuntary hostage taking and kindness as a useless perk if not accompanied by other skills will come at one point. With the this pitch out of the way, let’s get back to the relationship itself. To put it simply, there was this man, dressed in black from head to toe, wearing black nail polish occasionally, being a strong proponent for nihilism and putting himself at risk for the excitement of being exposed to risk while also testing all sorts of limits because an “engineer” has to know the limits, right? During the course of a few months this man had a child seat in the back of his car, learned how to micromanage educational failures by measuring, not just feeling and truly cared for the wellbeing of a few people. He had the impression that he found his place in a world where he previously tried to fill the void by proving the pointlessness of life through reckless (and very fun) activities. Thrusters were set to 110% as the pink fog of “this is it, we have to commit and do this” descended on the brain cells locked in a hormone fuelled frenzy. Finally I experienced a Christmas where I felt happy and loved instead of trying to avoid conflict and hating the world in general.

While I was working on getting myself involved in a hot, crazy mess, thrusters 110% on, I happened to stay at my former flatmate’s parents for two days. I love going there, not just because it served as a perfect base for a weekend of partying, but it is one of those places where a family functions in a symbiosis, not co-dependence. Very-very-very fucking important difference. I love to see how people interact with one another when the main driving force is not fear, but understanding, where attachment comes from the light, not darkness. Even now it makes me to slightly tear up to know, that family can be good, not something to avoid as much as possible, if handled properly. Sights like these give hope. Anyhow, before this detour gets too big, I had good chat with my ex flatmate’s mom where she told me “Kado, don’t look for woman who fit you best, look for someone simple who is capable to learn”. Objectively speaking, this was the best advice I ever received about dating. Worry not, this will not be left unexplained, jut not right now.

So with this advice in mind, the weekend ended and the quest of getting myself deeper into the murky waters of chronic co-dependence was back. As the first few months of the relation flew by and we went from low profile affair to we’re together now and everyone should know about it, more and more details emerged of an ex that could only commit to a relationship when the imminent loss of her partner is present. It also became clear that his incompetence serves as his major attraction, since a man that is kind, but lacks any purpose and logic to derive any said purpose is highly desirable for an ego that cherishes being superior. It became evident how this dynamic eroded seven or so years of the than “woman of my dreams” into a quagmire. My nativity was strong enough to redirect the previously mentioned thrusters to pull her out of the quagmire by the power of micromanagement. The end result hovering in the distance was that my help could propel her to regain traction. As soon as she will be in a better place and I can get just a bit more of those tiny glimpses of her former happy self, we’ll be on track to create what we referred to as a “power couple”. However, one thing that flew under my radar and finally led to the demise of this premise was an important conclusion drawn after years of being a cog in the corporate machine. Never give 100%, maybe at the beginning, but not even then. Not to talk about 110%, as no person can operate on those levels for months on end, unless driven by amphetamines or coke, but that will take an even higher price in the longer run. If one still decides to go down this path, burnout will be just around the corner. When said burnout meets with someone who needs therapy rather than relationships, shit will go down. Empathy will run out after the same mistake leads to the same crisis for the zillionth time, emotional attachment generates fear in conjunction with each re-occurring crisis and “the you shouldn’t do this, you should do that” tone prevails. The thing is, if I look at my ability to get very cruel, cold and calculating when feeling emotionally cornered as gift or as a curse, it doesn’t matter, it still happens. Detailing to a mother how others managed to solve something with relative ease that she couldn’t or barely could and that she should do this and that, in that situation is a major no-no. I think when it comes about parenting, egos flight higher than Icarus. As one of the cornerstones of empathy is to try to put yourself in the shoes of others, I tired imagining how it could feel like if someone, dunnoh, attacked me because I can’t do maths for shit, or that I have a tendency to abandon my plans. In conclusion, the grey matter sitting inside this skull that is producing these lines might just feel comfortable when it comes to shedding ego. Whit our dynamics auto optimizing themselves to counteract one another in a pretty toxic way, the inevitable happened. We agreed that we can’t understand one another no more, therefore it was time to break up.

In order to minimize the pain a full communication lockdown went in effect to add another twist to the Covid-19 lockdown. This combined with making a few new friends while doubling down on substance abuse spiced with getting into relapse territory with other woman got me ticking along. I think it is pointless to say that this mechanism used for calming emotions wasn’t the best. First, natural coping mechanisms were obliterated even before getting a theoretical shape, not to talk about trying them and maybe getting some experience, second, these coping mechanisms took their own toll on my body and psyche and third, they crumbled in the very moment when my ex reached out to me to normalize our relation as two human beings who happen to know one another. It only took a few hours for the stream of emotions to turn into whirlpool of anger and darkness where my criminal mind flourishes. And boy do I have a criminal mind. When the going gets rough it isn’t like I can’t control myself and start shouting, and throwing things around. No-no, it’s not like that at all, but it is like making plans, evil plans, plans that would make a drug cartel hitman nod in approval. The way these “solutions” from the dark end of the spectrum interact with checks and balances look like: “what I would say of a totally unrelated person who does that” or “what were the consequences if my plans were revealed and such”. This time, all these impulses distilled in ever more frequent and strategic use of creating constructive ambiguity by selectively revealing secrets and manipulation. The cherry on the top was put in place when she reached out to me when she tried to re-establish post breakup communication, consisting in grabbing all sorts of dark echoes that race through my mind, amplifying them and revealing them to her in order to make sure that she’ll be convinced that I’m a horrible, dangerous and aggressive person underneath, therefore she’ll never attempt to communicate with me, ever. It wasn’t nice, at all, but it was violence free apart from me running my mouth and it worked, for a while.

So far so good, the plan worked great. I made friends with new people, both offline and online and I had a few who were interested in me and maybe still are (as you might have noticed so far, can’t really tell). The plan was to get some mileage into the game and get more experience points and to learn, for which diversity is essential. There was a week where I had 4 dates, with 2 happening on the very same day. Result? Let’s not call it a total fucking bummer, but let’s go with a “valuable lesson”, ok? Why? One person stood out and everybody else faded into the shadows of absolute zero interest.

People who intrigue me are the ones that I feel a longing for. These are the people who have my instant and unconditional support as soon as they ask, these are the people I’m paying attention to and these are the people that I use as examples to follow in certain walks of life. So, there was one date who stood out and baaam, just like that, interest for anyone else vanished like lines from a broken phone screen at a rave. This one person turned out to be someone who exploits life just as I do, or even to a greater extent when the conditions are set. She likes adrenaline, playing around with thoughts not being afraid to be cut by some rough edges, going fast, views substances as mere tools, not like something good or bad and last but not least, she is the best looking, besides ticking a few other boxes. Did all the positives yielded a relationship or even a one night stand? Absolutely not. Was this a problem? Maybe from the perspective of my reproductive instincts, but from any other perspectives, it was interesting at worst and beneficiary at best. There are a bunch of people who tell good and bad Tinder date stories, however I haven’t heard a single one up to date that could match the level of renovate a bathroom on a tinder date. The bathroom turned out to be something both of us are showing with pride and I have learned about the ins and outs of tiling. It was also refreshing to see when a relationship between two people is based more in rational thinking than dragged by emotions, as it was the perfect contrast for my ex girlfriend who basically managed to turn a life of success into a quagmire by giving the executive powers to her unhinged emotions.

What have we learned?

When a bunch of things fail to be turned into happy factories, let it be hedonism, creativity, hard work, sport or other kinds of hobbies, all kick in the feeling of “geez, I did that, but the I have to get to the next level to evade boredom and constantly levelling up is hard work” so doing literally anything gets turned into a chore. Shitting and washing ass can feel like a chore, just like hanging out with friends can so one inevitably pulls out the good old question of “is my brain just unable to make the happy stuff and if so, what’s the purpose of living?”. After talking with quite a few people who contemplated suicide, or people who lost a loved one to suicide, one thing was clear from the get go, I will not hang myself. Based on the frequency of suicide by hanging I can only conclude that people either have a huge imbalance between being emotionally driven or just simply being very sick and incapable of any rational thought. Why? Death by suffocation combined with the rupture of the spinal cord sounds like the worst thing ever. On the other hand, driving into a solid concrete wall at any speed near 100 km/h is guaranteed death. Driving into a solid wall at 200 km/h is massive overkill and it could be proven as an accident which could make lives for relatives easier if tricky life insurance policies are in place. Finances aside, there are other policies in place for reasons like seeing the misery of those who get left behind to live and let all the people who I consider idiots to outlive me. Like seriously, if some have been labelled as idiots by some metrics of mine and they outlive me, it means that my metrics and the logic based on those metrics was flawed, proven by my very demise.

So yea, what do you do when relationships don’t work out, you can’t seem to obtain them and self destruction is also off the table? Well, since we’re all caged to some degree due to the pandemic and I already raised my alcohol tolerance to stellar levels, it was the damn time to get myself busy. To really dig into my job and to force myself to do tasks that I have just passed to someone saying I can’t hack it, to start reading stuff, to start learning stuff to start exercising and most important of all, to create routines. Routines are awesome. If nothing makes sense, at least that nothing is done on a regular basis and the very fact that nothing amounts to anything if done on a daily basis is kind of a feet and gives a chance to dopamine production.

I have also learned that having sex after a hiatus of 10 months doesn’t improve things as much as I thought, which is good, because it also means that things do not degrade a lot from prolonged abstinence.

Where to now? I guess I’ll just try focusing on myself rather than trying to please others by forcing myself into the “normie puzzle”. I’ll leave myself open for options, since it would be rather counterproductive to Sméagol hiss away anyone who tries to approach me, but it might happen nonetheless.

And one last bit before I cut this writing short at the 11th or so page... If you’re interested in me, do something. Playing the get hard card just plain simply won’t work. If I don’t get any feedback like in a 50-50 distribution style I’ll feel discouraged and move on. I’m also plain stupid when it comes to decoding slight hints (as I’ve hinted at multiple times in this text). Be blunt about it, otherwise it might go totally unnoticed. Last but not least, if you’re not interested, please don’t fekking smile at me and more importantly don’t touch me. I know, theoretically that people can be nice with one another without wanting more, but it doesn’t work for me. If you do that, I’ll reach out to spend more time together, you’ll gonna reject me and I’m going to throw you on the pile failed attempts that is getting ever more poisonous and has a high chance of totally wrecking my mood by the time someone genuinely interested would come about.

I might also try to get more disciplined since it took me more than five months to throw up these characters. I sincerely hope that I wasted your time in a way that some part of what I wrote resonates with you, maybe helps you or you found it amusing at least. Peace out.

Update: some things have changed since I wrote this piece, I got new pieces of information and the story of my craziest adventure got a healthy boost. However, if I were to re-write and edit this text in accordance to all those things, it is highly possible that it would never come out. As one of my favourite hot rod builder puts it “Lower your expectations until you reach your goals”.

#relationships #depression #learning #development #desperatio #hope #lessons

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living-inside-witings · 7 years ago

Text

Trust Your Gut

Poe x Reader

Word Count : 2219

Warnings: light swearing. No spoilers so far

Summary: The reader has a family history with the Resistance but lives on a calm planet that isn’t involved with politics...yet. When she realizes that the First Order is taking over, she decides to find out more about the Resistance... (it’s more like a teaser, don’t want to give too much away)

It will have a part two if you like it!

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Serving in a military base at 23 was the last thing anybody would ever imagine you doing, least of all yourself. War, as such, has always been despicable to you, it was a machine where the rich got richer and the innocent died because somebody up there couldn’t share a piece of land or couldn’t pipe down their ego. It didn’t ever have a purpose, not in the modern world, at least not important enough to give your life for it so stupidly, surrounded by strangers and most likely unknown. However, this was different. This particular war determined the foundation of everybody’s lives, its outcome would either mean a complete dissipation of purpose from people’s lives or their restoration to its dignity. So it wasn’t really a military base, more of a moving group of people and the instruments they use to fight for what they believe in, and that made all the difference in the world. Nobody was there because they had to - these days it wasn’t very hard to stay under the radar if you didn’t really pick a side and it was even easier to have a decent living if you picked the side of the big and the bad - the First Order. So, belonging to the Resistance - a minority of rebels of all horizons, living, according to some, its last days, hunted down and mistreated almost everywhere they went - wasn’t exactly an office job you accepted out of a lack of options. Everybody had a personal story or a belief that made them join and heroes didn’t disappear without names here. Everybody was known, remembered.

You personally did join almost on an impulse, even though it was unlike you. Living on a remote planet that had its own powerful infrastructure and was managing to live without being entirely governed by the First Order, you didn’t realize the full scale of their atrocities and of the state of the galaxy, in general. You had just finished your studies and began work in an independent organisation that was getting along just fine but was on the lookout for young talents in order to stay in shape and not have to succumb to the growing pressure of the politics. However, the overall climate was beginning to strain and you couldn’t fail noticing it - you were, after all, trained to manage and overcome difficult situations for your organisation and, well, talk your way out of them. The planet needed diplomacy more then ever, one would think, but soon you started realizing that it might not have been all there was, or not enough.

Having traveled around the planet on one of the weekends, you realized that the dictatorship was slowly making its way to your seemingly calm world as well and you wondered just where were those famous Resistance people now. You had only heard stories about the Resistance from your parents, from the times when they were in full force and had managed to restore the Republic. Your uncle had been in the Resistance and got lost during one of the biggest fights. Yes, everybody was remembered, but you didn’t know it back then, and everybody just considered that either he settled on a different planet, far from it all, or, most likely, died at war. Because of these stories, the Resistance always had a place in your mind, but more like a forgotten fairy tale, not sure about what that word even meant today.

You were thinking about all of this while resting in your small ship on a landing pad near a peaceful park and, as if to answer your inner inquiry, a curious-looking X-Wing plane landed not so far, and almost immediately a helmet with the Resistance symbol on it emerged from there.

“Oh my God”, you whispered to yourself as you moved your ship slightly closer to the rebel one, trying not to look suspicious. Excitement tingled through you and your heartbeat increased, like that of a child seeing a character or an object from their favourite fictional world. You hadn’t felt this excited since, well, since you were yourself a child, most likely, or at least since your teens.

However, as acting on an impulse was rarely your thing and you were wary of shiny, too-good-to-be-true things, you tried to calm yourself and try to get the most of the situation, simply observing for now.

The pilot was quite confident in his movements and obviously not trying to hide - strange for someone who has a target on his back simply for wearing that helmet. He jumped down, removed the helmet and looked around, half-smiling with what looked like contentment as he took in the view of the peaceful, sun-filled park.

“You have got to be kidding me”, you said to yourself, groaning. In his defense, the park was indeed a sight for sore eyes - it was nearly impossible to worry for too long there. But it wasn’t really what he did that made you groan - everybody had a right to enjoy a sunny day, after all. It was how he looked: perfect posture, dark messy hair, a slight stubble and, two of your biggest weaknesses when it came to men - big brown eyes and a big, kind smile. And he just stood there, all rebel glory and acting like a romcom character, it was outright offensive. In your defense, anybody would’ve agreed that he was indeed an extremely good-looking guy, handsome enough to make anybody get instantly frustrated. AND you hadn’t exactly been the luckiest with guys lately, considering that most of your co-workers were girls or gay men.

Snapping out of it, you decided you had to act - handsome or not, he was your direct source to get to know the Resistance and you wouldn’t miss the opportunity even if it was the handsomest and the most important fucking pilot they had. Of course, It would’ve been easier if the source was a chubby bald older dude, but, oh well, nobody’s perfect. Plus, you were becoming more and more confident these days so, who knows, maybe you would have just as much of a charm over the pilot yourself. Smiling to yourself about how you always managed to place yourself in situations that began like romantic movies and ended like absurd comedies, you took a quick look in the mirror, making sure you looked presentable and, jumping off the ship, approached the man who was now tapping something into his datapad, frowning slightly.

You used the moment of his concentration on the screen to attract attention to yourself:

“Um, excuse me...” you called.

The pilot looked up, frowning even more, as if surprised that anybody would address him at all. Then, seeing you, his eyes widened a little and his expression changed into a soft, almost shy smile.

“Yes?”, he replied inquisitively.

“Hi, sorry. I was just wondering, are you planning on being parked here for a while?” you asked, half-smiling.

“Oh...Maybe an hour, maybe two. Why, do you need this spot?”

“I might”, you grinned mischievously. The pilot looked a little confused but remained composed, glancing at his datapad and quickly pressing a button there before looking back up at you. You thought this behavior of yours might be scaring him and went for your usual thing - honesty: “No, I don’t, I’m sorry. I just noticed that you were wearing a Resistance helmet and I was just thinking about it when you landed so I couldn’t help but come over”, you went on, taking your chance.

“You were thinking about... my Resistance helmet?” the pilot asked, half-amused, half-confused.

“No, about the Resistance”, you smiled. “My family has a history with it, although no link remains now, and I was curious about what they’re up to these days. There’s not much information available anywhere, so I couldn’t miss an opportunity to talk to a potential Resistance pilot that landed right in front of my nose.”

“What family are you from?” the pilot inquired, looking interested now.

“Are you from the Resistance then?” you replied with a question. You didn’t want to trust a complete stranger with information about your family,even a potential (and extremely handsome) rebel. You also realized that his answer wouldn’t necessarily be true, but “Resistance pilot” is a pretty shitty cover if you want to go unnoticed,you thought. It wasn’t like your planet was a home for rebels either, so he wouldn’t be using it to get information for the First Order; considering all this, you figured he wouldn’t be landing near a public park in the middle of the day like that, sporting a Resistance helmet, if he didn’t want any questions asked.

“That is a dangerous question these days, you know” he smirked. “But I wouldn’t be here in this uniform if I was afraid of it so yep, I am with the Resistance. Who are you with?”

“I’m with me”, you answered. “I work at (organisation’s name), mainly in communications. The company isn’t really bothered by politics, at least not yet, but flying around I’m realizing that the peace won’t last long. That’s why I was wondering about you guys, I’d like to become more familiar with the work you do. I’m (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N). My uncle, with the same last name, disappeared about 30 years ago, fighting alongside your people. The family stopped looking after a while and everybody got on with their lives, so once I grew up it was already a distant memory, but an important one nonetheless. That’s the history.”

It felt weird telling a stranger all this, but your gut told you you could trust him and you had learned over the years that you should trust your intuition, so you went with it, hoping it wouldn’t cost you your job or your life.

The pilot’s expression changed at this, he became more serious.

“General Organa and Admiral Akbar have mentioned a Captain (Y/L/N) a couple of times, as one of the brightest fighters they’ve had, actually, and one of the strangest stories as well”, he said. “Apparently he got captured and they never heard of him since - no confirmed death either, but...most likely. If he really was your uncle, I’m sorry”, he said earnestly.

Hearing the name of Leia Organa in such a casual way made your heart skip a beat - she used to be a Princess, admired by the entire galaxy, a household name when you were little. The way the pilot said all this, especially the part about being sorry, was honest, and if you had learned to read people by this time - and everybody said you were pretty good at it - he meant it.

“I’m Poe, by the way, Poe Dameron”, he smiled and extended his hand to you. You shook it, your heart racing a little at the touch. His hand was warm but not unpleasantly, and his handshake firm, but not too rigid. It lasted a little longer than necessary, your eyes meeting his for a brief second between shaking hands and letting go, and you could’ve sworn you both felt the spark flying between you. Honest human contact wasn’t exactly in abundance these days and you knew, during that little moment, as clearly as anything you’d ever learnt, that this connection wasn’t one to let go of.

“Nice to meet you, Poe Dameron”, you smiled. “Your name sounds cool”

“Nice to meet you too, (Y/N)”, he smiled back. “Thanks, your name is pretty. Unusual, but I like the sound of it”

“You don’t have to say it back, you know”

“But I mean it! It’s not my fault that you said it first!”, he argued and you both laughed.

“So, what are you doing here, Poe Dameron from the Resistance?”, you asked lightly.

“Back at the tricky questions again, then.”, he joked. “What, can’t a guy enjoy a sunny day at the park without having an ulterior motive? I like coming here before or after the missions to unwind a little. This place is pretty neutral and allows a much needed peace of mind. I don’t have much time left, do you wanna walk with me a little, grab a coffee or something? And I can tell you all about the Resistance”, Poe suggested, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly.

“And there I was about to believe that you had no ulterior motives.”, you shook your head. “But my suspicions were true - they send you here as a poster boy to lure people into joining the Resistance. Not a bad strategy, I give them that.”

“Says the girl who invented a lame parking lot question to interrogate me about said Resistance.”

“Like I said, not a bad strategy”, you smiled. “Coffee?”

You were clearly getting yourself into one of those movie scenarios again, the most fantastic one so far. Only this time you didn’t want to let your doubts hold you back. So you let the warm sensation linger, looking again at the beautiful features of the man in front of you, the corners of his eyes crinkled by his smile. It would definitely make one hell of a story, and at least a memorable one-night stand. You tried not to build your hopes too high about the Resistance.

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #the force awakens #the last jedi

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imagine-that-one-thing · 8 years ago

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Styles & Co. - Part 11

Authors Note: Hey everyone! I am like swimming in my ideas and slowly drowning because I just don’t know which ideas to use and how to piece them together. Which is why it is taking me so long to get the chapters written. Again, I apologise for the dialogue. I can’t help it! Enjoy. Xx

You can find my Blurbs HERE and the other Chapters HERE

It has been a week since I first started working at Meyer Enterprise, being his assistant isn’t really that bad. I honestly thought it would be worse.

I have barely seen Harry, he hasn’t managed to come home for too long; I think the longest he was at the house was Sunday when he accidentally slept in. I haven’t really been too concerned about it, I am more concerned about the prenup we are yet to discuss and the fact that I am meant to go to New York with Logan next weekend. Logan said it had something to do with a charity event and clientele, I didn’t get the logistics of it. All I one-hundred percent know is that it will be three days in New York, two of those days strictly for business and the third a free day.

I step into the house and wander into the living room where I am surprised to view Harry.

“You finally decided to come home,” I comment with a raised brow, unsure of why he is home so early. It is eight at night and I wasn’t anticipating him to even think about leaving the office until at least two in the morning. He nods, his eyes dropping back to his laptop. I only assume he is working and going over a client’s portfolio for the night.

“I need to go to New York this weekend,” I inform him, not even bothering to ease him into the idea smoothly, either way, he is going to have his fit and make it known that he is more than likely against the idea. I know him far too well to even think for a second that he will be forthcoming and accepting of a business trip. His eyes immediately gaze up at me with their dark silvery luminosity narrowing on me as he bites his tongue. He doesn’t say anything, he just continues to stare at me with a displeased look. “Are you going to say anything?” I question, his silence not settling well with me.

His silence is like the calm before the storm. You think everything is perfect and serene, no wind, no rain, a small ray of sunshine peeking through the eclipsed clouds, then abruptly it is a twister of a substantial downpour and tremendous winds with rolling thunder.

For a moment I think he is going to keep calm and collected, but he proves me wrong the moment he opens his mouth. “I think the fuck not.” He bluntly answers, shaking his head at me disapprovingly.

“Ha-” I am promptly cut off before I can say his name.

“I think the fuck not, Elise. Don’t even bother trying to ’Harry’ me. No!”

I sigh as he pushes his laptop lid close with a rage of frustration. He stands to his feet, continuing to shake his head as I cross my arms and raise a brow.

“Are you done with your fit?”

“Elise. This conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” I shake my head, accompanying him as he wanders to the kitchen. “We are going to discuss this,” I comment, watching as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. His hand twists the cap with ease and he stares over at me.

“There is nothing to discuss, you are not going.”

It is not very often he forcefully tells me, ‘NO’ he isn’t usually unreasonably possessive or against my concepts and ideas. But, anything to do with Logan he is always on edge about now that we are working together. At some point in time, he will have to get over his bad blood.

No matter what I say it will lead to an argument, Harry is not going to win this disagreement, I don’t stop him from his business trips, I trust him fully not to do anything stupid with his assistant….

“Drop your pants,” I mutter while rather enraged with harry and his ridiculous antics and whines. We have been at it for at least an hour and I am getting sick and tired of going in circles. He is relentless and I am not giving in.

“You’re irriarional— wait, what?” He stops mid-rant, catching onto the request I made, confused and caught off guard at my comment.

“Do you need me to play with you because you’re being a grouchy child who clearly needs playing with.” I roll my eyes with a heavy huff, exhausted of this argument that is principally because of his jealousy and need to control things.

“That’s not nice,” he shakes his head, “and I don’t need fondling.” He utters with stern eyes.

I can’t help my thoughts and words, letting them slip effortlessly, “You sure? Sounds like it since you’re not getting enough attention.”

“Are you offering?” He crosses his arms over his chest, forming a smirk across his smug face, infuriating me further. He has the nerve to offer me that smug grin across his face, that damn grin that sends my head spinning at times.

“No! You’re fucking annoying. I am going to this business thing!” I groan, throwing my hands up in the air out of frustration, “you, you are just so damn—” I huff, unable to find the right words to illustrate how I feel about him.

“You’re not going to New-fucking-York with that twat, it’s bad enough you’re working for him.” He shakes his head, refusing to budge on the New York trip with Mr.Meyer, “I know how these business trips work with the assistant.” He continues, my eyes narrowing down on him,

“Be careful what you say. You have a fucking assistant who isn’t exactly hideous.” I bring to his attention, keeping my tone of voice relatively calm considering the fact he is insinuating that I and my boss are going to become scandalous and do the cliche thing that happens in devious movies.

He shakes his head, clearly not wanting to change his mind about my trip to New York. “You are not going.” His voice is firm, but not firm enough for me to back down.

He needs to learn to draw a line between business and our relationship. His CEO glare and firm tone isn’t going to work with me.

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re my fiancée and I say no.” I raise a brow as the words escape his lips, the fact that he’s trying to label our relationship as a way to stop my business trip is just irritating. He takes a step closer, his eyes dark as they narrow down on me, his lips pursed into a fine line.

“You are being an overly controlling twat at the moment,” I inform him, not approving his CEO side that’s unleashing itself in the midst of our disagreement.

“You are mine,” he continues, making it known that I am in fact with him. He doesn’t need to say it out loud for us all to know that we are fucking dating, engaged for that matter.

“I am not your possession, Harry.” I softly remind him as he shuffles closer to me while I lean against the armrest of the couch.

“No, you are not, but I don’t like the man, Elise. I don’t want you on a business trip with him.” He continues, his hand pressing against my thigh as I stay perched against the armrest of the couch, “I don’t want him getting ideas, or doing this.” He continues, his hand slowly rubbing his thumb on my inner thigh. I roll my eyes at him, refraining from telling him how fucking stupid he truly is. Like I am going to allow Meyer to even put his hand near my thigh. It is pretty clear that is Harry’s territory.

“You’re jealous. You’re all I want, he’s just my boss.” I assure him with a grin, entirely admiring his determined eyes, firmly pressed lips, and his ‘I’m a fucking CEO, I run this show’ gaze. There’s just something about the way he looks when he doesn’t get his own way that’s enticing.

“’M not jealous.” He mumbles as he shakes his head, drawing a delicate giggle from my lips. He’s lying through his teeth. Jealousy is the definition for his behaviour. “And it is my birthday weekend, that twat is literally taking you and my birthday celebrations.“ He brings up the fact that it is, in fact, his birthday weekend that I am meant to be going to New York, but it isn’t like we can celebrate.

I can’t throw him a surprise party, he hates surprises and getting him to show up on time, or at all would be astonishingly troublesome, he barely manages to make it home before the sun rises. He is literally strung out on coffee and presumably will be this way for a few more weeks until things settle down within his business. He doesn’t tell me much detail, but apparently, the business world is in cahoots. Maybe Logan will fill me in if I pry enough.

“Harry, you are so busy I figured you would spend it working.”

“Did you at least consider that maybe I would want to do something?” He crosses his arms, sounding a little childish at the moment, I honestly believe it is the coffee and the lack of sleep currently talking. He doesn’t tend to give two fucks about his own birthday. I had to remind him last year when he woke up that it was his birthday.

“Harry, you don’t even care about it. You are just bringing it up for ammunition in this argument.” I shake my head, “Not to mention you missed our five year anniversary. FIVE, that trumps me missing your birthday.” I remind him of how he neglected to even enable me to plan anything for our celebrations. He did not have time to get breakfast, lunch, or dinner, so I showed up at his office with takeout and forced him to eat with me. Although, I can’t complain too much because he did send me his signature gift of roses- this year he sent one-hundred roses to my office and was gracious enough to add my favourite chocolate to the mix, along with a vinyl to add to our collection.

“You are not going.” He shakes his head, seeming determined to win this disagreement. I roll my eyes before walking away from him. “Elise, would you want me to go on a business trip with my assistant?” .. “Fuck, bad example.” He huffs as I turn on my heel to glare at him.

I don’t need to remind him of the many business trips he has taken his clients and previous assistants on.

“Do I get a say in anything?” He follows me up the staircase and I ignore him, continuing to ignore his comments as he trails me to the bedroom. “Elise…” He insists on dragging my attention over to him, my eyes meeting his. I bite my lip, delighted by how annoyed he looks. It is positively a turn on.

“Harry..” I grin, holding back my chuckle has he frustratedly sighs, biting his lip.

“Elise, do I get a say in anything?” He raises a brow, seeming to want an answer. I shrug, still grinning as he stares at me.

“You are so damn frustrating sometimes.” He mutters in an irritated tone.

‘Oh, baby, I know I am.’

I step closer to him, pressing my hands to his chest, my fingertips brushing the softness of his t-shirt. I caress my lips to his neck, leaving wet kisses along his skin, a small moan escaping his previously exasperated lips. “Elise… What are you doing?” His voice is raspy as I tenderly bite down, making it obviously known what my attentions are. If he allows it.

“I’m frustrated, too.” I murmur against the smoothness of his skin, “really, frustrated.” I whisper, sucking lightly on his neck, tenderly dragging my mouth away to view a small red mark beginning to make itself known. I glance up and see him grinning, his eyes denoting an intrigued gleam.

“Elle, we are meant to be mid-argument.” He breathes out as I deliberately move my hand down to glide against the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Shhh.” I touch my finger to his lips, “I don’t want to argue.” I whisper as I remove my finger and press my lips against his, drawing him in for a passionate kiss….

***

I gradually open my eyes, an irritating knocking sound on my door removing me from my slumber. I launch the heavy hotel covers off my body before groggily making my way to the door; I open it slightly, peeking through the crack, only opening it widely when I notice the familiar head of curls.

“Harry, it’s like two in the morning,” I mumble, confused as to why he’s standing in front of my hotel room, in New York at this ungodly hour.

“Didn’t think I’d let you stay here alone, did you?” His eyes are dark, his tone of voice making it known that he isn’t too satisfied with the arrangements of me being in New York. “Are you going to let me in? Or did Meyer manage to weasel his way into your room?” His voice is raspy and irritated.

I let him into the room, his bag brushing against the wall as marches his way in. I close the door and let out a heavy sigh, observing as he slides his thick coat down his lengthy arms, draping the coat over the desk chair before his hands rest at the hem of his sweater, he turns to me with a raised brow, “reason why you’re staring?” He questions,

“Because I’m allowed,” I respond, crawling on the bed as he slides his sweater off his body, stripping himself down to nothing but his boxer briefs, wasting no time with crawling into the comfort of the linen sheets. “This conversation will arise in the mornin’ won’t it?” I exhale, pulling at the comforter as he rolls onto his side, allowing me to take up most the covers,

“You fucking know it.” He responds dryly, clearly expressing his distaste for me being in New York against his desires.

I warned him I was going to get on the plane and go… He just refused to acknowledge that I was not bluffing.

Harry arriving last night was somewhat unexpected; I figured he wasn’t over his childish fit, but I didn’t think he’d get the first flight out the minute he realised that I was in New York.

I let out a heavy breath, my mind already circling the various thoughts I have regarding the day I am about to endure. Logan said something about a fresh project he is wanting to start on— what it is I have absolutely no idea— although it would justify why he arranged for me to rearrange his schedule for the day. The minute we landed he had me changing his client meetings and what not.

Who knew he would have so much to do in New York, yet so little time?

In my opinion, there’s no way he can manage everything in three days, but that’s not up to me to decide. His wish is my command.

I peer over and notice Harry fast asleep, half the covers off of his body and bundled up on my side of the bed. It’s on rare occasions do I ever find him snuggled up with the covers, he is warm-bodied and tends to kick the covers off himself in the middle of the night.

For a few moments, I watch him sleep, content with how peaceful he looks and how he is belatedly sleeping for more than three hours at a time. I can’t help but admire the way his eyes flutter when he’s dreaming, how his lips twitch imperceptibly and how his hand is always close to my body if it isn’t touching me. Even when we are exasperated with each other he keeps his fingertips close to me; I’ve always assumed it was a comfort thing for him and I’ve never really questioned it. It’s comforting for me to know that I’m at the tip of his fingers no matter what, it’s a little bit of a safe haven type of feeling.

I let out a heavy sigh as I come to terms with the fact that I need to pry myself from the warm bed and my sleeping fiancé. I carefully inch to the edge of the bed, promptly forcing myself off the bed with as little disturbance to Harry as possible. I hear him moan and the sheets rustle. I bite my lip and glance over my shoulder to look at him, appreciative that he’s still fast asleep.

I glide my grey coat up my arms, adjusting my scarf as I overhear the sound of Harry moving within the bed. I turn on my heel and observe him moving erratically, mumbling a few incoherent things, a few moans escaping his lips.

I press my hand mildly to his exposed arm, rubbing it benevolently as I attempt to lure him away from what I am assuming is a nightmare.

“Harry, hey, hey, it’s okay,” I murmur and he abruptly opens his eyes, his body jerking insignificantly with a heavy breath. “It’s okay, it’s just me,” I assure him with a tender smile, my hand pushing back his hair as he lets out a few heavy breaths. He lifts his hand to rub his drowsy eyes before gazing up at me. He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes, making me chuckle somewhat.

I have always found it extremely charming the way he is after he’s experienced a nightmare. He tends to stare at me for a brief moment, never saying a word as he comes to terms with the fact that it was all just a dream. Without a doubt, he always moves within the bed and falls back asleep relatively instantly, half the time he doesn’t even remember me waking him up when I ask him about his nightmares. I reach over and carefully pull the sheet over his body, his hand now resting on my side of the bed. I lean down and kiss his warm cheek before leaving him to continue sleeping.

***

Logan Meyer has been reserved the past twenty minutes as his driver takes us to a site that has yet to be disclosed to me. I asked just specifically where we were going and Logan told me it was just a short drive.

I step out of the car and view towards Meyer, puzzled as to where the hell I am and what the hell we are doing.

“Elise, this way.” He motions towards the left and I immediately take his side, “Brooklyn, one of New York City’s five boroughs, sits on the western end of Long Island.” Logan starts, expressing the fact that we are no longer on 7th Avenue, but now in Brooklyn for a reason, I’m still unaware of.

Considering the fact I am his assistant, he seems to have kept me in the dark with today’s shenanigans. “Well, I’m sure you can read up on the history yourself.” He chuckles, and I nod.

We arrive at a moderately comprehensive building. I take a glimpse around as we step in and I take notice of how it isn’t entirely completed with renovations. I glance over at Meyer, awaiting an explanation as to why we are here. I highly doubt he chose to meet a business client in the midst of a building undergoing maintenance. “This is one of my other locations and investments. Soon to be fully renovated with a contemporary and classy look to it.” He begins, promptly giving me a small tour of his building.

In my opinion, it seems like this was an impulse sort of decision, the structure doesn’t represent anything like his London one does. Not to mention this seems like a very odd building that Logan would want to use purely for busines. It does not strike me as an office type of building. I would much prefer it to be something more in the range of a modest business, perhaps a first-time partnership just starting, or even a building devoted to Art.

“What do you think, Elise?” Logan distracts me as I admire the barren wall that would be perfect with three large canvases hailed across it, perhaps three black and white works of art to convey a positive connotation.

I look towards Logan and ponder for a moment on how to answer his question. “Honestly, I don’t understand why you chose a building like this. The architecture does not seem like it would be very beneficial for a business such as yours.” I answer honestly, curious as to why he chose this specific building.

“Observant, I see.” He nods, “But, I saw potential in the building. Let’s just say everyone had their eyes on this precious building. Why? I am going to find out.” He smirks with cunning eyes. I furrow my eyebrows, uncertain of what he means by everyone and what he intends to find out.

I take another glance around, “Logan, what do you mean?” I curiously challenge.

“Just that I want to know why people were so interested in this building.It must be sentimental or something. Come on, I should get you back so you can get ready for the charity event.” .. “I expect you re-read my speech for me.”

I nod, “I did, it is well-written.” I inform him, following him out of his building.

“You will be expected to make a donation at the event and to make me look good.” He begins as we commence to walk back towards the car, my heels sounding against the concrete, my coat barely shielding me from the freezing harshness of the weather.

“I will make a donation.” I nod, “And I will make you look good.” I assure him. It isn’t like I would make him look bad at a charity event, public humiliation is not my thing, not to mention he writes my cheques and I at least want to receive my first cheque before pissing my own boss off.

I step into my hotel room and notice Harry awake and relaxing on the bed, flicking through the television stations; a sight I don’t see too often. Usually, he has his phone or his laptop occupying him and the television playing in the background. He glances over at me and I give him a small smile, assuming that he’s far from satisfied with me and that there’s no chance I managed to avoid our conversation he dearly promised me when he arrived last night.

I glide off my coat, enabling it to hang over the desk chair as I slide off my heels, relieved to finally have a few hours without a pair of tight heels around my feet.

“How was working?” I’m taken back by his question, I was expecting him to pounce on me with his reasons for still being pissed.

For a moment I glance at him with a perplexed expression, my brows furrowed and my lips pursed into a straight line. “It was fine,” I respond, leaning against the desk, my fingers curling over the edge, my eyes continuing to meet his. “Harry, I’m surprised you’re not ripping into me with a whole essay on why you’re pissed with me.” I bring to his attention, uncertain of why he is so calm and collected while lying on the bed.

“Well, I did have a whole argument set out and ready, but, I don’t really feel like arguing. You’re here and I quite appreciated sleeping, so I guess we can just move on.” .. “but, don’t fucking pull this shit on me again, making me think I won and then sneaking away to New York without telling me.”

“I did tell you I was going.” I remind him, “you just refused to listen.” I add, making sure it is known that he knew I was going, he just didn’t want to accept it.

He shakes his head, “No, we ended the argument which sounded like you were siding with me and not coming here.”

“I’m sorry you thought that us having sex meant that you won. I just found you attractive as fuck while enraged.” I shrug, watching as he rolls his eyes at me. He sighs before pressing his hand beside him, gesturing for me to crawl on the bed and lie beside him.

“Your Birthday is tomorrow. What would you like to do?” I softly challenge, uncertain of what the hell he would like to do.

Dinner? A movie? Something extravagant?

“I don’t know.” … “I’m kinda disappointed that I’m stuck in New York sharing you with the twat on my birthday.”

“Harry.” I sigh, biting my lip and taking a breath, “I’m sorry it isn’t what you wanted. Tell me what you want to do. Do you want to do something adventurous? Ride a helicopter? I don’t fucking know what you want to do.” I huff, having no decent ideas on what to do for his birthday.

He chuckles as I crawl onto the bed, settling down in front of him. “Baby, I don’t want anything extravagant. I want something low key, preferably just me and you.” He reveals, destroying my thoughts on seeing if his sister could possibly fly out tomorrow and surprise him, they haven’t seen each other in a while. Coming to think about it, he hasn’t made the drive to see his family since he visited last June for his Mum’s birthday. Seven months ago. That is far too long.

“You need to go visit your family.” I inform him, “It has been a while.“

"I know, I know.” He sighs, “You know things have been busy. We are going to drive up there soon.” He announces, gently pulling me into his lap, my body straddling him.

“We?” I raise a brow. Last time he went on his own, I didn’t mind because he really needed time with just his family.

“Yes, WE.” He emphasises the we. “They want to see you.”

“Yeah, but it should be just you guys, you need family time.”

“And you are going to be apart of the family.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to my lips.

“Mhm, okay.” I nod with a grin, “Have you told your parents?"

"No, I was going to do it in person. They knew I was proposing at some point though.” He informs me, “I assume you haven’t told yours.”

“Nope wanted to do it in person.” .. “Hey, I need to get ready for this charity event. While I get ready think of something you want to do for your big day.” I press another kiss to his lips before getting off of him with him whining, wanting more than just a few kisses.

While I get ready, Harry splits his attention between the television and admiring me. He doesn’t do it subtly, he makes it obvious when he is appreciating his view.

“Quit yeh gawking.” I chuckle, sliding my dress up my body, “Can you help?” I softly challenge, unable to zip the back of my dress up. He promptly gets off the bed and shuffles himself closer to me, kindly zipping up my dress.

I turn around to face him, a smile curved on his lips, “You look beautiful.” He compliments me, causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach. Even after so many years he still praises me and manages to arise butterflies in my stomach.

“You look nice yourself.” I wink, leaning up and kissing him sweetly. “But, I need to go. I think he is waiting on me already.” I groan, watching as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Okay, be careful, and if he pulls a move while you look this good, call me and I will deal with him.” He smiles, probably picturing his fist against Logan Meyers cheek. Harry would like that far too much.

“I love you,” I whisper between us, falling for his eyes for the hundredth time.

“I love you, too, Elle.” He kisses me again before enabling me to finally leave.

I pull my coat tighter around me as the swirling cold air sending shivers throughout my body on this cold night. My gaze meets Harry’s as I reach the corner of seventh Avenue, his black coat draped around him, his scarf around his neck.

“Do I need to kill him?” He questions, “Is that why you got me to meet you here?” I continue, his eyes dark and full of fury.

I shake my head, leaning up and kissing him sweetly before stretching away.

“It is midnight,” I inform him of it just passed midnight a few minutes ago.

“Yes. And?"

"Happy Birthday Birthday boy!” I exhale a little loudly, an eager grin painted across my face as I kiss him again.

“Thank you.” He chuckles against my lips, “Is that why you got me out here?? It is bloody freezing… I was looking forward to knocking the hell out of your boss.” He sighs with a small pout. I roll my eyes and take his hand, gently leading him to step into the small shop he had been standing outside of.

I smile politely at the woman who was kind enough to stay overtime so I could pick up my small order.

“I am so sorry,” I breathe, instantly opening my purse as she places a white box on the glass counter and Harry grabs it. She shakes her head with a sweet smile

“It is no problem, sweetheart.” She assures me. I recognise Harry’s hand sneaking to try to take a glimpse of what is in the box and I tenderly nudge him.

“No,” I mutter, not wanting him to open the box, not yet.

I pay the lady the amount promised when she agreed to extend her hours just for me before I again thank her and pull Harry out of the dimly lit shop.

“Now can I open the box?” He questions curiously, seeming eager to open the box even though he has no idea what is inside it.

“How do you know it is for you?” I raise a brow at him, standing in front of him on the corner. He shrugs, his lips pursing into a fine line.

“Wel… I don’t. But I am curious.”

“Mhm. Happy Birthday.” I gesture towards the box, allowing him to open the white box.

He is a hard person to surprise or to buy things for; Harry has the means to buy whatever the hell he desires, when he desires it, not to mention, he said he wants things to stay low-key.

He chuckles as his eyes view twenty-six cupcakes decorated flawlessly and in his favourite flavour and colours.

“You are so cute. Thank you for my cupcakes.” He smiles, placing a delicate kiss on my cheek.

Everyone loves cupcakes and since he wanted to be low key, there is nothing better than allowing him to indulge in the best cupcakes recommended to me in New York.

“You are welcome, there should be thirty.” I joke playfully as we walk side by side towards the hotel.

“Alright, I am not that old. You are not much younger than me.” He reminds me of how I am indeed decently close to his age.

The small walk back towards the hotel is full of soft chuckles and sweet conversations, along with some playful banter.

We reach the room and he sits on the bed, still holding his box of cupcakes while continuing to tell me about the hockey game he went and saw while I was at the charity event with Meyer. I smile to myself, his voice continuing to enchant me, even though I have no idea what the hell he is talking about. Hockey is not my kind of sport, I have no clue about it, besides the fact that there is a black puck that needs to be hit into the net.

“Oh, Babe, I met this artist tonight too. He showed me a few of his designs and they are really nice.” He changes the subject as I pour some wine into two glasses. “I showed him the rose tattoo, and he said it was neat.” He continues like an overly excited child.

“So, he is a tattoo artist?” I glance over my shoulder to look at him and he nods,

“Yes, love.”

“Are you thinking of painting that beautiful skin of yours again?” I softly ask, turning around with the two glasses in my hands.

“Well… I don’t know, what do you think?” He smiles up at me as he takes the wine from my hand.

“I think that if you touch your rose tattoo I might just stop talking to you,” I respond, being remarkably fond of his rose design. It is so perfectly composed into his skin.

Nobody really gets to see his few tattoos, I am one of the only ones who get the privilege, and that rose is my favourite.

“I know how much you like it, wouldn’t dream of touching it.” He assures me as I sit on the bed, positioning myself to sit in front of him.

“To the Birthday Boy that I love a little too much, even when he babbles on about Hockey and tattoos.” I wink, holding my glass up to him. He rolls his eyes cutely before adding to my speech.

“Thank you. And to my fiancee who forces me out of bed at midnight just so I can meet her on the corner to receive cupcakes.” He clinks his glass against mine and we take a sip each.

“Oh wait!” I smile, getting off the bed, remembering the candle that came along with the cupcakes. I step back towards the bed and open the box, taking out a candle and pressing the candle to sit inside it.

“Are you serious?” He chuckles, watching me light the candle.

“Mhm, make a wish.” I smile, handing him the cupcake. He laughs to himself, the cupcake in his hand, his eyes diverting their attention down to it. With a smile on his face, he blows out the candle. “Did you make a wish?"

"Yes. Did you buy a lighter just for this one candle?” He takes the candle out of the cupcake and hands it to me, already taking a bite of it.

“Mhm, never know when you will need one.” I wink, chuckling as he indulges in the cupcake.

He proceeds to tell me about his night, from the Hockey Game to the new people he met, to somehow getting lost with one of his business mates. Such an intelligent man, and yet he manages to get himself and his friend lost in the streets of New York after a hockey game.

I would not be surprised if they had a few beers which resulted in them getting slightly lost.

“How did you get lost? MSG is literally a straight drive from here.” I promptly question.

He gives me an innocent smirk, his eyes shining a beautiful shade of grey.

“Well, we had a few beers and we were trying to find a restaurant.” ..“I mean, we weren’t drunk, but the person in charge of directions was a bit too giggly.”

“Was that person you?” I raise a brow, his glass of wine reaching his lips. He shakes his head.

“No, I took charge and got us lost further because I typed in the wrong address on my phone.” He informs me and I can’t help but giggle.

Hearing him being lighthearted and not so uptight is one of my favourite things to hear. It is not too often he has funny stories to tell me.

Maybe, this small trip to New York has benefited him.

The smile on his face is enough for me to just sit and listen while I sip on the wine, admiring his eagerness to for once have the liberty to appreciate his time and to inform me about his day without being exhausted.

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marginalgloss · 7 years ago

Text

the getting of bastards

The Reverse of the Medal features the first proper return of Patrick O’Brian’s historical novels to English shores in what seems like a long time. The internal chronology is difficult to establish, since it seems to have been 1812 for a very long time in this world; but it has been several books since Jack and Stephen were back in London, at any rate. On paper it’s notable for being, like The Mauritius Command, another example of the author casting some of his own characters in the place of actual historical figures. The author’s note is candid in its admission that the story is effectively a retelling of a real scandal that involved Lord Cochrane, one of the great seamen of that period. But the book takes some liberties with history, and pursues its own ends at its own pace in telling this particular story.

(Considerable, unavoidable spoilers to follow.)

After the events of The Far Side of the World, the HMS Surprise is slowly making its way home. The expectation is that it’ll be their last journey on that vessel, perhaps forever; there’s a brief by typically gripping sea chase with a privateer, but otherwise, the central event of the early part of the book is the sudden appearance of a young man bearing proof that he is Jack’s son:

‘‘God’s my life,’ said Jack, and after a moment he slowly began to open the package. It contained a sperm-whale’s tooth upon which he had laboriously engraved HMS Resolution under close-reefed topsails when he was a very young man, younger even than the tall youth facing him; it also contained a small bundle of feathers and elephant’s hair bound together with a strip of leopard’s skin...’

The surprise is not so much that Jack should have fathered a bastard; it’s that the bastard should announce himself so suddenly as an educated young black man. He, Samuel Panda, was raised by Catholic missionaries, and appears to have become one too. His appearance in this book is a curious thing: Samuel pops up with little warning, seemingly asks nothing of his father, and he disappears soon after. Though he merits some mention later, it seems like O’Brian is only setting him up here to do something else with him in a later story.

And yet this idea of the illegitimate child making an unexpected reappearance serves as a perfect thematic touchstone for this novel. There’s much which comes home to roost here, and we see here a great drawing together of many of the political threads that have been spinning out in ever longer, ever tangled lines through the previous books. For a long time our heroes were protected from the consequences of their actions simply by being on a ship far away from the rest of the world; now they are back at the centre of the industrialised world, and the world is very much taking an interest in them.

But here, more so than ever before in the series, the book really feels like a celebration of all that has come before. Not only are all our old favourite characters here and on show, they’re gently re-introduced, and sometimes championed. There are whole sequences here which don’t really have any purpose except to be utterly, utterly charming; I’m thinking in particular of the endless cricket match with Jack and his old crew, into which Maturin wanders; and the long and beautifully absurd sequence where the men quite literally take apart every piece of Jack’s house, clean it all, and put it back together, in time for the long-awaited reappearance of his wife. None of this needs to happen for the plot of the book; but it does, and it’s wonderful. As so often in O’Brian’s writing, the musical quality of his prose reaches a peak in those moments when nothing in particular is happening:

‘A cheer from far away changed the current of his mind, and some moments later this was followed by the peculiarly English sound of a bat striking a ball and then by further cries. He passed quickly through what Jack called the rose-garden – lucus a non lucendo – through the shrubbery to the edge of the hill and there below him on a broad meadow was a game of cricket all laid out, the fielders in their places, keenly attentive to the bowler as he went through his motions, the sound of the stroke again, the batsmen twinkling between the wickets, fielders darting for the ball, tossing it in, and then the whole pattern taking shape again, a formal dance, white shirts on the green.’

Having finished the book I think more and more often of those scenes of togetherness. It is in these, I think, in which the book really shows its inner light. Aubrey’s crew are one big family here, one which at times outshines Aubrey’s own actual family. Sophie and the children are present, but their role is relegated to distant, smiling bystanders; and curiously, Diana Viliers is written out of the story through a strange sort of narrative contrivance. But it is the sailors as a collective who really matter here. Each is given his own little moment — Babbington, who began this series as barely more than a boy, is now a captain, and gets his own romantic sub-plot — and there’s even some good lines for the walk-on Irishman, Padeen (‘Will your honor explain the Saxon game now?’). All of this is necessary because in the end they all step up as required to save Aubrey from himself.

Maturin’s position is, as ever, set askance to the rest. He is a beloved part of the crew, but at the same time, he will never quite be the same as them. It’s significant that his main job here is to keep them together by stumping up from his (conveniently vast, hidden) private fortune: he buys the HMS Surprise, which was otherwise due for the wrecker’s yard, with the intent of giving it to Jack. He states several times throughout this book that he’s doing it to save Jack from ‘going mad’ on shore, but his own true reasons are oblique. There’s a real sense, I think, in which Maturin would submit to something much darker if he were divorced utterly from somebody’s service, and left to his own devices. But though he literally says at one point that his personality makes for a poor deux ex machina, that’s exactly his role here; one is tempted to wonder how many other times Jack Aubrey’s career might have come to an ignoble end, had it not been for Stephen’s quiet machinations.

If the events of the scandal follow history, the outcome differs for dramatic effect. What happens is that Jack Aubrey is set up in a kind of stock exchange fraud, which turns out to be far more serious than his previous trouble for private debts. It’s fairly obvious to all concerned that he’s been put up to it by political enemies of his father, but Jack himself has the utmost faith in the British legal system to clear him of any wrongdoing. His judgment on land is, as ever, entirely misguided; he is sentenced to be pilloried.

This is where the outcome of the story differs from history; Cochrane was also found guilty, but he was never actually put in the stocks, since he was so popular that the authorities feared inciting a riot. Aubrey doesn’t quite have such luck. Though his life is in danger – it wasn’t unknown for people to be very badly hurt from the pillory – the thing that upsets him most is the loss of his position:

‘For to Jack Aubrey the fact of no longer belonging to the Navy counted more than a thousand pillories, the loss of fortune, loss of rank, and loss of future. It was in a way a loss of being, and to those who knew him well it gave his eyes, his whole face, the strangest look.’

This is, in fact, about all we see of his feelings about it. The upstanding Englishman with a distant stare, accepting his fate with a quiet grace that betrays a deeper sense of betrayal. But his men won’t allow him to come to harm. They pour into London, all the old Navy salts who served with him, and they literally crowd out those who’ve arrived with malicious intent. It’s a neat way of drawing a distinction between the good hearted men who serve and the corrupt establishment who command; but again, this seems to me less vital to the novel than the picture of a big, tough, happy family, all gathered around one patriarch to literally shelter him from the world.

It’s an odd thing, the pillory scene. It’s carried off very well. It is not really a serious threat, in the end; it has all the brisk, funny, heartwarming bluster of a Hollywood movie. It might be one of the most affecting moments in the series so far. But what’s remarkable is how sparse it is. O’Brien has this repeated tendency, seen in almost all the novels so far, of cutting off his crescendo just before it hits what we expect to be the most powerful notes. The reader feels they are about to see the scene of Jack in cold irons bound before a jeering crowd; they might even want to know how he would feel, in his head.

But when the thing happens, we’re immediately transported to after the event. We get neither the trauma of the event itself, nor do we encounter his immediate feelings when he’s saved. It’s as though all this might be inconceivable. The author gently whisks us away to someplace else entirely. I can’t quite decide how to feel about this constant sense of climax deferred which comes so often with O’Brian. I enjoy the drama of it, but as so often I’m left with the sense of an author who would prefer not to dwell too long on the worst implications of his own suggestions.

Perhaps the book’s ultimate suggestion is that this what separates great leaders from the merely adequate. Perhaps they belong, in the end, to something bigger than the organisation which sustains them. It would be nice to think so, though I can’t think of many examples from our own age.

For me the vision of Jack’s fall from grace works best on the level of human fantasy. There is something wonderfully comforting about the idea of being protected from the world by an actual body of humanity; a body all the more potent for acting of its own free will, and not through discipline. It is a little like the feeling of comfort I get from reading these books: they really do block out the modern world in a way few other novels can. There’s something redemptive, even triumphant, about it: of how Jack’s small wrongness in the moment is overcome by a wider injustice of his trial, only for that to be overcome again by the moment of solidarity. Any reader would want it for themselves, surely; any writer too, perhaps.

#books #patrick o'brian #the reverse of the medal

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