#every time i post something i’m like ‘okay so choose a new career path’

[literaila]

hi, i want to start writing stories, and i admire your work, and i have a few questions if you don't mind, have you always been good at writing, do you write something everyday and how did you feel confident enough to start posting your work?

have i always been good at writing? no. absolutely not. i have always written things (evidence: the 1k novel i wrote in third grade about a dolphin adopted by a lobster which lacked quotation marks) if that’s what you’re asking.

writing, like all things, only truly improves with practice (and reading, absorbing information is no joke). sometimes i read things i wrote in the last year and have to sit and question myself for a good hour on exactly what i was thinking. my first work on tumblr was god awful, but i can admire it from afar because it got me where i am.

i personally think i lack the natural affinity for writing because i struggled in school and couldn’t really read until i was 10, but you’ll find your niche and it’ll work out.

do i write something everyday? ummm unfortunately no. i certainly think about writing every day, but typically i write 2-3 times a week during a good writing period. though! i wish i was disciplined enough to write something everyday because if would probably make writing a lot easier and less strenuous for me

(take that with a grain of salt though because i have a terrible attention span and can’t sit still for periods longer than 10 minutes. recently i’ve been writing when we’re slow at work, if that means anything to you)

how did i feel confident enough to start posting my work? simply put, i didn’t. i still don’t most days. writing is an entirely debilitating experience in my opinion and it sucks! i hate it! it makes me feel like walking on a thousand legos!

but if you’re feeling nervous about posting something, i encourage you to just do it. don’t worry about what others will think. when i posted my first story (on here, don’t ask about the eras before) i didn’t really like it, but my readers did. and that made it worth it to keep posting more. if you’ve got an idea that you’re passionate about, go for it! no one’s going to write it like you will.

honestly, i try not to take my writing too seriously (and i do a terrible job, obviously) because it’s supposed to be an escape from all of the terrible things about the world. so i’ll keep pretending it is an escape (wink wink). so, write whatever story you want, and post it on every platform across the earth. someone, like me, will love it.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

perfect now - a close reading

only pure and true love for this one. it’s soft and sweet because the one he wrote it for is and needs cheesy uncool romcom soundtrack-worthy affirmations and it’s the most wonderful thing oh my the flurries 

some album booklet art for your viewing pleasure

((just a warning for below: while the lyric analysis was kept fairly neutral and close to the words and their meaning, more and more parallels did ensure me larrying out by the time the analysis kicked off so if you’re not into that, you can skip this one!))

⟼ check out @bluewinnerangel​ ‘s magnificent post with all the parallels to 1d/h&l bc it’s exhaustive and was a source for mine <3 thank you again for your service <3 bc this song really is a fanpiece of every song that has been important to them throughout their career so far, whether they wrote it or not, and it’s honestly kinda impressive

SUMMARY

you’re sad and i love you so much i will do anything to make that undone but while you’re sad know that i sill very much love you and you’re also strong enough to conquer all of this on your own but i’ll be by your side anyway

lyric breakdown ft. the many parallels, incl. little things, through the dark and wmyb

what this says about louis, his partner and the relationship he is in

never gonna dance again frenzy

identity 

louis is a marvellous majestic sonofabitch basically <3

walls, track 10

～ little things “you still have to squeeze into your jeans, but you’re perfect to me”

You don’t feel pretty and it’s hard to miss

You don’t feel pretty and it’s hard to miss

later lyric: “like a neon sign” - i see through you trying to hide away your insecurities

I wish that you could see my point of view As someone staring back at you

“you” is also staring at him, but perhaps is too insecure to realise how mutual the adoration is

i wish i could get you out of your own negative spiral and give you a look at yourself from my perspective

～ wmyb “everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you” 

～ wmyb “right now i’m looking at you and i can’t believe you don’t know you’re beautiful”

～ little things “you never love yourself half as much as I love you, and you’ll never treat yourself right darling but I want you to. If I let you know, I’m here for you, maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you”

On Friday night when we’re all out I turn to you and you’re looking down And you don’t wanna dance I know you love to dance You never stop given half the chance

heavy echoes of kmm again, but the opposite: the “nightmare on the dance floor” doesn’t want to dance

when “you” is confident rlly not being subtle with who i think that is, they love to dance <-> tpwk “feeling good in my skin, i just keep on dancing”

“i know you love to dance” = i know what you love bc i love you

“given half the chance” 

～ tpwk “giving/given second chances”

given a chance tattoo, making another appearance (see below for more tattoo meltdowns)

Just keep your head up, love, keep your head up

term of endearment <3 

～ dlibyh

this album is full of encouragement to keep going and as much as it gives me life it ruins me 

Don’t hide away, don’t ever change

“be happy, proud”

～ “just hold on”

“pick someone who’s supportive”

Keep your head up, love, keep your head up Don’t look away, don’t look away

don’t look away from me

～ through the dark “and I can see your head is held in shame”

Cause everybody’s looking at you now, my, oh my

they have the stage to themselves / new career paths they’re doing on their own

could also mean ppl they’re going out with are looking at them, which “you” interprets as sth negative, which makes them self-conscious, while they’re actually admiring them bc they steal the scene

～ wmyb “you’re turning heads when you walk through the door”

I guess some queens don’t need a crown And I know why Even when your tears are falling down Still, somehow, you’re perfect now

“you” is royalty to louis, to put it simply 

they don’t need something on their head to make it known to everyone else - they’re a queen and everyone knows it

gendered: female - also used in drag contexts - the only time L has used any gendered word to identify his partner on the entire album (more on this below)

～ steal my girl "she's been my queen since we were sixteen" can't believe i forgot this one thank you @mortalenemiestolovers for reminding me!!!

～ falling

～ through the dark “you tell me that your tears are here to stay”

You never do, but if you asked me to I’ll tell the truth lying next to you

“you” never asks for affirmations directly, but by saying shit like their pants are too tight make it clear enough to L that they do need to hear once in a while that it’s not true

Cause you’re the only one when it’s said and done You make me feel like being someone 

Good to you even at your worst

～ always you

i love you so much you are a force of life to me, and even when you hate me i want more

～ drag me down “If I didn’t have you there would be nothing left, the shell of a man who could never be his best. If I didn’t have you, I’d never see the sun. You taught me how to be someone” (sung by louis first, harry second) 

～ through the dark “even if you scream and shout, it’ll come back to you and I’ll be here for you

You steal the scene and it’s unrehearsed

reference to working on a stage - their natural presence wins everyone over - that charisma is never manufactured

Don’t you wanna dance? Just a little dance I’ll never stop given half the chance

L keeps encouraging them, will also not pass by any chance to dance with them

Every insecurity, like a neon sign, as bright as day If you knew what you were to me You would never try to hide away

“it’s hard to miss”

L sees through them trying to hide their insecurities, pretend to be strong

～ through the dark “but I know you were only hiding”

SYNTHESIS

Perfect Now is not a fan favorite and I am so not here for that discourse, so please do not pester me with negativity about this chocolate drop of a song. 

As others have pointed out, the parallels with other songs written by Louis, Harry or for One Direction are extremely present. Especially Little Things is echoed loudly, but there’s so much more to be read, as you’ve seen. These are songs that are clearly near and dear to Louis, bc he wrote them or bc performing them was special, like with Little Things and What Makes You Beautiful. A lot of the same emotions come back in Louis’s writing, so much so that you can’t help but see the larger story behind it all. Throughout Walls you can hear him singing about not giving up and holding your head high despite hardships, and if you look back at his earlier writing, it’s always been there. Through the Dark is an early and striking example of this style of Louis song: you’re sad and i love you so much i will do anything to make that undone but while you’re sad know that i sill very much love you and you’re also strong enough to conquer all of this on your own but i’ll be by your side anyway 

basically through the dark’s chorus:

Oh, I will carry you over Fire and water for your love And I will hold you closer Hope your heart is strong enough When the night is coming down on you We will find a way Through the dark

It is very clear that Louis is faced with a partner - I can freely say it’s Harry now right? are the antis gone by now? i think so - that struggles with his body, with his identity, with how he wants to present himself vs how opinions on that might push him down and dampen his spirit. Louis, always the supportive boyfriend, then tries his best to make him see the light, while keeping that space for his sadness, his struggles, or their joint struggles. Accept the sadness but don’t lose your heart to it.

I’ve linked @bluewinnerangel​ ‘s post at the start of this post, but I need to stress how good it is once more as I also shamelessly insert a screenshot from it here bc it makes me feel a lot and summarizes perfectly just how deeply Perfect Now is woven into the history of their lives, relationship and especially “you”s/Harry’s personal struggle with their identity/body/confidence...

Because yes, i absolutely think these tattoos are being echoed in the song. “Never gonna dance again” as a lyric and then as a tattoo on Harry’s legs like shackles around his ankles represents the sensation of shame, of being stuck, bc of your desires, bc of your sexuality. Obviously we can never know why Harry got the tattoo, as in what experience pushed him to choose those lyrics or what exactly he recognizes in himself, but it’s safe to say it’s about the struggles of being queer and navigating relationships with that identity and with others.

Most importantly, the sense of shamelessly dancing, dancing like no one’s watching, dancing together with your lover, as a celebration of self, life, love, is the key here. Harry got that tattoo ages ago, at a time when he undoubtedly felt way more stuck. When he couldn’t dance freely the way he wanted to and with whom he wanted to. Perfect Now is a reminder to him, an encouragement to still dance if he wants to, no matter what people say or think. Significantly, then, Harry’s own Treat People With Kindness heavily features that same sentiment, but in an extremely positive light: i have found a place (in life and in myself) where i feel like i have given and was given second chances and now i dance bc i finally feel good in my skin.

Louis has obviously been there from the start, or at least from when or before Harry properly started experimenting with/questioning how he likes to present and how he identifies as. Before he ever dared to consider pulling on a pair of women’s skinny jeans, never mind a ball gown. Louis has seen him limit himself as well as being limited by others ofc and has always seemed to have been there, with a secure hand on Harry’s back, to encourage him. Even at a time when boys wearing nail polish or skirts was unthinkable. Just remember how much encouragement Harry needed when growing out his hair; Louis literally joined him. yes this might make me cry okay i need to stop bc i’m going off track and this is just becoming a larry breakdown while i was trying to hype up this beautiful song. 

What I’m trying to say is: Louis has always seen all of Harry. He’s always had his back, no matter what. He’s loved every part of him. And now, on a completely gender neutral album, in the sweetest, softest song off of the entire thing, Louis puts in the word “queen”, and that is so very deliberate it makes me want to scream. It’s Louis confirming his love again and again while affirming the multitudes contained by Harry, including everything involving his gender journey. brb crying

It’s a raw Louis, an honest, sweet, kind, loving partner, and both of them are fucking lucky to have each other, and I also wish that all of us end up in a caring and wholesome relationship like that. I truly do.

[treenissanderssidesstuff]

🧩 A theory you have

I keep forgetting what is and isn't a theory. But I can prove "intrusive thoughts" is a terrible descriptor for Remus to go along with my hijacking @typically-untypical's post if you want.

So this is gonna piggyback off of that Catharsis Remus post, which you should read before this for some context. As I said there, all of the sides but Janus (sorta) cause c!Thomas to have intrusive thoughts. Remus' brand of intrusive thoughts however helps restore a sense of control.

Anyone who makes dark jokes can probably relate to this pretty quickly. If you've ever been stressed about an assignment and said something like "kill me" because of it? That's Remus' brand of things. Making a joke like that makes yourself recontextualize a situation. Did you think about something dark for a moment there? Sure. However, that assignment that was stressing you out? Maybe it suddenly isn't quite so bad in the face of death. Just reminding yourself that there are technically other options and that doing the assignment for the betterment of your life is the one you're choosing is empowering. If you've laughed the joke off and felt a resurgence of drive? It's because you've re-centered yourself into a position of feeling control again and reminded yourself that whatever impossible task your facing doesn't have to be the end. The world isn't hinged on you doing something perfectly. You've made your problem small, by reminding yourself you're actively conquering a much bigger one just by being.

Okay, so now that I've given some context for what Remus' brand of intrusive thoughts are and how they're useful, let me explain how all of the lightsides have their own brand of intrusive thoughts that are both useful, but dangerous in excess.

Virgil: This one should be obvious. Anxiety is riddled with intrusive thoughts. "What if I go to the party and I make a fool of myself?" "I can't talk to that person, they'll think I'm stupid." "Is that person judging me?" "What if I can't do it?" Virgil makes c!Thomas think before he acts, which he needs we know he needs, but it can be crippling because it can make him worry too much and cause a paralysis of action. Virgil's brand of intrusive thoughts is thoughts related to a fear of what "could be." Accepting anxiety already contextualized his brand quite a bit. (Thanks Logan!)

Patton: Patton's got a one/two punch because he's morality and emotions. "Am I a bad person when I do something for myself?" "Do I deserve what I have? To be here?" "What about all of those talented people who are getting overlooked?" "Do I really deserve my friends?" "They're all so amazing though, they don't need me..." Patton's brand of intrusive thoughts is related to what "is" related to perceived expectations of people's opinion is specifically valued. He's the feeling of having to "deserve" what a person have in some way or downgrade achievements. c!Thomas' need to prove over and over again that he's actually trying and that he cares. It's a wonderful thing to want to help others, to show love and appreciation, but there is no "being good enough" if a person lets this type of guilt take over.

Roman: Roman's got that fear of failure, but in a different way than Virgil. It's more like failure induced stress. Virgil's the surface level anxiety about making a mistake, Roman's the deeper worry about not being enough that is only "proven correct" with every failure. "You didn't get/win [blank] because you're not talented enough." "You didn't work hard enough." "You should have done more, put in more effort." "You'll never match up to those other people, they deserve it." "Taking breaks is just laziness." Roman's intrusive thoughts are related to what "was" and perceptions connected to the past. He focuses on flaws and failures and causes c!Thomas to do the same. Each time a short term goal isn't met, is just fuel for that kind of self-hatred of not "doing enough." He keeps the dream alive, keeps pushing c!Thomas forward, but too much? And everything will feel useless because that self-degradation will stop being motivating and will start making c!Thomas feel inherently like a failure.

Logan: Logan's a bit of a tricky one because he's usually made to be the problem solver, but he's also had his own fair share of problems. Logan's issues are usually related to making he perceives as the "wrong" decisions. "If you had chosen a different career, you would be more stable." "People are laughing at you." "You're not acting like a proper adult." "You'll never be respected like this." Logan's intrusive thoughts are related to what "could have been," specifically an idealized version of that. It's easy to pretend things could have been better if a person had made different decisions, but different doesn't mean better. Having a job in science might have made c!Thomas appear more like a "standard adult," but would have he been happier? Probably not. If he thought at the time it would have made him happier, he probably would have chosen that path then. In some ways it can be good, because these kinds of thoughts can remind a person that there are other options if things don't work out. However, these kinds of thoughts pushed too far can make a person feel as if they've already ruined their life to the point of being irreparable, especially when their decisions go against the grain of normal expectations of society.

Janus: Janus is a little funny because he's a rule breaker (what else is new?) compared to the others. His focus is c!Thomas bettering himself, not to what others want, but to what he wants. There's no real outside stimuli related to him to cause intrusive thoughts. What he does do though, is make c!Thomas face the ones he has. He tries to breakdown the guilt, the fear, the shame by bringing it to focus and showing why it's wrong. It's the kind of thing that's painful to do in the moment, but also prevents you from hurting yourself worse. Actively explaining that you think your friends will hate you? It's uncomfortable. It hurts so much worse than passively believing it... in that moment. However, facing that perception is wrong? Prevents a lot of pain in the future of just letting yourself believe it.

And then we cycle back to Remus who in some ways, really is the garbage man, not because of how he presents himself, but because he forces c!Thomas to see what he's doing right by making him face the potential of a darker timeline and clean up the other's messes when they go to far.

[one-abuse-survivor]

Ok so, when a parent is considered healthy???I mean I've read a lot of articles about abusive parents but how does a healthy parent look like??

That’s a really good question! And I’m going to answer it with a list of traits good/non-abusive parents have, based on my experiences with my dad, on my friends’ experiences, and on other posts on the matter I’ve reblogged before with the tag #good parenting (links included). If anyone has something to add to the lists, please go for it! 

I would like to preface this by reminding everyone that nothing is black and white: some abusive parents will have traits typical of healthy parents, and some non-abusive parents won’t have all these traits. I don’t want anyone to read the list below and think that since their parents fit one or two of the traits, they can’t be abusive. My own abuser fits some of these! 

With that out of the way:

What does a healthy parent look like?

1. When they do things wrong, they own up to it.

No parent is perfect. Every single parent makes mistakes and hurts their kid without meaning to at some point in life; maybe by insisting too much or asking too many questions when their kid just wants to be left alone, maybe by not supporting their kid enough because they don’t notice their kid’s needs in time...

But the difference between a non-abusive and an abusive parent is that, upon realising they are doing something hurtful, non-abusive parents will apologise, will admit without a problem that what they did was wrong, and will do everything in their power to do better from now on. Because they care more about their kid's wellbeing than they do about being right. They care more about their kid's needs being met than they do about being held accountable.

Many abusive parents, on the other hand, will deny ever doing something wrong or look for ways to justify it, such as shifting the blame to the kids for making them mad. If you try to talk with an abusive parent about how they made you feel, they may say you’re attacking them or disrespecting them; they may call you weak/childish/disgraceful/selfish, they may act like they’re the victims in the situation, they may ignore you altogether, and a long etc.

Which brings me to the next point:

2. They don’t punish or dismiss you for feeling negative emotions toward them.

When a parent is not abusive, things like disagreeing with them, arguing with them, bantering with them, and even purposefully riling them up/rebelling against them are safe to do. Sure, they may get mad; but you won’t be scared of them if they do, because they won’t resort to violence, threats, insults, or ghosting: your basic needs as a human (including food, safety, comfort, emotional and financial support, etc) will never be at stake. 

3. They allow you to have privacy, autonomy, and boundaries.

They knock and wait for your reply before walking opening the door/walking into your room. They don’t rummage through your things or go through your phone unless they have explicit permission from you to do so. They don’t get involved in your personal life behind your back, or force you to disclose information you don’t want to freely give to them. Even if they give you (a realistic amount of) house chores to teach you about responsibilities, they allow you to manage your time and do them whenever it’s most convenient for you, so that you can decide when to take a break/do things you enjoy, when to do homework, and when to do your chores. They don’t demand that you be available for them at all times: you can have time off to play videogames, read, go out with friends, or just scroll through your phone without having to be ready to help them/spend time with them on demand. And if they do want you to do something with them, they will offer to spend time together and allow you to say no. For example: “Hey, kiddo! I’ve decided I’m going to bake some muffins/go to the mall/go for a walk, do you want to join in?” “Aw, that’d be cool, but I’m chatting with some friends on Discord right now!” “That’s okay, have fun! 😁”

4. They give you good kinds of attention.

Following the previous example, it’s not enough for a parent to not give you bad kinds of attention, like demanding you spend time with them when you don’t want to, demanding you disclose information to them, etc. Non-abusive parents will ask you about your day. They'll want to spend quality time with you, get excited about the things you’re passionate about, share their hobbies with you, and respect and show interest in yours. They’ll let you enjoy your personal time and do things that don’t involve them, but you’ll still probably have things you love doing together, like doing puzzles, cooking, watching movies, going on walks... or anything else! 

Non-abusive parents will encourage you to be who you are, to try new things and give up the ones you don’t like; they won’t blame or mock you for changing your mind about your career path or your extracurricular activities, and they’ll celebrate your successes with you and support you and encourage you when you don’t succeed, instead of pointing out your flaws and failures or labelling you a “bad child” and giving up on you. They’ll be your #1 fans and support you when you struggle! 

That being said, of course, they’ll hold you accountable for your mistakes; but always with the aim of supporting you and raising you into a healthy, happy person who can understand that other people also have boundaries, and not for the sake of making you feel bad or to “prove” you’re worse than them, or than your siblings, or than anyone else. 

5. They protect you from their problems.

Obviously, this depends a lot on the kid's age; a 16-year-old will have a lot more skills to understand and help with certain adult problems than a 6-year-old.

But if, for example, the non-abusive parents of a 6-year-old are stuggling financially, and they can’t or choose not to keep it from the kid, they will not make the kid feel like they’re causing the problem by having needs (such as food, doctors, heat during winter...) or make them feel like the problem is their responsibility. Something many abusive parents do is tell us/make us feel like things that are completely beyond our control are somehow our fault, and when we’re still not done growing up (even at 16!), feeling like we’re somehow the cause of a problem we can’t possibly fix can be deeply traumatic. So a non-abusive parent, instead, may let their kid know about the problem in a way that the kid can feel like they’re helping fix the problem. For example, for a 6-year-old, they may make up a game where any time you catch a light turned on in an empty room at home, you have to turn it off. And then when the kid proudly says they caught two lights on and turned them off that day, the parent will act super proud and give them a hug! Instead of, for example, complaining in front of the kid about how many lights were left turned on or accusing other family members. 

And that’s all I can think of! But before I conclude this post, I would also like to bring some attention to what having a healthy parent feels like, because I think that as much as we try to differentiate between abusive and non-abusive/healthy parents, at the end of the day, the most important thing is how their behaviours affect us and make us feel.

So, going by the previous list, here are some ways having a non-abusive parent feels like: 

1. You’re not scared to bring up negative or positive topics with them. 

You’re not scared to disagree with them, to be angry at them, or to say “no” to them. You’re not scared to let them know things about you, or to share the things you’re excited about with them. If you have healthy parents, you’ll probably want to call them or text them when you receive good news! You’ll want to celebrate your successes with them, and you’ll also feel safe going to them for help and comfort when something bad happens to you, because you know they won’t judge or punish you for struggling and that the most important thing to them will be making sure you feel supported and safe, and not whether or not you messed up. 

2. You’re comfortable sharing a space with them.

You don’t mind or fear dancing around in the living room while they watch TV, going for a random snack, or pacing the hallway while you study for your upcoming exam. You’re not scared they’ll demand your time, scream at you, or interrupt you. You’re not scared of them acknowledging your existence and presence in the house; crossing paths with them while you’re all going about your afternoons is a non-event, and so is them walking up to you to ask you something. 

3. You enjoy spending time with them.

And you don’t do it out of guilt, fear, or obligation. You do it because you feel like it, because you like sharing things with them, because it’s fun! And not despite your body screaming at you to be as far away from them as possible and your brain telling you you’re a bad kid for not wanting to be around them in the first place.

That is all—thank you for this ask and I hope the answer helps!

Edit: I would like to reiterate that nothing is black and white, and that it's completely possible to not fit neatly into one of the two categories described above. It's possible to have good parents and still not enjoy sharing activities with them because you have depression, or to have good parents but not be able to trust them because someone else abused you, or a long, long etc. It's also possible to enjoy doing certain activities with your abusers, or to have good memories with your abusers. And, again, a long etc! I don't want to invalidate anyone's experience—just to hopefully help people with abusive parents understand how healthy relationships with parents usually work so they have something to compare their experiences with.

[the-starsabove-you]

The Spotlight

A/N: The Finale is here! I hate that I’m going to end this story, I had lots of plans for it.. But I feel like I’ve beaten a dead horse and burned myself out in the process, it’s why I took a breath and if you guys want, I will post some bonus chapters, but this is the last chapter before the epilogue, thank you to everyone who did read it and stuck with me! I hope you guys enjoy it  Finale- Coming Home to You Michelle looked out the window of the summer morning, how it was actually peaceful to watch the city in the summertime the people outside taking a stroll through the streets with drinks or their partners and children in hand. It had been a rough couple of months, modeling was really taking a toll on her life.. How she was hanging out with the wrong people too as she had seen things she never thought or wanted to see either, and how it was extremely different than what she and Marie would have wanted. There was a knock on the door and she got up from her chair and quickly went to the door and saw it was Marie, who made her way inside the apartment quietly. The two were talking for the past couple of weeks and both were agreeing on the same thing, that the environment that Michelle was in wasn’t healthy for her.. A couple of months ago, her and Mat broke up.. The pressure of dating her and being stuck in the Spotlight was getting a bit too much and it boiled over when Michelle had to leave him to attend a runway show and Mat had enough, making her choose between him or her career and when she stood there silent, he made the choice and left.. It caused Michelle to go into a spiral and ended up trashing her apartment.. Cutting her hand in the process. Michelle and Marie sat down at the dining room table and it was silent for a moment before the older woman cleared her throat and Michelle looked up and Marie smiled softly at her before sliding a couple of papers “When you sign these papers.. Your contract with me is over, you won’t have to do no more shows and photoshoots.. You’ll be completely out of the spotlight, I’m asking you one more time, do you wanna do this” Michelle looked at the papers for a moment, grabbing the pen that Marie handed her and she tapped the pen for a moment on the table as she thought about this. Everything that Michelle had worked for, would be over and she could retire from being a model.. It would take time but she would go back to being what she was before ever being famous, and all the years of traveling and meeting new friends would just be memories.. But without it, she wouldn’t have met Mat.. How she felt happy waking up next to him in the mornings, how he would look at her in amusement when she would be dancing in the kitchen humming to a tune.. How he looked at her in awe when she would enter the room.. How he made her feel such a way and how she wanted those feelings back.. Some people would judge and say she was throwing her career away for a guy.. But in all honesty, Mat was worth it.. Michelle remembered how Mat said she was worth the trouble and all, and in the end.. Mat was worth the sacrifice of it. Michelle without thinking signed the papers, making sure she read every paragraph before signing it and she started to feel like there was a weight coming off her shoulder as she signed her name on each paper.. Today, Michelle was going to start a new life, one that she wanted for a while.. One where she could make her own choices and being free “And that’s it..” Marie said with a soft smile as she stood up and gathered the papers “This will go through tonight and by tonight.. Michelle Wilson is no longer a supermodel for my agency” Michelle looked at her with a smile before getting up and going towards her “Marie.. I wanted to thank you, for looking after me all these years and making sure I didn’t go down a wrong path when I first became famous.. In all honesty, you were more of my parent than my real parents and I won’t ever forget what you did for me” Marie looked at the young girl with a soft smile on her face as she began to tear up “I was so hard on you because I wanted you to be better than all the others.. I saw what fame could do to models but when I first saw you, I knew I wanted to make you different.. I never wanted to see you dead on the news anywhere. I wanted to do what was right with you, I lost a daughter when she was extremely young but I felt like I got a piece of me back when you entered my life.. So I thank you so much for letting me be a mother to you” Michelle brought her into a tight hug and Marie hugged her as tight “I love you so much baby, you know if you ever need anything that you call me and you come visit me anytime.. You know where I live” Marie said and Michelle laughed softly and she looked at her mother-figure “I have a plane to book now that I’m no longer a supermodel” Michelle said and Marie gave her a look but was smiling “do I need to guess where you’re going?” Michelle smirked “Nope.. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to book my ticket to Vancouver” Mat was in his room, playing the guitar.. Well was still learning. It was a quiet day in Vancouver, it was clear skies and it was quiet around the lake.. Mat went for a swim earlier and had lunch with his family, it was relaxing now that it was off-season, having time to rest and relax before a new season started. His mom was cooking dinner while his father and sister were watching a movie in the living room.. All he could think of the past few months was Michelle, how it pained him to walk out of the door but he finally had to think of himself and end the relationship before things really took a turn for the worse. Emily and Tito were due to visit in a couple of days, it was about time those two lovebirds arrived as they were vacationing in California before going to Tito’s hometown to spend time with his family and friends.. Tito also hinted that he wanted to ask Emily to marry him, asking her mother to come with him to shop for rings. Mat snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his mom greeting someone at the door and he assumed it was the neighbors, they did like to visit from time to time. He hadn’t seen Michelle in any news lately, she had gone extremely quiet in the past month.. Noot that he was stalking her social media or googling her name.. But he found it very odd, when they were together when he would search her name up there would be a new article about her.. But Michelle had been radio silent and he was wondering why.. Did Michelle get a new boyfriend? Did she get married? Was she pregnant? Was the baby his? Did she get plastic surgery? Now overthinking, Mat was very anxious and he looked up when his mother called his name and he yelled a ‘What?’ “Mat, come here! There’s someone here to visit you!” His mother sounded overly happy, which was odd because she didn’t sound very happy when the neighbors would visit, so it must have been Tito and Emily but they were very early.. Mat signed and placed the guitar on his bed before grabbing a sweatshirt and making his way to the front door to see who it was, he thought it would be the kids from next door wanting to play street hockey with him or someone giving some kind of cake and his mom wanted the family to be there to say thank you. Mat looked up from the floor and stopped dead when he saw it was Michelle standing there at the front door, his mom looking at him with a huge grin.. He never forgot how much his mother loved Michelle and how upset she was when he came home, telling her that he broke up with Michelle and didn’t speak to him for a couple of days. Mat looked at her with wide eyes, his mouth opened as Michelle was standing there wearing a puffy jacket and black beanie, looking at Mat with a frown.. Mat knowing that Michelle was thinking this may have been a bad idea.. “Michelle! It’s nice for you to drop by!” Mat’s mom said as Mat snapped out of his thoughts and he cleared his throat “It’s nice to see you” He said and Michelle smiled “I was in town.. Thought I would stop by, heard Vancouver was a good place to hang around, wanted to stay for a bit before I flew back to Winnipeg and find an apartment there” “Wait, you’re moving to Winnipeg?” Mat said as he frowned and looked at her confused before looking at his mom “Um.. I’m gonna bring Michelle to the front porch, need to talk real quick” He said and his mother nodded as she stepped aside letting Mat pass by her, closing the door. Mat took Michelle’s hand and they went to sit at the seats at the front and he looked at her for a moment before frowning “Why are you moving to Winnipeg? Did something happen to your family?” He questioned and she shook her head “Everything is okay! I promise.. I wanted to share something with you” “Oh, what is it?” “I kinda ended my contract with Marie and her agency.. I’m no longer a supermodel, well to put it this way I’m retired from the industry now” Mat’s eyes widened as he was lost for words for a moment before speaking “Wait.. What do you mean you’re no longer a supermodel?” “With everything that happened, it took me time to realize that I needed to stand back a bit and decide that I need to do what’s best for myself in the long run. I’m gonna go back to school and become a doctor, and do something good.. Being a model was good and I’ve made an impact and had lots of people looking up to me.. But I know I can do more with saving lives” Mat was at loss for words for a moment before smiling softly “I’m so proud of you, for taking that step” “Thanks, I just need to head back to Winnipeg and find a place.. I’m not going to live with my parents, and I’m gonna use the money I made and invest in things.. Make some kind of difference in Winnipeg and beyond” “Do you have plans to visit New York?” Mat questioned and Michelle smiled softly “Marie is letting me keep my apartment and I placed the house we had on the market, it’s just a matter of who is interested in it” Mat grabbed her hand and squeezed it “Take the house off the market” He said before Michelle frowned “What? Why?” “Because I’m going to buy the house, it’s our house after all” He said and Michelle was lost for words for a bit and he kept on “Um.. If you want, you don’t have to go back to Winnipeg.. Stay here in Vancouver for the rest of the summer, I’m sure my mom would be over the moon with you staying with me.. You can apply to NYU and you can start when we go back to New York for the season and we’ll stay until you graduate or if I ever sign with another team” “You’ll really do that for me?” She whispered and Mat leaned to kiss her forehead and smiled, his green eyes shining as he squeezed her hand “You made sacrifices for me, I can make sacrifices for you too” Michelle looked at him for a moment before squeezing his hand “We’ll take it one day at a time.. We’ll communicate better than before, and we’ll do everything to make this work between us.. I promise” “I promise we’re gonna be okay, me and you.” Mat said and she smiled.. How it started with an Instagram post and the many hurdles they came across and how they broke up.. Mat and Michelle promised that they would work to improve on their relationships while promising to support what their partners wanted to do. Michelle leaned forward to kiss Mat who wrapped an arm around her waist to bring her in closer and for the first time, Michelle felt relief and happiness.. She was going to start new with the man she loved so much. How she remembered there was a time where people cheered for her at parties, festivals and runway shows.. How it was all going to be a distant memory.. Michelle Wilson! Michelle Wilson! Michelle Wilson! ‘Michelle Wilson has given it 110% to the industry over the past few years. Her schedule amazed me because there was no way a human should have endured it. She gave her heart and soul to this industry and knocked down so many doors. Right now, it’s just best to leave Michelle alone.. Let her recharge and gather her thoughts and let her have her life back.. She mentally and physically needs this.. If she ever does want to return, she will let you know.. Leave her alone and let her be’

[beyondconfessor]

Principle Decisions [11/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: It was nice to indulge, for a moment, that Lilith was honestly pleased to see her. That her fingers ran through Zelda’s hair because she wanted to feel her moan against her, that her hand slid around her waist and held her tight because she wanted to hold her. For a moment, Zelda could pretend that this was all real.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Zelda swallowed as she stood in front of the classroom. She’d been flat out since that morning. Given that her Saturday had been lost, she’d spent all of Sunday finishing off her marking and lesson planning until late into the evening hours. As such, she was exhausted.

She drew in a breath, feeling the caffeine run through her bloodstream as she lifted the marker to the whiteboard and wrote out the main dot points, discussing her thoughts as the class listened to her.

She couldn’t show weakness. Couldn’t allow them to see the exhaustion drifting over her. She needed to focus on the work and drive the points home.

She turned around, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over. Walking back to the pavilion. She used it to steady her and requested Melvin to answer the context of what she’d written on the board in three romantic languages and advise as to their similarities.

The head rush washed over her, and she felt her blood flow return as she listened to him stumble over her words, stuttering, but still managing to point out four out of the five things she was hoping for. She directed to Elspeth next, enquiring as to the missing part.

She couldn’t remember the rest of the class, feeling it blur across from her, but was thankful nonetheless when the class left, leaving her to slump in a seat, head dropping against the spine of the chair as she waited for the dizziness of the room to pass. Perhaps she needed to eat something more sustaining than a granola bar for breakfast-–and yet nausea had been ever-present of late.

She wanted to place it to menopause but knew better than to suggest that. The truth of the matter was that she was unwell, and despite seeing her gynaecologist recently, she’d been placing off seeing her general practitioner for some time, given that during her last visit, the doctor had lectured her about the long term effects of stress and smoking.

She didn’t need another lecture, and her smoking was reduced to two cigarettes now––hardly good for her, but better than her youth.

“Professor Spellman?” she looked up, blinking at the fluorescent lights before sitting up straight in the chair and turning to face the doorway. “Are you okay?” Prudence enquired.

“Quite fine,” she advised, grabbing her bag and standing up. As it was, she felt better after having sat down for a moment. Perhaps that’s what she needed. Maybe she could squeeze in a micro-nap on her lunch break.

“We were meant to meet a few minutes ago. If you prefer, we can do it here?”

Zelda sighed. Her office was only just down the hall. “No, best to be in there,” she advised. Zelda followed Prudence to her office before unlocking the door and setting her things inside.

Pulling out her laptop, she set up and watched a dozen new emails loaded, each one a student pleading for clarification or requesting a new time to meet her to discuss their course load. Sighing, she sorted the emails into different folders before looking up at Prudence, who already had her own workout.

“I graded the assignment for the first years of your language, but I’m afraid that I can’t do the religious studies. Your parameters made sense, but I don’t understand enough of the subject to mark them. I’m sorry.”

Zelda nodded, she’d expected as much, in fairness. “Thank you, Prudence. You’re doing far more than I would expect of a TA.”

“You’re still spreading yourself thin,” Prudence advised. “I know you’re going over everything I mark to make sure they’re fine and I don’t know if it’s because you don’t trust me, or––“

“I trust you,” Zelda advised, with a wave of her hand. “It’s not because of that, it’s because if I’m going to sign them off, I need to ensure that I agree. You do well, there’s hardly ever a bias, and nothing I’m concerned about. If you ever choose to follow the path of academics as a career, I assure you that I will be happy to provide you with a reference.”

Prudence’s expression softened then, a shade of red warming her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, before drawing in a breath to steady herself, meeting Zelda’s eyes again. “But that’s still a massive workload for yourself. Is there’s nothing that Faustus can do?”

Zelda paused then, watching as the girl’s face scrambled as she realised her mistake, but outside of an awkward movement she made to tug at her sleeves, she did not attempt to correct herself, choosing instead to double-down on it––or perhaps hope that Zelda had missed it.

“Faustus?” Zelda inquired. “Are you on first names with Professor Blackwood?”

“I––we are,” she confirmed. “He’s…agreed to mentor me for one of the projects next year.”

Zelda’s expression sharpened. She wanted to ask then, flatly, if Prudence was having an affair. But then the question was, if Faustus were having an affair with his student, she’d be morally bound to advise Constance. The woman had only recently recovered from her previous breakdown, and as an affair in her marriage would likely only cause her to regress to how she was all those months ago when she couldn’t look after Leticia.

Zelda held her tongue. It wasn’t a problem for now, and so far all she had was guilty looks from Prudence. The girl could just be harbouring a one-sided crush herself. There was no reason to believe Faustus was doing anything wrong.

She continued to discuss things through with Prudence, agreeing to relent and allow her to create some structure for the first-year class lesson planning––providing herself with some relief to focus on other things. She’d still look it over, and likely change it as she needed to, but it would provide valuable skills to Prudence and allow a breather, even if it was only for two hours a week.

As it was, her eyes remained focus on the weekend, counting down the days. She was exhausted, and although she went to bed most nights feeling her eyes burn with the need to sleep, her brain kept her awake with worry, flicking through the work she needed to get done, emails she needed to respond to, essays she’d marked that she fearfully chewed the inside of her mouth over, wondering if she’d been too lenient or too harsh.

Lately, the only thing that allowed her any respite was a choice of three vibrators and a familiar fantasy.

Lilith and her at a crowded restaurant, where the woman was incessantly touching her as they conversed over the food, the woman’s eyes holding hers steady, advising that if she failed to respond the game would be over.

It was enough to drive her quickly to a dopamine high, allowing her to drift asleep where she would dream for a few hours before been awoken by panic, five minutes before her alarm was to go off. She slept enough to not fall asleep at work, and for everything else, there was caffeine.

When the weekend finally arrived, she allowed herself to sleep. There was still a hundred and one things to do, but Zelda allowed herself to turn off her alarm, ease the growing panic and sleep in a little bit longer. After all, she had a meeting on Sunday, and she didn’t want to turn up tired.

Zelda turned up early, stayed in her car until ten minutes to the agreed time, and then knocked on the door. Lilith bid her entrance and closed the door. “We’ll speak first,” Lilith said, and gestured to the kitchen. A neutral space.

Zelda sat down at the table as Lilith sat across from, smiling, her eyes bright as if she was delighted to see Zelda again.

A flicker of something sweet pulsated through Zelda’s heart before she steeled it. This was a professional discussion, not a date.

“I would like it if the impact play continues,” Zelda told her, wanting that to be clear. “I’ll be a better judge of myself and ensure it won’t happen again.”

“It will likely occur again,” Lilith said. “That’s not a poor reflection on yourself; it can be difficult to judge your own emotional needs. But…it might help if you know why you dissociated?”

Zelda bit her lip, and looked away, feeling as if her chest was tightening at the question.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Lilith coaxed. “But if you know why you disappeared at that moment, we can avoid it, or you can be mindful of what you were feeling so the next time it happens we know not to engage in it.”

“I…” she paused, remembering the feeling of the sting, of how much she’d wanted it to hurt. It’d hadn’t been about relief, it’d be about needing to be punished. At the time, a feeling had unsurfaced, knowing she wasn’t enough, couldn’t do enough and when it began to hurt, all she could focus on was that she’d deserved it. “I do,” she said.

“Do you feel that way today?”

Zelda blinked, feeling her eyes prick. “Somewhat, but nowhere near like I had before. I can handle it.”

“How about we play it safe. There are many other things we can do that can provide relief that doesn’t involve impact play,” Lilith said.

“So every time I’m feeling this way, we can’t engage in that?” Zelda asked. The words came out harsher than she intended, and she flushed, looking away. There was an incessant need underneath her skin, and the relief that the caning brought was wholly desired.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Lilith advised. “When you’re in a healthy mindset, we can learn and touch on your limits and discuss in further detail. Impact play can be used to find relief in times like that, but I don’t feel comfortable doing that with you until I know what your limits are.”

Zelda nodded, swallowing thickly. “Fine,” she said. It was a no for today, but not a no forever. “Seems like a ploy to get more money out of me.”

“Ah yes, my super-secret spanking plan,” Lilith said, giving a patronising nod of her head. “Whatever will I do now that you know it?”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “So impact play is out of the question.”

“There are other comforts. We don’t have to have sex or even indulge in kink,” Lilith advised. “Some of my clients just want the aftercare as the entire session.”

Zelda thought of the feeling of being in the woman’s lap, her hand stroking her hair. Her chest ached for it, but to admit that was…painful. She hadn’t earned it. “No,” she said. “What about bondage?”

“With some clients, I’d be hesitant, but you’ve always responded well to it,” Lilith advised. “I don’t see an issue.”

Zelda exhaled, that was something at least.

“There’s also the domination side. I could order you around on your hands and knees.”

Zelda’s eyes drew to Lilith’s, a flutter returning low in her belly. “And do what?” she asked.

Lilith smirked. “One of my clients just cleans the house. But I’m sure there are other things I could have you do.”

“And what other things would that be?”

Lilith gave a small laugh, her expression shifting. “Anything you want.”

Anything she wanted, the options burned through her and Zelda found herself letting a thousand and one ideas roll through her mind. On her hands and knee, drawing her tongue over the woman’s sex, Lilith’s hand in her hair. Lilith fucking her. Being made to watch as Lilith masturbated…

Lilith rose to her feet, and Zelda followed. She watched as Lilith led her down the hall, a saunter in her step before she turned and gestured for Zelda to walk up the stairs.

Zelda paused, watching her, feeling anticipation bite through as she realised that all she wanted at that moment was Lilith. She wanted to kiss her.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lilith asked.

Zelda’s eyes watched how her mouth formed the words before her eyes flicked to Lilith’s, a breath tugging as she almost considered crossing the line and just kissing her. God, she wanted to kiss her and feel her gasp and moan and––

Zelda found herself pressed against the nearest wall, and the woman’s mouth was on hers. It was hot and pressing. Zelda moaned, feeling her heart leap at the kiss as hands held her firm, pressing her tight against the wall.

And then her coat was being slid from her arms, tossed to the bannister of the stairs, as Lilith’s mouth continued to kiss hers with a fury. As if she’d longed to see her, touch her, kiss her. Just as she had longed for it.

It was nice to indulge, for a moment, that Lilith was honestly pleased to see her. That her fingers ran through Zelda’s hair because she wanted to feel her moan against her, that her hand slid around her waist and held her tight because she wanted to hold her. For a moment, Zelda could pretend that this was all real.

It should have frightened her how much she wanted it, but when Lilith’s mouth drew over her throat, it was hard to not ache at the idea that she could have this. She could find someone who wanted her like this.

But she didn’t want it with anyone else.

Zelda kicked her shoes off and allowed herself to be manoeuvred next to the stairs where Lilith drew back, teeth biting over her bottom lip as if to hide her grin.

“Hello darling,” she said, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Have you thought about what you want?”

“I have.”

“Good,” and then Lilith’s fingers were entwined with hers, tugging her up the stairs, into the bedroom, where the door shut and they could finally look at each other.

Here, it was easy to pretend, Zelda realised. She didn’t need to be a professor at the university or a guardian of two surly children. She didn’t need to be a matriarch to her family or a dozen other things that she was to other people.

She could just be Zelda.

“Tell me I get to ravish you,” Lilith said, and her hands were on Zelda’s waist, a wide smile on her mouth. “I’ve been dreaming of it.”

“Just dreaming?” Zelda asked.

“Ask me nicely, and I might even tell you all the other things I’ve been getting up to as well.”

Zelda hummed, watching the woman’s smile widen further. “I want what you offered the other day. I want to see you come undone.”

“Define undone?” Lilith said, her eyebrows arching as her thumbs drew circles on her waist, over the material of her dress. “Do you want to see me undressed?”

“Mm, yes.”

“Do you want to see…me on my knees?”

“I did enjoy that. I might like to see that again.”

Lilith bit her lip, nodding her head. And then she was leaning in close, her mouth near Zelda’s ear as she asked softly, “did you want to hear me call out your name.”

Zelda drew in a breath, biting back the moan in her throat. “Yes,” she answered, her voice low and purring.

Lilith leaned back and then smiled at her. “Now, there are two ways we can do this. You and I can have sex or…I really do what I promised the other day.”

“Which was what?” Zelda asked.

“That you let me tie you up and I’ll let you watch. I promise it will be quite the performance.”

Zelda felt a wanton tremble low in her belly. Under usual circumstances she wasn’t sure she’d be interested in watching a partner masturbate, but Lilith wasn’t just a partner. Lilith was…something else entirely, and the idea of being tied up, unable to do anything, helpless to watch as she squirmed in her bindings…

Well, she was certainly not against it in any capacity.

“And that will take up our entire time?” she asked sceptically.

“Oh no, there’ll be room for play afterwards. I’m sure you’ll be quite needy for some…relief.”

Zelda’s heart fluttered, a flush already brushing over her. “Well, then. How could I refuse such an offer?”

“How indeed.”

Lilith stepped around, behind Zelda and unzipped her dress, and then her mouth was on her neck and Zelda was feeling warm hands slide over her body as the dress was pushed to the ground.

She went to do the same for Lilith, only for the woman’s hands to catch her. “Oh no,” she said. “You have to keep your hands to yourself, that’s the only rule otherwise you’ll lose some privileges. Now, on the bed like a good girl.”

Zelda bit back a sardonic comment and turned, moving to sit down on the mattress, before shifting to the centre on the bed, where she sat back on her knees, hands in her lap as Lilith returned with lengths of black rope.

The ropes were knotted, and this time, Zelda watched at her ankles were bound to her thighs, which in turn were bound to her wrists, keeping them all nicely locked together. Lilith checked them, fingers running around the pressure points, before she began kissing down Zelda's body, across her throat as one hand slid over the cup of her bra and other slid between her legs.

Zelda moaned, feeling herself grow wet underneath Lilith’s deft fingers as the woman teased her to frustration before pulling away, apparently satisfied when Zelda began panting in her ear.

And then she stood up from the bed and Zelda watched as she moved to the end of the bed, in full view of her.

She undid the cuffs of her long-sleeve blouse, undoing the buttons before she slid it from her shoulders. Then she was unzipping her skirt and drawing that down her thighs. Zelda watched the material slide down, her eyes enchanted by the image of lingerie.

Like herself, Lilith apparently dressed to impress, there was a set of stockings and a garter belt as well, and Zelda watched as she under the claps of the garter belt one by one, before letting them hang.

And then Lilith’s hands were running through her hair as she stretched her body.

Zelda swallowed, drinking in the sight of the woman. It was the first time she’d had the pleasure of seeing her undressed, and if she was honest with herself, she was envious of the fact that it wasn’t her hands undressing her as she kissed over the bared skin.

Lilith’s foot lifted to the ottoman, and then she was sliding down the stockings, her eyes watching Zelda’s follow the movement before the silk was dropped to the ground. And then she did the same with the other leg. A languid movement, her body stretching with ease in flawless movements that had Zelda wondering if the woman did yoga––or had perhaps been a dancer.

Zelda waited, watching with interest as then Lilith returned to sitting on the bed before her, sitting on her knees as she watched Zelda squirmed.

She was close enough that had Zelda been unbound, she would have been able to reach out and touch her, and right now, that’s all Zelda wanted to do. She wanted to kiss her throat and clavicle, place her hands on the woman’s waist and drew down to the hips. She wanted to feel her thigh press between Lilith’s and feel the woman roll her hips over it as she sighed in her ear.

“Aren’t you just a picture,” Lilith said to her with a sharp smile.

“You look divine,” Zelda said, unabashed.  

Lilith’s smile widened, her nose crinkling with obvious delight before it softened again as she came to bite at her bottom lip. Her head tilted and Zelda drew in a breath, focusing her thoughts away from the softness growing inside of her.

“Are you ready?” Lilith asked.

“I am,” Zelda confirmed, watching Lilith’s chest rise and fall.

Lilith grinned, before she leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to Zelda’s mouth, and then she was sitting back on her knees.

Zelda watched at the strappy silk underwear was pushed down her thighs and then slid to her calves.

Zelda expected to watch the woman touch herself, sliding her hands over her body––which was an exciting concept on its own.

Which meant that she didn’t expect Lilith to straddle her thigh, and then moved to kiss her throat, purposefully drawing her body across Zelda’s bound body so there was very little Zelda could do but draw in a breath as she felt the woman’s sex slide over her thigh.

It was entirely more seductive than any lap dance she’d had before, given that she could feel Lilith’s naked body against her, entirely unable to do anything about it. And then Lilith’s mouth was pressed to her ear and Zelda could feel her hand sliding between them both.

Zelda swallowed, trying to calm her beating heart as Lilith’s mouth pressed over her neck, drawing down her throat as she made the smallest noises. Her hips rocked, sliding over Zelda’s thigh, and it was a performance in its own right, one that Zelda could look over Lilith’s should and see in the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room, but she didn’t want to watch.

It was too much when she could hear Lilith making small gasps as she touched herself, knuckles bumping against Zelda’s thighs.

“Lilith,” she whispered.

And the woman’s hand curled over her shoulder, as if to hold onto her for steadiness, her body rocking.

“Please.”

“Please what?” Lilith asked.

“Can I…” she paused, straining in the ropes. “May I please touch you?”

“No,” Lilith advised, her smile wicked as she gasped and Zelda could feel how wet she was, dragging along her thigh. Her fingers twitched, arms straining in the rope bindings and Lilith grabbed her chin with her other hand, holding it steady to look into her eyes. “Watch me, or I’ll get creative.”

Zelda swallowed, “Yes, my Queen.”

“I am your Queen, aren’t I?” she said, her face awash in rapture. “And you are mine today, aren’t you, Zelda.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

Lilith hummed, and Zelda watched her expression shift, head rolling back, body shifting forward. Zelda felt as if her throat would go dry. But every time she leant forward, Lilith was holding her back, laughing at her.

“Needy little thing.”

“Needy,” Zelda snapped, and then the woman’s nails were cutting in her jaw with warning and Zelda felt the need wash over her. She wanted her, needed her like she was oxygen. And all Zelda could think about was what it would be like to run her tongue over the bare throat and feel the woman moan.

“I knew you would get worked up by this. Are you sure you don’t want me to sit back and spread my legs wide for you? You could see how wet I am.”

“I can feel it.”

“And isn’t that much, much better?” Lilith asked and Zelda felt her knuckles purposefully drag against the seam of her underwear. The barest of touch was making her squirmed as the woman continued to fuck herself on her lap and there was nothing she could do to help her.

There was a hundred witty retorts she had that rose and fell as she felt the woman’s head duck to her shoulder. In the mirror, Zelda could see Lilith’s back muscles growing taught, her body shaking. There was a moan, muffled against her throat and Zelda’s breath shook with anticipation, catching in her lungs as she felt the speed increase.

“Zelda,” Lilith hummed into her ear and Zelda’s eyes closed, teeth biting over her bottom lip to prevent from crying out. She wanted her badly. Never before had she felt so much blood rushing into her sex, wetness pooling in her underwear, until she heard the woman’s name whispered like that in her ear.

She didn’t know if it was better or worse to have made this decision. She could be tongue deep in Lilith by now, have her mouth drawing out the same noises rather than this wet, messy feeling drawing over her thighs.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and Zelda’s eyes opened, looking up at the ceiling to focus as she drew a breath, once and then twice, as Lilith’s hand worked between her legs and her other came and curled over her shoulder, the grip trembling as she worked faster and faster.

There was only the soft sound of a panted breath and soft moans, and Zelda’s breath tightened, hoping she was close, because if this continued, she was surely going to combust. Her body burned to touch her, have her hand stroking between Lilith’s legs.

And then the hand tightened on her shoulder and Lilith’s body was taught and rocking. Her mouth was on Zelda’s and it was like everything came into focus. Zelda felt it like an electric shock shooting down her body as the woman moaned against her mouth, her kiss hard and furious.

She tugged at the bindings again, desperately trying to touch her, pressing against her as she rocked with the last convulsion.

And then it was over and Lilith’s body drew loose, her hand drawing away from between them to settle on her other shoulder wetly.

“Untie me,” Zelda said with as much dominance as she could muster with lust powering through her.

Lilith laughed, and then the ropes were tugged undone. Before they were even tossed away she was pinning Lilith to the bed, kissing her mouth and drawing down her body, hungrily, possessively wanting to claim what she couldn’t have.

Lilith’s laughter filled the room as she squirmed underneath her, before her legs wound around Zelda’s waist and she drew Zelda’s face back to hers, kissing her in short, fast bursts before she dropped back. “I thought you’d like that.”

“I hated it.”

“You loved it,” Lilith said, “I could feel it,” and as she said, it her hips rocked prominently, blue eyes flashing. Zelda felt the slickness drag against her body.

“It was cruel, needless torture I wouldn’t wish on another.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, we should do it again another day.” Zelda knew she would be dreaming about this moment. Imagining what it felt like to have Lilith’s body rocking over hers again and again.

Lilith smiled, drawing her fingers over Zelda’s faces softly, tenderly. And then her expression shifted to mischievous. Her hand snatched away and then suddenly Zelda was being kissed again. With teeth and tongue and sucking pressure that had her moaning––too distracted to realise until she felt her hand’s tugged together, that she was being bound again.

It was a simple binding, wrists bound together, but it was enough that in confusion, she slipped to her side and suddenly found Lilith sitting on her hips, pinning her to the mattress.

“Is that how you’re going to play?” Zelda asked.

“Mm. You were rather disobedient. I felt you trying to touch me despite my warning as to otherwise.”

“So now you’re going to punish me?”

Lilith gave a look, not advising either way to her plan, and before Zelda do so much as try to rock her hips, she had her hands above her head, as the woman drew her mouth down Zelda’s throat. “Stay still,” she said, and then Lilith was climbing off her.

Zelda frowns, lifting her head to watch as Lilith opened her wardrobe only for her to turn around and shoot her a dirty look. Obeying, she leant back down on the bed, anticipation prickling over her skin.

And then Lilith was returning and Zelda was biting her lip, eyes watching the ceiling as she felt the woman kneel on the bed before her, sliding in-between her legs.

“Do you know much about forced orgasms?” Lilith asked.

Zelda’s head dropped to look her, but whatever toy she had remained behind her back as she settled on her knees, in between Zelda’s legs.

Lilith’s eyes drew over her body, a long, deep breath puling into her lungs before she smiled, meeting Zelda’s eyes again. “It’s a favourite of mine.”

“For you or me?”

“For you. Think of it as…the other side to the coin.”

Zelda swallowed. “I know a bit of it, but I’ve never really had more than three or four orgasms in the same evening.”

“Mm, I’m sure you stopped your partner or partners when it became unbearable.”

“I…oh,” Zelda realised, she drew in a breath and watched as Lilith dropped a vibrator onto the bed.

“I’m very good,” she assured. “And it can be a lot of fun for both of us. I think it’s a safe way to test you limits, if you’d like to try it,” Lilith was looking at her almost shyly, though there was certainly a vested interest in it. She wanted to see her come undone, but it was more than that. This wasn’t about Lilith taking her to new heights, this was about pushing her limits in pleasure and discomfort and…

…well, Zelda couldn’t help but feel her heartbeat race. “Forced…orgasms?”

“Mm, I press play and we see how many times I can get you off before the battery dies.”

“Is there a record for this?”

“No challenge as such. I prefer to keep to personal bests of the victim,” she said, “And I would very much enjoy making you my victim. Safeword still withstanding.”

Zelda nodded.

“We don’t have to, however––“

“I want to,” Zelda assured, cutting her off. “I want to try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll just say music box.”

Lilith smiled, and there was a genuine warmth to it. As if she was both proud of her and pleased with her. It twisted in Zelda’s chest, a desperation fluttering as she realised that if Lilith smiled at her like that, she’d surely follow her to Hell.

“Good, now, let’s move you there with the pillows.” Zelda shifted, allowing Lilith to help her sit up and shift across to the pillows. The woman allowed her to adjust, propping up two more pillows behind her before she sat back and smiled at her.

And then Lilith was moving between her legs again, her hands drawing over Zelda’s legs.

Zelda’s hips lifted as her underwear was removed, and then Lilith’s mouth was warm, kissing against her knee, setting her chin atop of it lazily, and Zelda watched that blue eyes follow her as she drew her fingers over Zelda’s sex. It was a warm coaxing and Zelda bit her lip, keeping her eyes steady as Lilith drew over the labia, stroking gently.

It was enough to make her limbs shake, and then, apparently satisfied with her reaction, Lilith picked up the vibrator and Zelda held her breath.

“What’s your safe word, Zelda?”

“Music box.”

“Good girl.” The vibrator hummed, its battery quiet as it set against her. Lilith's eyes held hers, watching at Zelda drew in a breath, feeling it hum over her. Never had such a thing felt so intimate, but as Lilith’s other hand came to slide over her thigh, Zelda felt the tension coil inside of her, heels digging into the blankets.

It came slow and steady, shivering from her. It was different from how Lilith’s fingers felt and different from when she masturbated alone. The orgasm spun from her and Zelda breathed through it once, twice, her eyes fluttering and then returning to Lilith.

The vibrator went stronger and without even feeling the first one finish, the second shook through her, harder as she clenched around nothing.

Lilith smiled at her and Zelda felt her heart pound as she leant forward. The woman kissed her and then Zelda was moaning as she felt the vibrator kicked up a notch.

Zelda hissed, feeling it roll over her clit to the other side and back. “You’re doing well,” Lilith coaxed as she drew back. “Two in two minutes, I’m impressed.”

Zelda swallowed, it was intense, far more than she expected. Her thighs shook as she squeezed, heels digging, hands clenching in their bindings. “Jesus in Heaven,” she spat, eyes squeezing shut.

“Three, good girl.”

There her hips tried to pull away, the intensity too much, but Lilith’s hand was firm of her leg, holding her in place as she manoeuvred the vibrator over her clit. It was intense, her clit’s sensitivity was too much, and Zelda strangled a breath, holding back as she felt her body shake, muscles clenching again.

“Lilith, I can’t…” she whined.

“You can,” she coaxed, and as it to prove her point, she slid her other hand from her thigh and stroked over the labia, around and down and then was sliding inside of her where Zelda was wet and wanton, wanting to be filled.

“God,” Zelda hissed and her heels dug in and Lilith's fingers slid prominently, curling against a spot.  

It almost hurt, it was hurting with the intensity, but it was good. She could feel her walls clenching around Lilith’s fingers, squeezing as she was coaxed higher and higher again and then she was crying out, sobbing.

“No more,” she pled, trying to move her hips away, but again, Lilith held her firm, her eyes holding hers, a smile on her lips.

“One more,” Lilith said to her, “You can do it.”

Zelda bit her lip. Her back ached, her stomach muscles ached from all of the squeezings, and there was a rush of noise in her ears. She thought about disagreeing, but the way Lilith was looking at her––utterly please and surprised, fingers stroking inside of her…

Zelda bit her lip, head bowing. One more, she nodded in agreement.

The vibrator moved, rolling up and over and directly onto her clit and Zelda hissed, pulling back away, feeling the ropes pinch on her wrists. She squeezed, a cry whimpering from her and then felt Lilith’s fingers curling, sliding, drawing.

It was Heaven and Hell. She didn’t want it to stop, and yet she couldn’t do it, could feel the climax.

It was too much.

Her heart pounded, heavy and hard in her chest and ears. And then her body was convulsing and Zelda saw stars as she was fucked through to the orgasm.

“Music,” she whimpered.

The vibrator clicked off, Lilith’s fingers slid out from her and then she felt the tug of ropes being undone before Lilith was dragging her close.

Zelda whimpered, feeling her clit throb in a way she didn’t know was possible. She ached, her whole body ached from the however many orgasms she had in a span of however long, but as she was pulled to Lilith’s chest, the woman’s hand drawing through her hair, Zelda couldn’t find herself upset.

She could feel the tears that were drying on her face, and yet despite all of that, there was a hunger in chest as Lilith pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You did well, I’m impressed.”

Zelda shivered, a smile tugging at she allowed her to relax for a moment. There was nothing sweeter than the touch, and despite how much Zelda’s sex felt swollen and raw, a part of her wanted to ask for it again.

“Four orgasms.”

“Five,” Lilith corrected. “Though not all are equal,” she teased.

Zelda sighed, feeling the fingers draw through her hair. She was tired now, utterly exhausted and a part of her wanted to fall asleep like this, with the woman’s fingers running through her hair. But she couldn’t, there were things to do, essays to mark, results to put up.

“Come with me,” Lilith tugged, and then Zelda was finding herself gently being lead to stand, before Lilith was taking her out of the bedroom, into the bathroom, where the remainder of her clothes were removed, before Lilith guided her into the shower stall.

The water was hot and Zelda sighed as it drew over her skin, feeling Lilith slide in behind her. She felt like she was in a haze, barely acknowledging as soap and water were drawn over her skin by Lilith’s hands. There was a soothing nature to it, feeling her hands draw over her shoulders, down her back and legs.

And then Lilith was turning her around to face her.

She wanted to kiss her, but Lilith’s was focused on lathering her arms, then her chest and her belly. And then it was all being rinsed off.

Zelda took the soap from Lilith’s hand, and did the same to her. Washing over her shoulders, down her arms and across her chest and belly, over her back and down her legs. It didn’t feel sexual, she expected it to, to find herself aroused by the process, but instead, she just found herself looking at Lilith and feeling herself soften.

All of the tension had left her, and there was only dizziness that remained as she set the soap aside. For a moment, they stayed there in the water, their eyes watching each other and Zelda almost leant forward, her hand going to cup Lilith’s face, before she watched as Lilith shut off the water.

It was over.

As Lilith wrapped her in a towel, Zelda couldn’t help but ask, “Do you treat all of your clients like this?”

“Only the ones I like,” she said as she took a towel for herself and led Zelda back to the bedroom.

Lilith pulled out a dressing gown from the chest of drawers, sliding it on and tying it at the waist as Zelda dressed again, placing on her bra, garter belt and stockings before her slip and dress. She paused, watching as Lilith drew out of the room, her hand drawing through her hair to pull it back from her face as she smiled at Zelda.

Zelda paused, feeling the smile flutter inside of her before she turned away, moving to the mirror to fix her hair and place heels on.

She felt lightheaded, and if she had just rolled through five orgasms, she’d be suspicious. As it was, she ignored the feeling and made her way downstairs to where her coat and handbag were, before she went to the kitchen.

She rolled her shoulders, feeling tightness in them as she watched as Lilith set the tea down on the table.

“Feel better?” Lilith asked of her.

“I do,” she said. “Lately this has been the only time I get to spend without worrying about work or family.”

Lilith nodded, “That’s how I got into all of this,” she advised. “It seemed to be the only place where everything else disappeared and my thoughts turned singular.”

“I appreciate everything that you’ve done.”

At that, Lilith’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

Zelda hummed, and then she reached into her bag to pull out her wallet.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Lilith said. “Today fulfilled my fantasies as much as yours, it wouldn’t be fair to take your money.”

Zelda frowned, “I did ask for this,” she pointed out.

Lilith shook her head, “No, I enjoyed myself too much. It’d feel like double-dipping.”

Zelda stepped forward, going to comment, but as she did, a wave of dizziness overtook her and before she could even make the extra step towards the chair, she was…

…

…what was she doing?

________________

[luna--reading]

[PICK A CARD] WHAT ARE SOME BLESSINGS COMING IN FOR ME WITHIN THE WEEK?

Hello lovelies~ ♡

This is a pick a card reading for “What are some blessings coming in for me in the coming week?” This is a timeless reading and you are meant to see it right now! 

I hope this reading will bring in the clarity and peace that you need, and please do stay safe during this time period~ ♡

So take a few minutes to mediate on these 5 piles:

Left to right: 1 – 5

Once you’re ready, just scroll below to find the reading that you have chosen!

You can always leave a comment or simply like the post if it resonates with you, thank you so much~ ♡♡♡

Pile 1

Tarot: 7 of Cups, 7 of Wands, 8 of Swords

Oracle: THE PATH OF THE GODS (2) – Decisions, meetings, future plans // LEAP – You go first. The Universe will catch you. // PAST-LIFE RELATIONSHIP – You have known each other before. // DEMONSTRATE LOVE (48) – Find out what is important to those you love and act on it. // CHOOSE LOVE (21) – You always have a choice – make yours with love.

Darling, I feel like there is someone from the past, or just something from the past that you have been constantly going back to. It’s that kind of feeling whereby you know it’s not serving you, but you just can’t help but go back to it. And I know, it is annoying, but I feel like it’s some kind of karmic relationship or connection that you have to deal with.

You are asked to make a decision and the Universe wants you to know that regardless of the path that you choose, the Universe will catch you. This is the time for you to take action, darling and I see so much more opportunities coming in for you.

Whatever it is that you have been hesitating about to take action towards, the Universe wants you to know that you are being guided and you will be protected along the way. Take this chance to move forward, to leave the past behind, to start anew. Darling, there is a lot of beautiful opportunities coming in for you, if you just take that leap of faith!

 Pile 2:

Tarot: 10 of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, 3 of Swords, 6 of Cups

Oracle: SACRED JOURNEY (30) – Introversion, seeker, self-knowledge // AWAKENING – Energetic upgrades. A new way of being. Integration. // YOU DESERVE LOVE – You are lovable! // TURN ON YOUR HEART LIGHT (36) – Reflect on a time when you experienced love. // LOVE IS ALL AROUND YOU (16) – There is love everywhere all the time. Simply acknowledge this as love.

Darling, it has been a difficult time for you, hasn’t it? It might have been a failed relationship, a broken friendship, a loss of career, but darling, let’s be honest, life hasn’t been good to you, has it? But you know, I feel like this has only made you stronger. I see that you have start to realise your true worth. I see that you have start to see how much better it is to love yourself first, to put that focus onto yourself.

And darling, I see that there is going to be so much emotional fulfilment coming in for you in the week to come. This might only be the beginning of seeking answers within yourself, or it might just be the beginning of some spiritual awakening. But darling, connecting with your higher self more would allow you to know your actual worth.

And in fact, you are currently healing, or it might just be the beginning to heal and understand that healing involves you going back to the wounds that you have tried so hard to cover up. But these past hurts are not here to hurt you anymore darling, they are here to help you move forward, to charge ahead and to have that new beginning in life.

There is going to be so much love coming in for you darling, from the people around you but most importantly, from yourself. And darling, you need to know that as you love yourself more, you would bring in so much more abundance and growth in your life!

 Pile 3:

Tarot: King of Cups, 5 of Swords, 2 of Cups

Oracle: SKYFIRE (11) – Messages, channels, information // STARSEED – What lights you up? // EXPRESS YOUR LOVE – Go ahead and make the romantic gesture. // BE AUTHENTIC (39) – Be real and true to who you are and how you feel. // LISTEN WITH YOUR HEART (1) – You are listening but need to hear with a loving heart.

Darling, if there is a message that you are waiting for, regardless of if it’s for a career, a romantic interest, a friend, a family, a colleague or whatever it is, it’s coming. And trust that someone is going to bring in this message for you or there is just going to be messages coming in for you. Especially for those who are waiting for a romantic interest message, someone might just be expressing his/her love to you.

But most importantly, I’m seeing that you are also receiving messages, signs, synchronicities from your angels in regards to a current situation that you might feel defeated about. It is time for you to open your heart and take in these messages. These messages might not be something that you want to hear, but these messages are here to guide you and to help you grow and learn.

It’s time for you to understand you true self and darling, your angels are here to guide and protect you but you need to keep an open mind and heart as to the messages that you are receiving. Through these messages, I see so much balance and harmony in your life to come, darling, so be open to these messages even if it’s the message that you never want to hear. Because these messages are only here to help you, and they would never hurt you!

 Pile 4:

Tarot: The Star, The Emperor, Temperance

Oracle: TREE OF SOULS (42) – Collective wisdom, kinship group, library // TAKE A BREAK – A life’s work, not a season. Get off the treadmill. // SEPARATION – Time apart from your partner is on the horizon. // CONSIDER YOUR FOUNDATION (50) – Look at how committed you are to love. // TRUE LOVE (30) – This love is once in a lifetime.

Darling, I see that there are major energies accompanying you for the week, really major and there can be a major change or shift in energies for you as well. But most importantly, I’m seeing that you are asked to wait, to take a break, to pause and to not continue to push things forward. Maybe it’s something that you have been working on and you want the results to come in as you wanted, or as quickly as you want. But now, it’s the time for you to pause.

Things are working behind the scenes for you, darling. You’ve been putting in so much hard work and effort on it, but now, it’s time to allow the Universe to come in to allow things to fall in place. I see that as you let things unfold itself, there would be so much balance being brought into your life, because maybe things were out of balance previously because you have been wanting results and neglecting the other aspects of your life.

Now, is the time to focus on these other aspects of life, darling. If it’s work, achieve that work-life balance. If it’s relationship, start focusing on yourself. Start to move your attention and focus away from the thing that you have been working so hard on and attend to the things that you have been neglecting. It’s going to bring in so much more balance and probably a fresh perspective on your outlook of life. Have faith in the Universe as well as in yourself for the hard work and effort that you have put in previously!

 Pile 5:

Tarot: Page of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Swords

Oracle: THE HEALING TEMPLE OF THE LUNAR LIGHT (19) – Life cycles, energy healing, communication // WARRIOR WOMAN – Have you answered your deepest calling? // CHILDREN – Your love life is being affected by children. // APPRECIATE THIS MOMENT (33) – Every situation is an opportunity to grow and find love. // LIKE ATTRACTS LIKE (2) – If you long for more love, be more loving.

Darling, for those who have children, one message that I am hearing is to spend more time with your children and I see that by spending more time with them, you might gain some insights or valuable lessons that you previously have missed or neglected. But for the rest of you, I’m seeing that there will be quite a bit of fun coming in for you.

It has been a period of healing for you and I feel like now, the Universe wants you to set yourself free and to just simple enjoy and have fun. It is important to look at things from a different perspective, and to take this current moment with great appreciation. Times are difficult now, so the more I’m seeing is that you are asked to appreciate the moment with the people around you, with the people you love.

I’m getting quite a bit of communication as well so for those who are waiting for a message or to just communicate someone, I feel like it will happen. Someone would be coming in with some sort of message and I’m just getting general overall good vibes in regards to this message. But darling, remember that if you aren’t comfortable with this person that is coming through, it’s okay to reject and to set those healthy boundaries.

Understand that every situation is an opportunity to grow and find love and I feel like within this week, you will start to learn to be appreciative of the things you have and the people around you or it can also mean that someone (who is probably coming in with that message) is learning to be appreciative of you and that’s why he/she wants this communication.

No matter what, I see so much fun and joy in the week to come and this can just come in small pockets of celebration and enjoyment. Or at the very least, I see you simply enjoying yourself, even if it’s very small things in the week to come!

[beckinblack61]

Welp.

How ironic that after hoping to write daily, I forget to post the day after starting. Oh well. Was this a lofty, stupid idea? Yes, highly likely. Am I considering deleting my account after no more than 5 days since making it? Possibly. Will I? Probably not.

So, may this post make up for my missing yesterday’s.

Today’s Topic: Careers?

At one point in time, as we all are when young, I had everything planned out. I knew that it was my goal to attend an Ivy League school and become a certified public accountant. And then, I wanted to be an astrophysicist immediately after reading Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s Astrophysics for People in a Hurry. That was all in either 7th or 8th grade, during lovely middle school, just before heading off to high school, where everyone thought we would suddenly become confident, cool, and sure-footed, and set out on our individual destinies.

Then high school came along and through wrenches into all of those plans. I’m a current senior who is graduating in only a few months. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve panicked over the thought of having to choose a career, a major, or area of study. The question of “What do you want to be when you grow up?” suddenly became real and terrifying. For a while I thought about pursuing a career in art. Then my lack of any art skills and confidence proved that unlikely. I’ve thought about a career in writing, although similarly that idea is completely out of the window now.

For a little while, between a month or a year, it really felt like I had no purpose, no place in life where I fit confidently and successfully. I felt like college would be a total waste and that the idea of a “career” simply didn’t fit me. Frankly, I felt like a failure. I believed I hit my peak early in high school or even middle school as the student with straight A’s who was on every teacher’s good side. I was that kid who was called “gifted” early on and doomed to then only live to fulfill other’s expectations of me. Straight A’s became a standard, not anything great but just what was expected from me, and anything less, even a B+, meant I was suddenly “giving up” in my mother’s eyes. If I wasn’t outperforming the majority of my classmates, I was nothing. I’ve panicked a handful of times to the point of breaking over lack-luster grades. And me, being extremely unathletic, introverted, unsocial, and quiet, was defined only by my grades, by my academic success. I had nothing else to my name.

I realized this, and I felt lost. Throughout my life I’ve been told that I would be great at whatever I tried to be, by a lot of people. But, whenever I tried to picture myself in a career or at a job, I was never, ever, confident in myself, and I hardly ever felt passionate about the idea of a specific career path. Again, as I’ve said, I really felt like I had peaked early and was only on a path headed downhill from then on.

Thankfully, quite recently, I’ve seemed to have broken out of those destructive mindsets, and am doing a lot better mentally than I have been in the past few years. I couldn’t really tell you what changed, but a few things somewhat come to mind. 

As of recent, I’ve become a lot more confident with my gender identity and sexuality, albeit I’m not out of the closet yet. I think not understanding that before added to the stress of picturing myself at a career, especially since now I know, somewhat, who I picture myself as in the future. If I pictured a feminine girl at a career, of course I would feel uninspired by it, regardless of the career but because of the person I thought I had to be, since I now know I’m not meant to be a feminine girl.

Also, I’ve become for comfortable with the idea of failure. Of course, I don’t want to fail or anything like that, but I’m okay if I do. It’s only human to at some point or another, if not even frequently.

This ties into the previous two I feel like, but I’ve become ready to learn about myself. I used to think I had to already know who I was, what I wanted to be, what I was destined for, before even becoming it, if that makes sense. Now I know that I have to try something before knowing if I’ll like it or not, at least in most cases. I’m open to discovering if a career fits or not through trial and error, no matter how long it takes.

Somewhat similarly, I’m okay if what I want to do or become isn’t who I’ve been. It’s okay to change, no matter how drastically. It’s okay to realize that you’ve become uninterested with something you used to love, and realize that you love the idea of pursuing something else.

So, let me tell you of my current ideas/plans, and maybe later down the line we can see how accurate I was. Currently, I plan on attending a public university (so not an ivy league.) I think I want to major in English and possibly minor in Creative Writing. I feel like I’ve settled on the idea of pursuing a career in the publishing and printing field of books. Either a publisher’s assistant, a copy editor, or someone who helps literally print and manufacture books, I’m not sure, but they all sound appealing. I know I love books, but that can be a topic for another day. I could go on and on about my relationship with them.

What’s ironic about this is that my school currently offers a class in which you learn about publishing, printing, binding books, and everything about printing presses, among other things. And, I missed the opportunity of taking this in-hindsight-perfect course because I chose a different program where I learn about digital media, how to build webpages, write code, use Photoshop, Illustrator, and other Adobe software, learn how to animate, etc. Albeit, these will no doubt be useful in some cases with my current idea of a career path, as the two programs greatly overlap in some areas, so it’s not a huge waste of time, and I do enjoy what I’m learning, but the fact of the matter is is that with what I’m currently studying I “should” pursue a different career path, but I’m okay with the fact I have interests elsewhere.

Am I disappointing my parents by attending a public university? Funnily enough, no. My mother is extremely glad that I want to go to a somewhat local college, which a few of my relatives currently attend, making her even more comfortable with it, and she would never have let me go states away to Yale, Harvard, or the like anyways, which is a whole other issue that I will save for another day.

And with that, I bid you adieu. May we see if my current plans come true or change overnight, which is always a possibility.

Best regards,

              Briar

Sunday, November 15, 2020, 10:12 AM

P.S.

In hindsight, I realize I’ve technically not missed a day of writing, as I ended my last writing after the hours ticked past midnight, leading to the start of a new day from when I initially commenced writing. How charming is that.

[musingsofawannabewriter]

Can I Be More Than The Person I Have Become?

Here I am again. Once every few months, sometimes years I get that urge to put pen to paper or in this instance finger to keyboard.

When I was little reading my mom’s Jodi Picoult, Danielle Steele or Avon romance novels I felt inspired. I wanted to write a book people would cherish and love. Then I read Purple Hibiscus and then the doubts came.

Purple Hibiscus is one of my favorite books ever and the author Chimamanda is an inspiration to me. But the doubts came because I believed I could never write a book as amazing as Purple Hibiscus, that stirred so many emotions and feelings in me that with each rereading makes me discover something new. It didn’t help that Chimamada is that perfect Igbo first daughter who has a first degree and not one but 2 MA’s and speaks fluent Igbo.

My admiration for her was tinged with a lot of jealousy. I am an Igbo first daughter, that can barely speak/understand Igbo despite growing up in Nigeria most of my life, I only have a BA in Law, I failed spectacularly at a Masters programme that from the start I only applied to because I thought it was expected of me. 

There are so many flaws in myself I could spend hours picking on but won’t for the sake of bringing down the mood of this article/opinion piece. Despite feeling I could never measure up to CNA I still chose literature as my elective in my GCSE’s and WAEC exams. Had an A for both and was the best student in class for the former. But I still felt like a fraud. I understand English, I speak it but the technical rules stump me sometimes. Like the semicolon… No matter how many times I can’t seem to retain when it applies. I suck at writing dialogue because I am always confused where to add the apostrophes and commas. Subject verb agreement, well I stumble my way through and hope for the best which has worked out okay so far.

I used to write in notebooks fervently in Secondary School. I would craft stories which would get passed around different students and their compliments and eagerness to read my words fueled me. I was going to be a writer maybe.. Get my first degree in Law then a Masters in Creative Writing. Maybe after becoming successful I’d be the next Michaela Coel adapting my work to the screen to great critical acclaim.

Well let’s just say reality hit hard, no punches pulled whatsoever. I left my sheltered Nigerian boarding school after graduation to go to the UK full time for my A Levels. First mistake was spending my years pocket money in under 3 months. Second mistake was essentially being mute for my first year of school. I have always been quite reserved and find it hard to talk to people. Going to a full boarding school meant I saw my classmates almost 24/7 so bonding and socialisation was inevitable. Well with A levels only having 3 subjects to study and it being a day school meant I could go a week without speaking to anyone except the lovely lunch ladies in the cafeteria.

If I am being honest I wasn’t used to interacting with white people and felt self conscious about my accent so it was a perfect storm. 

Then the whopper…I have always had a complicated relationship with food. Since I was younger my weight has fluctuated heavily. It didn’t help that my mom was one of those slightly bigger women who decided to become a gym addict and drop all the weight. A lot of her insecurity from being bigger rubbed off on me, directly and indirectly.

Having your mom take you to exercise classes at 13 hurts. Having your mom be so happy to see you lose so much weight because the food at your boarding school sucked hurts. Having people complimenting your mum and asking how you're related to her cuts even deeper. Every stab at my heart at confidence got buried deep. In school, I would restrict my eating by spending breakfasts which I hated asleep in class, would skip a few lunches then binge at dinner times. This had the effect of keeping my weight stable.

Even then my mom still criticised my weight. When I look back at my size 12/14 self in secondary school who was gorgeous, a rage fills me. I was so beautiful but with zero confidence. I hurt so much and wish I could go back in time for a few minutes to tell myself I was worthy of being liked, by others and myself.

Eventually being away from my mom, the safety of my boarding school friends and siblings made it easy to seek solace in food. I was in the UK, I was living in student accommodation and for the first time in my life I had a debit card. I spent hundreds of £s a month in takeaways. Then I spent over £100 on diet pills which made me feel ill. In under a year I went from a size 14 to 24 to my mothers horror and mine. I didn’t know about the body positivity movement or Tess Holliday. I only knew that my mom was angry and sad and worried I would die in my sleep one night.

In almost a decade, that has been one of her mantras when talking to me about my weight. That she can’t bury her child and she’s afraid one night I will sleep and not wake up. In her mind its concern, but the way she says it feels like emotional manipulation.

Reading back there’s a lot of mother bashing going on, but it is not intentional. Some people are besties with their mothers and I prefer a more distant relationship. We will eventually get to the daddy issues but that will take some tears and a while before I can go into that.

I crave the catharsis of writing. The word vomit and jumbled feelings in the pit of my stomach. It helps me see myself as that idealistic 16 year old with a heart full of dreams and hopes. Not the current dried out husk I think I am now. I think of my future in abstract terms.

I don’t see a family, mortgage or dog. I just see myself barely existing. I feel this with a resigned calmness. Then I have my internal spiral of being to shortsighted and hasty in writing my life off at 25. I read tweets about people finding first love in their 30s, going back to school in their 40’s and getting into their careers in their 50s. Then I hear that voice in the far corner of my mind whispering, do I even want to make it to my 40’s…

And I answer back quietly that I really don't want to make it to my 40s. I’ll maybe hold on till my parents die so my mom doesn’t lord it over me that she had to bury her child and not the other way around. But some nights I really don’t want to be alive. Some nights I wish I was never born and just like clockwork the tears start. Those tears that I hold in and the dark thoughts I numb with the stimuli of food, YouTube and now K dramas.

For the past few years, I have made my Other World. This Other World is essentially a parallel universe. In this universe I have no issues with food, I have an incredible metabolism that means I can eat virtually anything without guilt. I make friends my first day of college and join so many student societies and actually participate. I push myself in school and get into my mother’s dream of a Russell Group. I choose LSE though she wishes I chose Queen Mary. I work hard, join the Law Society, meet a lovely British Nigerian with a great background, we date a few years and get married. I get a Masters in Creative Writing and have an amazing blog which gets adapted to a critically acclaimed series and I am fulfilled.

Sometimes my Other World self changes. She is the daughter of millionaires who is a genius, polyglot and fighter of social justice. I can sing, know martial arts and take the movie world by storm. Other times I am just pretty and living a simple but happy life. I know in my heart that these are just fantasies and sometimes I wish I could be like Buffy in that episode of BTVS and stay stuck in that Other World fully. I’m sure you’re thinking about my family who I’d leave behind. My response is I can’t miss them if I never remember I had them.

I am the first daughter, the Ada. My parents though flawed always tell me I am a great role model for my siblings. I am seemingly still a virgin, don’t drink, do drugs or rock the boat too much. And I feel even worse. I feel guilty that with all they have sacrificed that they have been stuck with an average daughter and by upper middle class Nigerian standards, if that even exists, a sub par Ada. I feel defective looking around and seeing others in the peak of their careers, vetting engaged, building houses for their parents. I am still afraid of driving!! I can’t even get that basic skill down.

4 years post LLB, no LLM to at least lessen me not being a lawyer and stuck in a customer service role almost 3 years now. I know I am at fault for not making the right decisions. Not applying for the grad jobs or vacancy schemes in time. Being so down and depressed I wouldn’t leave my room for days and weeks at a time. Failing all my LLM modules, adding back all the weight and more after boot camps with my parents, not having enough savings and having an even worse accent after almost a decade in the UK.

My self-deprecating joke I tell is that my sister is the multi talented one, my brother the smart ambitious one and as my parents say I have a big heart. That essentially my parents would say my thing is having a big heart, like that ever helped anyone build a career. I thought if I couldn’t write then I could maybe study Social Work. That got shot down by my mother and I was persuaded to go into the path of Law for University. I applied for Social Work Schemes and got rejected multiple times over multiple years. I was too scared to sink my own money to self fund a Social Work Masters in case it became another LLM fiasco. SO now I have made Teaching my next career goal. I am resigning myself to it the way Henry the 8ths spouses and mistresses must have whenever he wanted to bed them. Powerless and without a choice. Then I think that’s  false equivalency and my pain could not be on the level of the pain they must have endured.

So many feelings, deep thoughts and memories flow out when I get the writing urge. I will likely never actually share this in full for obvious reasons except maybe anonymously. These few pages have jumped through quite a few time periods and experiences. My thoughts aren’t always linear and that ties in with something else I acknowledge but haven’t been serious about. I legitimately think I have ADHD and/or BPD. Watching the diagnosis episode of Crazy Ex Girlfriend by the amazing Rachel Bloom shone a light on feelings and behaviours I have had for a while. Maybe that’s why from the first episode of the show I was in love. She was stuck in the past, holding onto Josh who represented a time in her life of happiness. She had cutaways to magical musical numbers involving herself and the people around her.

The ADHD comes from following iconic black women on twitter who were outspoken about their diagnosis and bringing focus to how black women were being underdiagnosed. But then I think maybe I want to have ADHD as an excuse for the failures in my life and with the current NHS waiting lists I may not get a formal diagnosis for a while. So for now I manage and exist.

I like being honest in my writing. Exposing those dark parts of myself that I let fester in the recesses of my heart and mind. 

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 9/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Quentin Lance, Dinah Lance, Ted Grant, Thea Queen, John Diggle, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Dinah left the Starling City airport with her suitcase rolling behind her, a small bout of nerves starting to grow. It had been so long since she’d been here, she almost didn’t recognize the place. And she worried perhaps the people wouldn’t recognize her.

But she had news, urgent news. And she needed help. Maybe once Sara was back home safe and sound, everything would be alright.

She had Laurel’s address written on a little post-it note. The sticky part on the back had long worn out, but she’d managed to hang onto it all these years. Every so often on a birthday or Christmas, she took it out and considered… but it would have been too late, she had always reasoned. Her daughter would have wondered why she had decided to reach out at that moment. Well, now she did have a reason.

She took the elevator up to the third floor and rolled her suitcase all the way down the hall, knocking on the door at the end. Dinah drew in a deep breath as she waited, hearing footsteps approach.

A young man in a shirt and tie answered the door. “Hello?”

Dinah’s greeting caught in her throat, unsure of what to do. Was this a friend of Laurel’s? More than a friend?

“Tim, who is it?” A young woman’s voice called out. A young woman who was decidedly not her daughter.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong address,” she stated before Tim could answer. “I’m visiting family.”

“Oh. Well, if you need a directory or something—”

“No, that’s alright.” Dinah gripped the handle of her suitcase and took a step back. “I’ll be fine.”

She turned and left the building. With great reluctance, she directed her feet towards the precinct. She’d been hoping to speak to Laurel before Quentin, but if needs must then they must.

Dinah wasn’t surprised to find him working. He always was. She found him with his head buried in a file, only a little worse for wear than when she’d last seen him.

“Just a minute,” he said with a vague wave in her direction.

“That’s alright,” Dinah replied and watched as he froze before looking up at her.

“Dinah. What- what are you doing here?” He was staring at her like she was a ghost, and he stood slowly, one hand braced on the desk.

“Well, it’s about Sara. And about Laurel, I suppose,” she added with a shrug. “Do you know where I can find her? I tried her old apartment, but she seems to have moved out.”

“Yeah, she did that about a month ago,” Quentin told her. “Look, I’ll give you the address, but I better go over there with you. It’s in the Glades.”

“The Glades?” Even when she’d been living in Starling, the Glades hadn’t been the nicest place to find yourself. From the few news stories she’d read at times while feeling nostalgic, that had only gotten worse. “What is she doing there?”

Quentin sighed and grabbed his keys. “I’ll explain on the way.”

He started with the appearance of the vigilante known as the Hood, how he’d reached out to Laurel and how their daughter had supported him. The botched attempt at bringing him in that had resulted in Laurel’s name becoming attached to the Hood and how she’d been forced to choose between him and her job. Laurel’s subsequent fall from grace.

Even listening to the explanation, it was hard for her to grasp. “Quentin, how could this happen?”

“Well, it did. And don’t look at me like that. At least I was here.”

Dinah stared down at her lap. His words were only so biting because they were true. But he didn’t understand why she hadn’t been able to stay. None of them could.

He slowed down as they turned onto a narrow street with cars parked up both sides. “Well, which one is it?”

“I’m looking.” He stopped peering out the window to glance back at her sheepishly. “We, uh, got into it a bit, and I haven’t been over yet. But we’re patching things up.”

Dinah said nothing. She couldn’t exactly criticize him. And if both her ex-husband and daughter were in forgiving moods already, perhaps that was for the better.

He finally picked a spot to parallel park in and they both got out. A dog was barking somewhere off in the distance, and loud music echoed out of a window down the street.

Quentin knocked on the door. When it opened, Dinah couldn’t hold in a gasp.

Five years was five years, yet still they had not prepared her for the differences in her daughter. Laurel’s eyes jumped from Quentin to Dinah, widening for a moment and then narrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Quentin raised his hands up. “Look, this wasn’t me. She came to the station and asked to see you.”

Dinah stepped forward, one hand reaching out. “You’ve changed your hair.”

Laurel drew back before she could quite touch the strands. “So have you.”

Dinah let her arm fall. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Would it be alright if your father and I came in?”

Laurel shrugged and stepped back. They followed her into a tiny living room that was separated from the kitchen only by a pillar with a counter branching out of one side of it. There was a couch and little else in the way of furniture. A hallway that barely fit one person held two doors; presumably bedroom and bathroom.

“Well, it’s… it’s efficient,” she remarked with a smile she hoped didn’t look too forced.

“It’s affordable,” Laurel said bluntly. “But I don’t think you’re here to inspect my living conditions, mom. You didn’t care to for the last five years.”

Dinah looked down. “Yes, I know. But I have something to tell you both, and it’s important.”

Both father and daughter had their arms crossed, staring her down. They’d always been so alike. Dinah squared her shoulders and gathered her breath. “I think Sara’s still alive.”

Quentin’s mouth dropped open. “You- how? You’ve heard from her?”

“No, but I believe she survived.”

Laurel didn’t look the least bit convinced. “If Sara survived the shipwreck, Oliver would have said so.”

“He might not know. I’ve done research. There are countless small islands in the North China Sea that she could’ve washed up on and found food, shelter.”

“What makes you so sure she did?” Quentin asked.

Dinah pulled out her trump card. ��There’s a photo of an unidentified girl in the same region. Quentin, look at the hat.” She held the photo out to him and watched his expression turn first incredulous and then hopeful. “It’s just like the one you bought Sara.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he agreed softly.

“Yes, because it’s the official Rockets baseball cap sold in countless stores in the city and the stadium,” Laurel pointed out. They both looked up at her frowning face. “Let’s say Sara did make it off the Gambit alive. How did she hang onto a hat for five years and keep it in that good of condition?”

“There’s no proof that she couldn’t have,” Dinah pointed out, her voice far more feeble than she wanted it.

“Then take it to the authorities or the embassies. I don’t know why you’d bring it to me.” Her daughter turned and made as if to settle on the couch.

“Because this is about our family, Laurel,” Dinah snapped. “I know what Sara did hurt you, but don’t you care?”

Laurel stopped on a dime and spun around. “You’re asking if I care about this family? Our family died the same night Sara did. And not just because of that, but because of everything you didn’t do after.” Dinah flinched, yet Laurel continued right on. “Did you ever ask me how I felt? If I was okay? You just left, mom!”

“Honey, come on,” Quentin tried to intercede, but Laurel gave a sharp shake of the head.

“You’ve been chasing a ghost the last five years while dad and I are right here! I’ve been here this whole time, and you didn’t care. And I’m not saying I’m good enough to make up for losing Sara — but I’m… I’m something, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I have been something to you? Something to stay for?” The anger banked by the time she finished, leaving her daughter’s pleading eyes staring at her.

Dinah was at a loss for words for a long moment. “Please, Laurel, I didn’t mean — you and your father have always been so alike. You had each other. I thought you’d be alright. If I’d known that- that something like this—”

She gestured around the cramped space, and her daughter scoffed.

“Believe me, dad has given plenty of lectures.”

“But he has a point. He says you lost your job because you were protecting this- this Hood. You care about him.”

Laurel’s chin raised in defiance. “I care about the good he’s doing for the city.”

Dinah shook her head. “Sweetheart, please. I know what it’s like to feel you need to do something no matter the consequences. No matter who gets hurt. Even if it’s you. Sara was doing the same thing.”

Laurel stilled, and Quentin looked up from his close examination of the floor. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Dinah stopped herself. Could she really say this? If it helped Laurel in any way, it stood to reason that she owed it to her after all this time. “I saw her the day she left.”

“What?” The question was Quentin’s, hoarse and disbelieving.

Dinah bowed her head again. “I came home early and she was packing. She told me everything, said she was in love when I asked her not to go. I said she shouldn’t do it to you, Laurel,” she added, taking a step towards her daughter, who backed up in equal measure. “But Sara always followed her heart, just like me. You’re not that way, Laurel. You can stop this.”

Quentin sat on the arm of the couch, his head in his hands. He probably couldn’t bare to look at her.

Laurel couldn’t seem to look away, even as her lip trembled and her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I follow my heart?”

Dinah drew back at the iciness in her tone. Laurel took a step back towards her so there were now inches between them.

“What do you think I was following when I agreed to a date with Oliver even knowing his reputation? When I ignored all the texts he must have been sending to other women? When I took out the lease on my old apartment thinking I’d be sharing it with another person? Did you and Sara forget that I loved him, too, or did it just not matter?”

Dinah backed up until she bumped into some shelving set in the wall, but Laurel wasn’t done. It seemed she’d unwittingly broken a dam holding five years of questions and accusations at bay.

“I follow my heart plenty of other places, too, you know? Like to the bars, to drag my father home since he can’t make it back by himself even while he’s wishing I was the one in the ocean instead of Sara. Or when I did work at CNRI, because God knows I wasn’t following a paycheck!” Laurel breathed in and out once harshly, her hands going up to her temples. To Dinah, it looked like she wanted to scream.

“Laurel, I- I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

Laurel let out a bitter laugh. “Well, how could you, mom? You weren’t here.” She walked away into the kitchen, but stopped and leaned against the counter to look at them both again. “Look, I have a friend working at the Chinese Embassy. I’ll send dad her information, and you can ask for her help with your photo as a favor to me. But the next time you come over, try calling first. Send a postcard, maybe.”

She pushed off the counter and walked to the back door, slamming it behind her and leaving a complete silence and stillness in the room.

Quentin was staring at the floor, whether out of disgust with her or shame over the things Laurel had said about him, Dinah wasn’t sure. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Let’s, uh… let’s give her some space. You- you got somewhere to stay?”

Dinah shook her head. Laurel’s old apartment had had a spare room and been in a much safer neighborhood. She wasn’t comfortable staying here even if her eldest had offered, but it seemed the polite young lady they had raised was gone, an angry woman who refused to mince her words in her place.

Her ex guided her out the front door with one hand lightly resting on her elbow, as if afraid to touch her fully.

“Well, we’ll find you something,” Quentin said.

Something turned out to be Quentin’s apartment, where she stayed in the guest room at her own insistence. She could see him swallow back the pain and injured pride.

Dinah couldn’t help fearing that Laurel had been right; their family was broken and finding Sara might not be the easy fix she’d hoped it to be.

---

Laurel paced the small lot behind her home in agitation, heart pounding still. It had been so much of what she’d wanted to say for so long — but what was going to happen now?

She’d only just agreed to try mending fences with her father again. Would he be angry with her for what she’d said? Even if it had been the truth.

And her mother. She’d probably just thrown any chances of reconciliation out the window, but why should it be up to her to make amends with a woman who hadn’t bothered to be in her life for five years? She was only here now because of Sara anyway, and she’d likely be gone the minute she found out one way or the other if Sara was alive. If her sister was really alive, maybe her dad would leave, too. The three of them could get along happily being a family together without her.

Laurel had told Oliver once that she was nobody in Starling City now that she’d lost her job as a lawyer to make trouble. He’d disagreed, but the proof was in her sitting room that she had always been a nobody. To the people that should’ve mattered, anyway.

Laurel had always hoped Sara just hadn’t been thinking about her when she got on the boat. That she’d simply been caught up in the euphoria. But to know that their mother had directly appealed to her however briefly on Laurel’s behalf, and that Sara had just ignored that?

God, she’d defended her sister from bullies in school who’d accused her of trying to steal their boyfriends, only for her sister to turn around and do it to her. And it took two, she knew that. But had Sara even felt a sliver of guilt over it all?

She had so many questions for a sister she would never get the answers from. In some ways, like her mother, she was haunted by ghosts.

“Laurel?”

She looked up and to her left. Anita was standing out on the tiny back patio she and Jerome had, an afghan wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey. Um, what’s up?”

“Heard some shouting. Was kind of impressed you were managing to have a domestic with only one person.”

Laurel grimaced. “I wasn’t alone. My parents decided to drop by unannounced.”

“Ah, family.” Her neighbor nodded, then gestured her over with an arm. “Feel free to hide out here. We can work on your sewing some more.”

Laurel glanced at her back door once before walking across. “You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, Jerome’s out with some friends. I was meeting some of the Salon girls for drinks later, but Izzy’s son came down with something, and it just sort of fell through. You know, canceling plans feels almost better than making them.”

Laurel nodded. “I was always more of a ‘don’t make any plans in the first place’ kind of girl.”

Anita hummed as she got down two glasses from her kitchen cabinet, then grabbed a bottle of red out of the fridge.

“I found some fabric I thought we could add to the inside of one of your jackets. Make it more fun.” She passed Laurel one glass and set hers and the bottle down before rummaging in her supplies. “See, it’s got flowers!”

Laurel felt herself smile. “Yeah. They look like some kind of hibiscus.” It was hard to tell what kind since they were white lines against a hot pink background, but she was getting better at picking out the shapes at least.

They settled on the floor of the sitting room with their wine and their respective work. Laurel could see why Anita did so much sewing. It sort of demanded a concentration that allowed someone to tune out whatever they didn’t want to think about.

Though, halfway through their cups, Anita did ask, “So, is everything gonna be okay after your fight?”

Laurel sighed. “I guess. It’ll probably just go back to the way it was, unless they miraculously do find Sara — my sister.”

Anita nodded. “The girl on the boat? I remember they talked about her on the news when billionaire boy came back.”

“Yeah. Well, because he came back, my mom’s convinced Sara’s still out there, too, and came to us after five years of no contact asking for our help. I… kind of let her have it.”

“I’d hope so. What, she never even called? Checked in?”

Laurel shook her head before finishing off her drink. She held her glass out and Anita refilled it. “But she had plenty to say about my current situation.”

“They always do.”

“And who is she to come in after all these years and judge? Apparently she just assumed I’d be fine. Well, she didn’t do anything to make sure I would be.”

“Something tells me you haven’t been fine for a long time,” Anita observed, and Laurel paused in her next stitch.

“You know, of all the people in my life, I think you’re the first person who’s ever guessed that.”

“You should’ve got yourself therapy while you still had the insurance coverage, hon.”

Laurel met Anita’s eyes and snorted. Her friend soon started laughing with her. They kept laughing until Laurel’s sides hurt and she started listing to the side a little.

She calmed down with a few deep breaths and said. “Well, it’s too late for that, but this helps.”

“Good.”

They each pulled their work back towards them and began anew.

She stayed later than she’d meant to at Anita’s and between the two of them they finished a bottle of wine. As a result, Laurel woke up later than she intended, groggy and hungry. Opening her fridge made her aware that she’d run out of milk which meant no scrambled eggs, one of the few dishes she was starting to perfect.

It’d be easier to run down and grab a breakfast sandwich from Sammy’s, but it’d be cheaper in the long run to get the milk and be able to make herself breakfast for the next week. With a sigh, Laurel shoved her feet in her shoes and left her apartment.

As Laurel approached the corner store she heard the staccato of a hammer hitting a nail. To her growing confusion, as she walked around, she spotted the shopkeeper nailing boards to the windows on the side.

“Mr. Khan?”

“Ah, Laurel!” The man straightened up and wiped his hands on his apron. He hurried inside and she followed him to the counter as he asked, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m just grabbing some milk. Is everything okay?”

“I hope it will be. That’s all I can do, hope,” he replied with a sigh. “The gangs have been getting worse since all the business with Bertinelli and the Triad. Yesterday, a couple of young men came in here asking for a protection fee.”

“They’re trying to start a racket?” Laurel asked with a frown.

“Seems that way. They tell me I have twenty-four hours to come up with the fee.” He wrung his hands in his apron and smiled ruefully. “I’m barely covering my overhead, and they expect me to have more money.”

“Did you try the police?”

“There’s no evidence of a crime, they said. So they want me to wait for these boys to come and destroy my store.”

Laurel shook her head, disgusted. It was so typical of everything going on. And everything she had resolved to help stop the other night.

She turned away from the counter, thinking it over as she retrieved the milk from the cooler. “Mr. Khan, did they say what time they’d be here?”

“Night. But I’ll be closing early. I do not want anyone hurt. I’m glad you came by today in the daytime.”

“Me too.” She wouldn’t have known anything about it otherwise. Laurel took her change and receipt as he handed them to her, then grabbed the jug as well. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Laurel quick-marched home. As it stood to her mind, she had three options: try reaching out to her father to see if he could persuade a couple officers to change their beat for the night, call Oliver and hope he was willing to suit up so soon after what happened to Mr. Merlyn, or take care of things herself. Which was what she had decided she was going to do, wasn’t it?

Laurel put the milk away and went back into her room, searching through her closet. What could she use to cover up? Some hats, a couple hoodies, a ski mask from back when she used to accompany Oliver and Tommy to Aspen.

Oliver had made do with a ski mask before. Why couldn’t she do the same?

It wouldn’t be enough to just threaten them into going away. Laurel needed weapons. She had a baseball bat and her fists. Maybe not the best odds, but it was better than nothing. And bringing her own gun would be tantamount to just leaving her ID there for the police to find. If the police even bothered to show up.

The sun sank lower in the sky as Laurel paced her apartment like some kind of caged animal. Could she do it? If she did, was it just proof she’d really lost it?

If she did nothing, Mr. Khan could lose everything. It was that thought that finally pushed her out of her door.

She came around from the side of the store, trying to stay out of the lamplight as she pulled the ski mask down over her face. There was no one out front.

Just as she started to lose her nerve again, she picked up the sounds of laughter and loud talking. Four young men with rocks and bricks came down the street, making no secret of their approach.

If she hesitated, they’d start throwing their projectiles. Laurel drew in a breath, pushed away from the wall, and stepped around the corner. The men gradually slowed to a stop as they caught sight of her.

“Hey.”

They stared at her for a minute or so, a couple sniggers breaking out.

“What’s your deal, lady?” One called out.

“My deal is that you’re attacking an innocent man’s livelihood to extort him for your own gain. That’s a crime at the state level.”

None of them seemed to know what to do with that.

“So what?”

She raised the bat meaningfully. That got loud guffaws of laughter for her trouble.

“Khan too cheap to call the Hood for help?”

“I’m not here for anyone but myself.” Her voice and limbs remained steady, but underneath that her heart was hammering so loudly she didn’t know how they all couldn’t hear it. Was she really going to do this? Assault someone in an act that decidedly couldn’t be called self defense?

A rock was thrown, and Laurel ducked on instinct. It smashed against the wall of the shop, narrowly missing a window. She swore under her breath. This wasn’t about keeping herself safe.

A man walked up to her in a swaggering manner, clearly not taking her seriously. Laurel screwed up her nerves and struck him in the chest with the bat.

He staggered back with a yell. She adjusted her hold on the bat, feeling the pulse of her heart in her ears as she readied herself the meet the others now running towards her.

It was a flurry of swings and kicks, everything she remembered from self defense and everything she’d learned from Ted the past few weeks. Like Sara’s old bullies, these boys didn’t have a refined fighting form; they had strength and size on their side. Laurel couldn’t do much about her height, but she’d gotten plenty stronger since her school days.

She was struck in the back and nearly dropped her bat but managed to keep her grip. Laurel growled in the back of her throat, whirling around and swinging it into her attacker’s gut. He grunted and fell back. 

One of them tried to grab for her ski mask, and she elbowed him in the face. The other two backed up as he fell and she raised the bat again.

“Still think this is worth it?” Laurel asked.

“She’s crazy!”

“Bitch!”

Laurel took great, heaving breaths as she watched them all stagger and run away into the night. The inside of the ski mask was damp with condensation, and her back was starting to throb with a dull pain — but she felt exhilarated.

She’d done it. She’d really done it. Protected this shop all on her own. No one had even had to die.

She held in the impulse to squeal and placed a hand to her back when it gave a particularly painful twinge. She was going to need to stop by Mr. Khan’s tomorrow for some over-the-counter pain meds.

But as far as she was concerned, worth it? Oh, yeah.

---

She didn’t show up the next two days and when she did, it was with a limp she was trying her best to disguise.

“Rough night?” Ted asked as he passed by her at the punching bag. 

Laurel nodded. “Tripped over a curb coming home. Didn’t see it in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.” He kept walking but didn’t really move on.

Ted watched his student with a careful eye. There was something different, alright. A part of him was afraid to look into what it was; a part of him thought he already knew the answer.

And if he did, what could he do about it? He wasn’t the type to call the cops on his students, and anyway if he did what was to stop them thinking he had something to do with it? He’d been let off before, but Ted knew his past wasn’t as distant as he might like.

People got into fights all the time. It didn’t have to mean anything. Even if he could see the gleam in her eye, the spring to her step in spite of the injury. Even if he knew in his heart this wasn’t going to be a one-time occurrence.

But there’d been nothing in the news yet. No reason for him to think anything of it. He’d just have to keep watching and be ready to intervene sooner this time, if she went the same way Isaac did.

God, he hoped not. Because despite his current misgivings, he liked this girl.

---

Oliver kept on with his mission. He had to. Not only was it his father’s dying wish, but if he stopped now people might suspect it had something to do with Mr. Merlyn’s condition. That somehow, he meant something more to the Hood than just a person he hadn’t managed to save from the corruption of this city.

He went back to the list, going tougher on the billionaires and their lackeys that held his city in a chokehold than ever before. 

That meant less time at home. As always, Digg had some objections.

“Don’t you think you should take an early day sometime, Oliver? Check in with your family?”

“Thea and my mother are as fine as they will be,” he replied in the middle of a workout. It was his mother he was trying to avoid more than his sister, truth be told.

“And what about you?”

“I’m fine. I see people. I just had lunch with Laurel the other day.”

“So the one person you’re supposed to be keeping your distance from for appearances sake, you’ve been hanging out with.”

Oliver shrugged helplessly.

“You taking McKenna out anytime soon?”

He shook his head. “We talked over the phone yesterday. Decided to call it quits. She’s busy, I’m…”

“The reason she’s busy,” Diggle finished.

“Yeah, and that was probably a sign it wasn’t going to last.” He gave up on the workout and turned to face his friend. “Look, I know you worry about me, John, but this is how things have to be for now.”

They both looked up at the ceiling at the sound of yelling. It wasn’t totally abnormal for Tommy to raise his voice with the contractors, but he thought he recognized the second voice as well. Oliver sighed.

“It never rains but it pours,” Digg remarked.

“I’ll be right back.” Oliver took the stairs two at a time and slipped into the back of the club. Sure enough, it was his sister he’d been hearing.

“So? I’ve been arrested, Tommy. Does that mean I couldn’t get hired here?”

“No, of course not.”

“So what separates my crimes from his?” Thea demanded. “Is it cause I’m rich enough and connected enough that I got off with community service instead of juvie?”

“No!”

Oliver stepped forward to make his presence known. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Thea whirled around as Tommy gave a put upon sigh. “Speedy here wants me to give one of the troublemakers she calls friends a job at the club.”

“Roy’s not one of my old friends,” Thea said when Oliver raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t do drugs. He just has a bit of a reputation.”

“Yeah, with the police,” Tommy added.

“You try living by yourself in the Glades from childhood and not having a record with the police,” Thea shot back.

“There are programs!” Tommy stated, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “Charities, donation drives, ways for people without means to get what they need. You literally volunteer at a legal aid office for people without money, Thea.”

“And you should see all the people we still don’t help,” Thea remarked while crossing her arms.

“I can see you’re still talking to Laurel,” Tommy returned with a grin that wasn’t the least bit kind.

“So what if I am?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “You know, on the island, I didn’t have any money.” He didn’t miss the way both Thea and Tommy’s eyes widened at the mention of Lian Yu. “And there wasn’t anywhere to pay for anything. You had to just take what you needed.”

“Yeah, well that’s- that’s different, Ollie,” Tommy excused him. “You had to do what you needed to survive.”

“Exactly. No matter where they are, people are going to do what they have to to survive.”

He noticed Thea’s lips curve up in a smile.

“The least we can do is give them a chance to try a better way, Tommy. I’m not saying put him in charge of the register. But if this Roy is serious about wanting honest work, then he can start as a busser.”

“You really mean that, Ollie?” Thea asked.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

She hurried to him and gave him a tight hug, then headed for the door. “Great! Thank you so much. I’m gonna go tell Roy right now!”

Oliver smiled after his sister, then turned to look back at Tommy who seemed far more subdued. “Sorry. I know hiring is your area.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your club,” his friend remarked. He looked up and said. “Which is why I have to resign.”

Oliver reeled back a little in shock. “What?”

“It’s not anything to do with you,” Tommy assured him with a wave of his hand. “Just… Merlyn Global.”

“You’re going to start at the company?” He tried to keep the shock out of his voice. Tommy had never expressed any interest in joining the corporate giant.

But his friend nodded. “With my father in the hospital, I need to start learning more about the company. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me in giving me this job, Ollie. It’s taught me a lot.”

“Well, hopefully it’s taught you enough to get a good start there.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No. I should have realized this was something you needed to do.” He took a couple steps to close the distance between them and reached out to Tommy’s shoulder. “Your dad would be really proud to know you’re continuing his legacy.”

A brief smile flitted across Tommy’s lips. “Let’s hope I actually can.”

They both moved in for a hug. Tommy held on just as tightly as him. Then with a pat on the back apiece, they let go.

“I’ll still see you around,” Tommy promised.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

With that, Oliver was left alone in the club. He walked over to the bar top, where Tommy had clearly been organizing some papers in preparation for him. He’d have to find the time to look through them, and soon.

In some ways, he would sorely miss Tommy’s presence and help around the club. On the other hand, it was hard to be around him right now without the guilt eating away at him. He took the papers into Tommy’s little office at the back and noticed a wilting pot of alstroemerias sitting in the corner.

One thing was for sure. Diggle probably wouldn’t like the fact that yet another person would be in his life less.

[sanguinespire]

Author Interview

Tagged by @swaps55 Thanks for thinking of me <3 Name: Spire/wRexident Fandom: Mass Effect (so far I think its the only one I’ve been smitten enough to write on) Where You Post: Tumblr| Ao3 Most Popular One-Shot: Don’t really do One-Shots. Or I haven’t yet. Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: The Virmire-Victim AU: Kaidan It has the most hits according to Ao3. It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything aside from flash fics and snippets. Favorite Story I’ve Written: It’s not one I’ve written alone. @oneiricjourney and I have conspired some off branch set of stories of our Shepards in various AUs and TLs. I gotta’ say probably the second one we ever conceived was the most heartbreaking and crazy. It’s called “Enough”. (Incoming rant)

The story starts at meeting at the Villa for N-School training. Iskandar Shepard (her “Shepard”) is the biotic. Antoni Valenza (my “Shepard”) is the soldier. Toni being the foot-in-mouth “tough” guy falls slowly in love with Iskandar, who is basically the nerdy stereotype and is a by-the-book kind of guy. They learn a lot from each other, and through a lot of grievance and hardship (sometimes due to Toni’s cavalier attitude) graduate the N7 program together. But at graduation, Toni cracks a joke about Iskandar’s name (shortened to Isk, or Ishq in Hindi which means love). He infamously says, “I plan to do a lot of worshipping later”. (Boy was talking about getting down on his knees...) This doesn’t settle well with Iskandar. He feels betrayed by Toni’s lust for him and without notice to Toni, proceeds with plans to advance his career, completely cutting Toni off in the process. Their paths split. Indefinitely. Every day, Toni blames himself for the loss of his best friend. Later, he watches as Iskandar become the Hero of Elysium. Iska is conflicted about receiving recognition as his father, Dariush Shepard, died on Elysium, giving his life to protect his only son. This drives him to be better, do more, to outgrow the shadow of his father’s expectations he feels are weighing on him. Then a year later, Toni is forced to reckon with losing his entire unit on Akuze. He goes through therapy without any support from the outside as he has no living family and grew up an orphan on Earth. It’s a 7 year gap between the time they graduate N7 School and meeting again on the Normandy, where Iskandar Shepard is assigned command. And the divide is deeper than ever. Toni has no idea how to react to seeing the new Iskandar. But the time they share on the Normandy is strained, not only by the length of time allowed, but by strong emotions. Toni had thought he had rid himself of them, but slowly he finds himself falling back into old habits and feelings with Iskandar, who is now his C.O. and irritated by Toni’s old cavalier self. So instead, he befriends Kaidan Alenko, which doesn’t play to Toni’s interests at all. And gradually Iskandar and Kaidan fall in love. Who dies on Virmire? Toni sacrifices himself to save Kaidan but luckily nor him or Kirrahe actually bite the bullet. (Don’t worry. No one is sacked in that mission.) It goes on... into ME2, where Kaidan and Toni both serve in SpecOps together, and meet Iskandar after the Horizon battle. There Kaidan leaves, saying he’ll never serve Cerberus. Toni, however, sacrifices his career to follow Iskandar. And thus their problems start anew with a heartbroken, devastated Iskandar and Toni trying to put him back together. They share a bed but never their feelings. Toni realizes he’s no replacement for Kaidan, nor will he ever have Iskandar’s true affections, and gives into the depression and doubt. (Shenanigans happen in the space between ME2 and ME3. They’re both court-martialed for betraying the Alliance.) And into ME3... Iskandar is faced with nearly losing Kaidan. Then he has a revelation that he’s developed feelings for Toni and has drifted away from K. Iskandar and Toni end up getting married pretty close to the end of ME3. And then Iskandar sacrifices himself and Toni loses him all over again. So much is lost in detail writing it out like this... We’ve run several AUs/TLs. There’s a few they end up in a poly-amorous relationship with Kaidan. I think we’ve run every cliche AU you can think of including, “One Bed”, “Roommates”, and  “Fake Dating”. There’s also a few HS AUs. Toni also has a kid and goes on to have more kids with Iskandar, Azadi, and Bashir. We have a blog dedicated to all this and probably somewhere in 70 fics or so. Plus, endless chat logs. Maybe one day we’ll get around to posting Enough. But @oneiricjourney is pretty busy with her thesis work and life and writing a huge project in her free time based on these two numbskulls.

Story you were nervous to post: It’s Okay It’s Shaeed, first person. It started as a drabble and then leapt into more. I dropped the ball on the last chapter containing the smut. I still think about re-writing it. I may do that soon, actually. How you choose your titles: Oh boy. Sometimes, they just pop out of the work. Sometimes, they’re symbolic of something. Sometimes, they’re just the descriptor. I do try to be clever sometimes and make it tie in. Complete/Incomplete: Let’s not talk about it. I have more incomplete, unfinished business in my head than I ever intended. And that includes one set of fics owed to Viktorya Shepard, and several more owed to Antoni Shepard, and several thousand more owed toward Iskandar/Toni.  I might have completed 2 things I ever set out to do. Do you outline?: Not usually. Before I write, I have a thought, a feeling, something that hooks me to the words. Either they flow or don’t. But if they don’t and I can’t write it out like I want, I’ll leave an outline, with plenty of notes for guidance. Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: See the Complete/Incomplete List above. Upcoming Story I’m excited to write: Right now, I’m trying to work through some other fics so I can get to write about Marie, Antoni’s mom, who disappeared back on Earth. In his canon story, she shows up in ME3 in unexpected company. And her story is a wild one. I’d like to tag people but I be forgetting who all is writing what. If you want to do this, tag me and I’ll be glad to read and support your fics.

[lifesucksheres20bucks]

this is pretty random, out of nowehere but could you write a soulmate au of reddie in which people can see who their soulmate based on a red string tied on their ring finger and the end of the string is tied to your soulmate, richie and eddie forgot each other because of the trauma they had on their childhood so they both believed they have no soulmate because there is no sting on their fingers and then they saw each other on a random place and the sting appear, i made a fan art on this

@weirdwaffle made some incredible art to go with this fic so go check it out!

Richie has been in Los Angeles for the past 4 years going to UCLA, busting his ass in with his Major. He decided to pursue an acting career but his parents wanted him to go to university, so they made a compromise, he could do an acting major. He also picked up a minor along the way, he wanted to dabble in the art of writing. His goal was to be able to write his own jokes and perform them on a tv show. Not to toot his own horn but he was damn good at writing jokes and at performing them. About two years ago he started doing stand up at the local comedy bar and he completely fell in love with the gig. That brings us here, the summer after he graduated, top of his class, in the middle of New York City. He probably has the shittiest apartment in the city, but he’s proud of that, because it’s his shitty apartment. One that he paid with his own money, money with no strings attached, unlike his parents money. He had come here because he wanted to work on Saturday Night Live. He wanted to be a cast member so bad but he would take any job he could, hell he would become the janitor if he had too. SNL was his dream, it combined all of his passions, acting, writing, comedy and stupid voices. He was already on the right path to working on the show. He had sent in a self tape while he was back in LA and they told him they wanted to see him perform live. The second he got that phone call he decided to pack up all of his things and move to NYC. 

Eddie on the other hand, was kind of a hot mess. He just graduated from nursing school and was working shitty night shift at the New York Presbyterian Hospital, he only accepted the job because he had interned there and they offered him a permanent post. He told himself he wasn’t going to work there long, only a year or two just to get enough experience to get a better job. Working the nights shift were the worst, he mostly got drunks with stupid superficial injuries. The most exciting thing to happen in the emergency room in the last week was that someone accidentally set their pants on fire and had 1st degree burns on their ass. Although he complained a lot about his job, he wouldn’t change it for the world. He loved being a nurse, it made him feel important and strong. When he was younger, his mom made him believe he had serious health issues, he was scared of everything and it prevented him from being a worry free kid. He didn’t remember much of his childhood, his therapist said it was probably because he had blocked out all memories of his mom and that sadly included his childhood. He always felt like something was missing like a part of his soul had been ripped out, maybe that's why he didn't have a red string on his finger. 

Everyone has a soulmate. Every person is born with a red string attached on their ring finger and once they meet their soulmate those two would connect. That’s how you knew, pretty simple actually. However, Eddie didn’t have a string on his finger, he figured his soulmate must of died before they had a chance to meet. Thinking of that made him sad, it most likely meant he was going to die alone. 

Richie didn’t have a string either, not that he cared much, he wasn’t really one for soulmates. He preferred being the guy people hooked up with before settling down with their forever partner. It was quick and without any real commitment. Plus he had an array of people to choose from, both guys and girls liked to experiment before meeting their soulmates.

A month after his live audition, Richie got a call, it was from one of the producers of SNL telling him he was going to be apart of the featured cast. After the phone call ended he collapsed to the floor, it was the best day of his life. He suddenly felt the urge to tell someone what happened he took his phone a blankly stared at his contacts, he didn’t know who he wanted to call but the urge to do it felt so powerful, he thought he was going insane. 

“It’s just the adrenaline, you’re not insane” he told himself

Instead of dwelling on what just happened, he called his parents to tell them the good news.

The week before the first SNL show of the season, the cast were practicing skits non stop. He was there from 8am to way past midnight on most days. He was exhausted but he was only so happy to be actually doing this, his dream job. One night they were practicing a skit that involve someone breaking a vase on Richie’s head. Of course they used sugar glass but somehow the last take they tried had hurt a lot more than the ones before.

“OH shit dude you’re bleeding!” one of his cast members yelled

Panic settled in Richie’s stomach as blood dripped down the side of his face. He slowly touched his forehead and felt the deep cut on his temple. 

“Dude you have to go to the hospital, that looks really bad. Come with me, I'll take you to the emergency room” Richie mindlessly followed his colleague out of the Rockefeller centre. 

“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance, I don’t know if I can walk far like this”  

“Don’t worry, it’s just on the other side of the street, we’re nearly there”

Richie walked in the emergency room and sat down on a chair, feeling very lightheaded. His colleague talked to the nurse at the reception and she told him he could wait on a bed until a nurse came to look at him.

He sat there for what felt like forever until he felt something pull at his ring finger. He looked down thinking it was hallucination coming from the blood loss but there it was, clear as day, a red string tugging at his finger. 

Eddie was finishing up with a patient when he was called to look over another one. 

“You have a patient in bed 4, head injury, so you might need stitches”

Eddie groaned, he hated giving stitches, he hated the way the needle felt when it the in the skin. He suddenly felt nervous, thinking it was because of the stitches, he just brushed it off. 

As he started walking towards bed 4 and  he feels something pulling his at his hand. He quickly looked down and saw a red string. He starts to panic, this wasn't supposed to happen, he doesn't have a soulmate. He starts to turn away, he can't do this, not now, he's not ready. He feels a full on panic attack coming on and he tries to walk away but the string is keeping him there. 

“Hey could you stop pulling, you’re starting to hurt my finger”

Eddie’s head shoots up, that voice, he knows that voice. A sense of comfort and warmth washes over him and he slowly starts walking toward the noise. He pulls back the curtain at bed 4 gasps.

“Richie…” , Eddie breathes out, he doesn’t know how he knows the guys name but he just does.

“Hiya Eds”, that nickname escapes Richie lips like it was something he was dying to say all his life.

Suddenly everything hits Eddie like truck. Derry, the quarry, all of the summer nights spent with the losers club laughing but the most important thing that came back to him was Richie. The way that Richie made him feel, how could he have forgotten a love that powerful. He can see in the way Richie’s face squints, that’s memories are coming back for him too. 

“Eddie, how could I have forgotten you”

“I don’t know Richie, none of this makes sense” 

“It’s Derry, that shit hole made us forget each other. We didn't have strings because we had already met when we were children.” 

Eddie suddenly remembers Richie injury and touches Richie’s face. He feels this feeling inside of him that he's never felt before, it’s like he’s breathing for the first time in his life. 

“I, uhm, I need to, hm, stitch you up, okay ‘chee?” Eddie didn’t know where that nickname came from but it felt right.

“ yeah hmm, Now, pip-pip and tally-ho, my good fellow, go ahead and patch me up Dr.K” Richie said in a terrible British accent

“Oh my god, I can't believe you still do those awful accents”

“ Yeah well, I get paid to do them now”

“What did you like start working at SNL or something, like you dreamed of doing as a kid” Eddie says laughing

“Actually yeah, that’s how I got my injury. We were practicing a skit and someone used real glass instead of sugar glass. A real great first week”

“ Wow that’s incredible...I think we have a lot of catching up to do. I'm all done by the way.” Eddie said as he took his hand away from Richie’s cheek

Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand and squeezed it softly.

In that moment they knew that everything was going to be okay. 

*SORRY THE ENDING SUCKED AGAIN I CANT FINISH STORIES FOR SHIT OKAY THANKS BYE*

**i also researched way too much for this fic lol**

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter One

A/N: Okay so I’ve literally had this in my drafts for the last...six months or so? And I figured I’d tweak it and edit and post it since I’ve been so AWOL on this site lately, and so that I can give you guys some new content from me.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy cursing. This chapter is pretty PG, talks of mental illness, unexpected pregnancy and contemplating abortion- but she doesnt go through with it. Smut to come. AND LOTS OF FLUFF TOO, I promise lol

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story 

Chapter 1/6: The Baby Woe’s and Oh No’s

You knew it.

You’d known something was off, different, changed.

You sit on your toilet, your world spinning as you attempt to wrap your mind around what was going on. Everything seems sludge like, too slow and too fast and not real.

You’re definitely going into shock, you point out to yourself. The catatonic kind. You’ve been staring at the bright, sunny lemon print of the shower curtain, your eyes focused but not seeing. Your elbows rest on your knees and your hands cover the entirety of your lower face.

At least you’re not crying anymore. 

Nope, your body had moved past that-Maybe, it felt like the tears could start rolling again at anytime.

Oh god, what are you going to do?

Why, why, why?

Why you? You’d been a good person- well a decent person at least… You recycled and tipped more than twenty percent. Didnt vote for Trump and ate your vegetables.

And your life was just seeming to even out. You’d somehow landed your dream job a couple months back- every Wednesday night your voice could be heard on WNEX. You we’re making enough money to finally be comfortable- doing what you loved. Gaining a wide audience and wiggling your way into the industry. Your mind was so career oriented, so focused on your end goal that you’d never even considered something like this.

Throwing a big fat wrench in the gears.

One night, it had only been one stupid, drunken night. Hadn't you racked up enough karma coins to cover your ass for one fucking night?

Are you there god? It’s me, Y/N, and I really fucked up this time.

Wanda comes back into the tiled room a few minutes, her dark features soft and a colorful mug in her hand.

“Are you okay?” She gauges, gently, as she reaches out to you.

You snort and shrug, but accept the steaming cup from her anyway. You look down at the swirling, murky drink.

Wishing for just one moment that you could drown yourself in it.

“Look, babe, I know you’re dealing with some major shock right now- but maybe you should go lay down. We’ll figure it out later-” Wanda’s voice is even and you appreciate her being so calm and sure during all of this but you just can't process the situation enough to accept it.

You can't go lay down.

“Why not?” Wanda questions and you didn't realize you’d said that out loud, you hadn't even felt your mouth form the words.

Your head really is swimming. Disconnected from your body a little bit. You force yourself to take a drink of the tea as she gives you a more pointed look.

“Because I have to- I don't know. I have to figure all this out” You protest. You can't hear your voice, how spiked with anxiousness it is.

“There’s not much to figure out” Wanda supplies, unhelpfully as she leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest and you give her a look that’s half between a glare and a gape.

“Um, what the fuck do you mean? There’s so much to figure out, I don't even know where to start” You give a short, sharp, slightly hysterical laugh gripping the mug hard enough to hurt with one hand while cupping your forehead with the other.

“Okay, first things first. And this is the big one: do you want this?”

Well, that whole ‘I'm done crying’ thought you’d had before was a lie. You feel the tears well up once more and overflow, spill down your already swollen cheeks. Your face is hot. Your tummy is full of rocks.

You’d always hated crying. It never made you feel released or freed or lighter like it did for other people. It made you feel icky and stupid. And afterwards it always felt like you’d gotten punched in the nose.

Yes, you did have a therapist to work out those issues with, thanks.

Your mind doesn't know what to do with that question.

You look at Wanda, searching her face as though she might have the answers but she just shook her head and reached out her hand to rub your shoulder. That’s all she could offer. Her support in whatever path you we’re about to embark on.

And then you look down, at the countertop. That was usually littered with stray tubes of mascara or straightening irons. Bobby pins and half lit candles. All the things that resided in the bathrooms of girls in their mid twenties.

In place of those was now four pregnancy tests. All of which read positive.

The first two had been those double lined ones. Two bold lines- both times. Then you’d ran down to the bodega at the end of the block and gotten two more. And those we’re more straight to the point. They literally read the word pregnant- in a font that you don't think you’d ever forget.

Did you want this? Did you want a baby?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I dont know- I’m not ready. The timing is all wrong” You croak.

“Okay” Wanda coo’s “well there's alternatives then-” you squeeze your eyes closed at that thought “Either way we should make a doctors appointment to make sure you’re actually pregnant. I’ve read so many stories about how unreliable these things are”

She holds up one of the tests and rambles on about all of the online articles she’d come across. How some woman had taken a dozen of ‘em, gotten all positive results and then went in and had an empty uterus.

“For one, ew. I peed on that” You nod your head at the test in her hand and she rolls her eyes.

“Other side of it- and I held your hair when you got food poisoning from that shrimp shack. I’ve come into contact with worse body fluids of yours”

“For two- I’m pregnant. I know it. I’ve known it for weeks. I knew something was wrong and I just tried to...think it away, you know? Out of sight, out of mind? I sound insane” saying the words out loud makes you realize how...ludicrous those thoughts had been. But still. It was the truth.

She just nods though “You don't”

There’s a moment of silence. Stretching, as you stew in your reality.

“I’d be doing it alone” you whisper into the mug as you sip on it “I really dont think he’d want a baby”

“You would never be alone, you know that. You have so many people in your life that would support you with this” Wanda protests, sad that you’d even say that.

“You know what I mean” You push on. Because having a good group of friends and family wouldn't change the fact that you were possibly looking at the possibility of being a single mother.

If you decided to keep it, that is.

“Yeah I do- and I don't know if I agree with that. Bucky's a lot of things, an arrogant asshole at that top of that list, but he’s a good guy and I think he’d want to be involved. He doesn't give off deadbeat dad vibes”

All of that was true. Bucky is a good guy, at the core of him.

He was kind and decent and the two of you had been friends for years upon years. He was charming, magnetic and women loved him- you’d found it amusing, before you we’re the one in his bed after a drunken night a month ago.

He’d left your messages mostly on seen since then. You’d only sent a few, but still that had stung. Him icing you out the moment he’d gotten into your pants pissed you off, not only because it was rude but because it was expected.

You knew how Bucky was with women, it had been such an idiot move to sleep with him.

It made it all the more complicated that you ran in the same social circles- had all the same friends. Sam’s small promotion dinner a couple weeks ago had been extremely awkward for you, to say the least.

He’d earned himself the cold shoulder from you and no matter how many times he’d try to broach a conversation with you, crack a joke in your direction, or single you out in a group conversation you pretended he didn't exist.

“Damn, re-jec-ted” It had been so obvious that Clint had of course pointed it out, which was uncomfortable but expected because Clint had no filter like that.

Bucky had stopped trying after that- and started flirting back with the waitress that had been throwing herself at him throughout the night. You cut out early, claiming tiredness. And upset stomach. Whatever to get you out of there.

To say it was a shitty night was a bit of an understatement and you hadn't spoken one word to him since.

“I haven't talked to him since that night- and now I’m what, supposed to call him up and tell him I’m carrying his child because he doesn't properly know how to operate a condom?

“I don't know, yeah? It doesn't mean you two need to get married, but if you choose to keep this baby, that’s going to be a conversation you’re going to have to have” Wanda is so annoying sometimes. She was such a sharp thinking human- always grounded and level headed. She claimed it was from always having to be the “good twin” growing up.

Of course she was rationalizing this whole thing while you we’re floundering about it like a fish.

“I think I should make a doctors appointment” You just mutter. You’d rather focus your attention there. It was easier, cleaner for you. A goal you could actually accomplish.

And so that’s what you did.

//////

They were able to get you in at the end of the week, which in overpopulated New York City was a godsend. And still, it felt like far too long. Like the reality of it couldn't sink in until you talked to a medical professional so you we’re left in some kind of fucked up long until then.

You tried to keep your anxious mind busy, throwing yourself into work. Talking to people over the static airways of the radio about their lives; about the world and all of its workings was so much easier than talking to anyone about what was going on with you.

The only person who knew was Wanda and you’d canceled all of your other plans during the week, not able to face anyone. Not yet.

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. Thinking until your brain physically hurt.

And then you’d turned to you journal- maybe if you wrote everything down it would make sense. If you could see it all, inked out, you could make a decision.

Did you want this child?

Wanda had suggested making a pro’s and con’s list and while it sounded crazy and unhelpful, and you rolled your eyes at it ‘As though that will help’, you ended up doing it anyways.

You start with Cons, naturally. Always had been too damn negative.

Cons:

-I have no fucking idea how to be a mom

-Bucky???

-My job. My career. Who’s going to watch the baby while I work?

-How in the fuck am I going to financially support a baby.

-No room in the apartment/My room is fucking tiny and where will we put a baby

(Wanda said we can turn half of the living room into a playroom/makeshift nursery. How fucked up though? Not even a real nursery)

-No car? A baby on the subway? No thank you.

-Weird to explain to people even if Bucky wants to co-parent. All our friends??

-PAIN

-Pregnancy looks so painful. Birth looks scary. My poor vagine.

-Life is basically over

-The baby will not have a grandmother from your side...

You could keep going on, but you decide to stop there. You could go on, make the list pages and pages long but you decide against it.

Pros:

-I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Always dreamed of babies and motherhood, baby fever crashes over me in waves.

-Me and Bucky’s baby is going to be cute AF(and that just pure facts)

-I have a great support system- amazing friends and family who I know will help

-Bucky could want to be involved. He probably will...maybe?

-He has a big family, i think. The baby would have lots of family

-I don't want to have an abortion. All about pro-choice, but I just...don't know if I can.

That had made you bite the end of your pen.

Adoption?

Could you give a child that you went through nine months of pregnancy up for adoption? Knowing yourself- probably not. You cant even get rid of the moth hole ridden clothes at the back of your closet. Not comparing a baby to a jean jacket- fuck, see how unequipped you were for this?

-I’d be a good mom(I think)

-I could swing it financially. Maybe get a second job

-At least I have a good insurance plan now

-My life might have more of a purpose?

You hide the lists away in one of your many journals. Stick it in the wicker basket under your night stand- and revisit it too many times in those days between.

You make a lot of other lists in that time, too. 

//////

One of them sits tucked in your purse as you make your way to the eighth floor- Arms folded across your chest and the inside of your bottom lip speared between your teeth as the elevator takes you up.

Wanda stands beside you, of course. Sipping on her iced americano. You’d tried to tell her that she didn't need to come, that you were perfectly okay with going on your own. You’d gotten about two words out before she shut you down-

“I already took the afternoon off, don't be ridiculous”

You both know you wouldn't admit it, stubborn as you we’re, but you’d let out a big sigh of relief. You really didn't want to do this alone.

The waiting room is standard for this building, looks similar to the one that you sit in when you see your GP- save for a sign hanging about the door that labels it the OB-GYN.

Fake plants and those standard waiting room chairs that had that weird diagonal print on them TV’s that we’re playing the local news and tables stacked with months dated magazines. There was no windows though and it made the back of your neck feel hot.

The receptionists is nice. Middle aged with mild with droning, mellow voice. She checks you in fast and efficiently and tells you that you’ve got about a 15 minute wait on your hands.

Annoying, you think even though you give her a big grin and a sweet ‘thank you’. You’d been right on time. Why in all offices of all kinds is there always a fucking wait?

Wanda has plopped down on a chair in the corner and is fingering through an issue of LIFE, her long legs crossed at the knee. you sit next to her. The office air conditioner is blasting, it had been a muggy May in the city, but you feel overheated. You let the chunky cardigan you’d donned slip down one shoulder, exposing your skin to the chilly air.

You should feel the cold but you’re over heated. Nervous as hell. Why doesnt anyone else in this office seem nervous?

You tend to people watch when you get overly anxious like you are now. Tend to take in every little detail of every little thing around you.

There’s a black couple- the woman doesn't look pregnant but they’re holding hands tightly and they keep whispering to each other. He smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. Then there’s a Latina woman who looks just about ready to pop and is reading one of the kids book to a little boy with her eyes. A white lady, with twin carriers rocks them gently as she chats with a woman who looked to be related to her, maybe. Older and graying.

You feel like a creep but you can't stop looking at them all. Staring at each of the people who are at different stages of the same  life-path you found yourself on.

Wanda clicks her tongue as her dark eyes focus on the magazine. Muttering, her accent thick, about how the lenses they used for the shoot on the page was all wrong.

Her photographers eye was snobby and elitist.

“Y/N?” The nurse calls you back, not butchering your name which is nice and look over at your best friend.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you?” Wanda whispers, big gingerbread eyes searching yours and you shake your head quickly.

You had to do this, on your own. What if...what if you ended up having to do this whole thing alone? You had to be grown, had to face this solo. That’s just how you felt, even if it might not be true.

“It’s just another appointment- I can do it on my own. I’ll live” there's a reasoning lilt in your voice that she doesn't quite buy but she nods all the same. Tells you that she’ll be waiting right there for you as you muster up all your courage and train your face into a smile, following the nurse into the back offices, the door mechanically closing behind the two of you.

The OB’s office is...warmer then you’d thought it would be. Her desk has frames of all types and her walls are plastered with colorful posters, making the alabaster of the wallpaper less daunting. There was even a window in here.

You’re perched up on the exam table/ chair thingy, staring out at the tall buildings across the street, at the people moving fast below on the sidewalks. You wonder what all of them are doing? How many of the have kids?...

When there’s a soft knock at the door your attention snaps back to the present.

Doctor Helen Cho is a petite Asian woman. She has glossy dark hair that's tied up in a clip high on the  back of her head, and her voice is friendly and her expression open as introduces herself to you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, too” You sound so much surer and more confident then you feel. It had always been your party trick- meeting new people and being able to talk to them. Leaving trails of barley there acquaintances in your wake.

“So it says here that you think you’re pregnant, yes?” She gets right to it, and your appreciative for it.

“Yeah, I know I am.  I took four tests and they all came out positive and I...I feel really off” you try to explain it, poorly but she seems to understand.

“When you say off, do you mean like bad feeling off or?” She probes as she sits at her desk, swivels her chair to face you. Her chocolate almond eyes weren't piercing or clinical, just waiting.

“Not really bad? But I’ve just been so tired lately and I’ve had like, zero appetite. And my breasts have been so sensitive that it hurts to put on a bra” as you tell here these things you could slap your head for not assuming you were pregnant before you’d taken the tests.

Dr. Cho hums and nods as she looks over her tablet “Well from the look of these results from those blood and urine tests your nurse went ahead and gave you when you came in, I can tell you that you are definitely about nine weeks pregnant- so those symptoms are right on with where you are”

You inhale and exhale, bigly. It’s real. It’s been real, was a notion, a happening but now...it’s so freaking real.

And there's a real life changing decision to be made-

That you’d already made before you’d even walked into this office but now seemed even clearer. Crystal, in that moment of clarity.

“I want to keep it” Your confident as you say it. Your voice cracks with some kind of emotion you couldn't even begin to explain, but you’re confident. You’re sure.

Dr. Cho grins at you, and stands, congratulating you then, after she’s sure you even want a congratulations. You like her, think you might.

It’s hard to focus on her voice though because all your mind can think of is the next big obstacle, the next big step in all of this.

How were you going to tell Bucky?

Okay guys? I posted? Crazy right? lol give me some feedback! Comment and tell me what you thought of this. I absolutely love interacting with you guys, but I’m sure ya’ll know that. 

Also- the taglist for this story is still OPEN, so if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters just ask!

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @brieannakeogh @gifsbysimplysonia @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si 

[crescentdream24]

Chance Encounters

Fandom: Star Trek Alternate Original Series

Word Count: 7k

Pairing: Dr. Mccoy x Reader.

Prompt: Literally just a random little fluff piece. How reader and Dr. Mccoy meet and get together aboard the Enterprise

Rating: T+

Warning(s): mild injuries, nothing major

Chance Encounters

You fell in love with the Enterprise the minute you stepped foot aboard her with the rest of the new recruits. The sleek lines of the ship were breathtaking as it was from the outside, but on the inside it was even more than you could have ever imagined. The bowels of the ship literally hummed with life—instruments gleaming and the crew bustling about in a way that resembled some sort of uniform chaos. For everything going on through every ship deck, it all had a purpose, everyone had a duty to perform. And now you were there to carry out a duty of your own.

The first few weeks were the hardest, as you’d expected. Everything was new and very real---no more simulations like you were used to back at the learning academy. It felt like you were introduced to a hundred new faces with a hundred new names in a matter of hours, and you were terrible with names. You were given a quick ship’s tour that glossed over many important areas which left you scrambling to find your own personal quarters at the end of the day. The food on board was hit or miss--- the food replicator could only do so much, and its version of chicken noodle soup left much to be desired.

But you quickly found solace in your work, living out most of your hours in one of the many laboratories aboard the ship. You delighted in wearing your science- blue uniform, and felt a sort of humble pride bubble up within you for all you had accomplished.

Even more exciting than finally being on the Enterprise in person, was the fact that you were now working on the Enterprise. You got to dive head-first into categorizing all the fresh samples of flora and fauna sent down to your lab from various away missions, testing soil samples and blasting open several rocks with a high-powered laser. Everyone you worked with was just as enthusiastic about their work as you were, and you made many fast friends with the crewmates that you shared your shifts with.

A few months into your first year on the ship, you made your way down to the science lab you were scheduled for that evening, trying to stifle back a yawn half- heartedly as you strode down the deserted hallway. Evening shifts were your least favorite. You’d always considered yourself a night owl back on Earth, but these last few months in space had been proving you wrong. You thought it was funny that even though there was no natural sunlight to queue your brain into when it was morning or night, it still took its cues from the brightness of the interior ship lighting, which dimmed noticeably in the evening hours to help keep the appearance of a day and night cycle.

Rounding the corner, you stood in front of the entrance to the science lab, pausing for a few seconds to punch in your keycode and letting the doors pull back automatically to admit you. You entered and stood there a moment, taking in the sight of the lab, the polished instruments glimmering under the overhead lights like jewels. You would never tire of working here, not in a million years.

You nodded your hello to the only other crewmate in the lab, a slim brunette about your age whom you’ve worked with a few times before. Her name was Rochelle, and she was timid but quite clever once you got talking to her. It was a person you didn’t mind having on the night shift with you----you weren’t especially talkative in the evenings, anyway.

Making your way over to the far wall of the lab, you awakened the touch screen panel that was mounted to it, calling up your shift schedule for the next week. It was the duty of each crewmate to double-check their work assignments for the following week in case there were any errors. Your eyes took in the schedule, expecting it to show you stationed at your regular post here in the lab as usual, and you were----except for one day in the middle. Away mission.

Your eyes widened as you re-read it. Away mission? But the captain of a starship usually didn’t bring anyone planet-side until at least their second year of active duty if they could help it. A ball of tangled nerves settles in your stomach, and you turn away from the screen, looking out into the lab but not fully registering it.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Rochelle is looking up at you from her microscope, sensing your mood change.

“Oh....yeah. I just, uhm. I saw that I'm slated for an away mission next week.” You swallow down some bitter saliva, trying to wrap your head around it.

Rochelle puts down the glass slide she was inspecting and nods in understanding. “I heard Mr. Spock discussing it in the hallway briefly when I passed by him and the Captain yesterday. They decided to choose you because of your past history with the planet.....I think it’s called Vater Epsilon V?”

Your heart begins to pound as the pieces finally fall together in your head. Your father had done considerable mining on the planet for several years and you had accompanied him in your youth. The trip was actually what you credit for sparking your interest in intergalactic space travel as a career path. It had been a wonderful trip that you look back on fondly; so many new things to experience. It hadn’t been without its danger though---most of the vegetation on the planet was extremely poisonous to humans if ingested or even with contact to the skin for a short period of time. You and your father had been in the mines for most of the trip, so there had been little danger. But, the locals have given you both a detailed tour of the area and you had read up on the planet even more on your return home. You assume your expertise of the planet is the reason you were being chosen. But it didn’t do anything to calm your racing heart.

“Right, that must be it. I’ve been there before, actually.”

Rochelle’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Really? That’s so exciting.” You make your way over to the station beside her, washing your hands and donning your work goggles, trying to put your nerves behind you. You tell Rochelle all about your trip as you remember it, and you two work away the hours quickly until your shift is almost over.

“Wow, I can’t believe we’re almost done for the night.” Rochelle says as she checks the time read-out on the console beside her. “It hasn’t even felt like.......” Her voice trails off and you look up at her, seeing that her skin is now startlingly pale.

“Rochelle?” She doesn’t answer you and wobbles unsteadily. Your instincts take over and you spring into action, taking a large step towards her as her knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, steadily guiding her to the floor with your arms as she faints. You remember your training about falling with the person that’s fainting instead of trying to catch them. Guiding them to the floor instead of trying to stop the fall altogether and potentially hurting you both.

You lay her on her back, and her head lolls to the side, eyes closed. Trying to shake her awake gently yields no response. You shout her name as your fingers urgently such for a pulse against her neck, finally covering over one of her carotid arteries. The pulse beat feels steady underneath your fingertips, and you relax slightly although not enough to calm your own frantic heartbeat, backing away towards the comm unit on the wall to hail a medical team to come assist you.

They arrive a few moments later with a stretcher in tow, and you recount what happened to one of the nurses on the team as they carefully load Rochelle and carry her to the sick bay. You follow them, not wanting to leave your friend when she’s in such distress.

The bright lights of the medical bay are startling contrast to the dim light of the hall, and you blink a few times as your eyes re-adjust. The bay is mostly empty, rows of beds lining one wall off to your left with larger cubicles surrounded by privacy curtains on the other side. The medical team transfers Rochelle to a med bed and you stand back to give them room as they work, quickly hooking her up to the vital signs monitor mounted overhead. The sound of her steady heartbeat fills the room as the team clears away, leaving only a nurse to attend to her for the moment.

“What’s going on out here, Nurse?” A rough voice breaks through the relative silence of the sickbay and you turn your head to see a dark-haired man stride into the room to stand at Rochelle’s bedside, ignoring you altogether. He’s clad in medical blues and his eyes are already assessing her, retrieving more information in one quick glance than the nurse would ever be able to tell him. The nurse gives him a run-down on her vitals----all normal except for the blood sugar levels.

He runs a quick scan with his handheld tricorder, hovering it just above Rochelle’s body in a slow, steady motion. His eyes are intent and laser-focused, and you sense he’s taking in every minute detail of her condition in a way only achieved by years of experience. You listen to the low beeps of the tricorder and swallow, wanting to add something to the conversation but feeling strangely intimidated at the moment.

“I...I was working with her when she fainted,” you start as the doctor continues scanning. “I noticed she’s wearing a medical bracelet. I believe she’s a diabetic.”

The doctor’s eyes flicked up at you then, and you’re startled by them. You’ve seen hundreds of people with dark eyes like his before, but none of them had ever seemed so....brilliant.

“Did she hit her head when she fell?” He asks you as he sets down the tricorder, walking over to a medicine cabinet a few feet away as the nurse prepares a hypo needle.

“No, I got to her in enough time to ease her fall. And her pulse seemed steady when I checked for it. She just wasn’t responsive.”

He grabs a vial out of the cabinet, handing it to the nurse as he turns to face you again. “Are you medically trained?” He asks offhandedly, raising an eyebrow. You swallow again, wondering if you did something wrong. Shifting on your feet you shake your head. “No, just the basic Starfleet training.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you as he makes his way back to Rochelle and the nurse passes him the hypo, injecting it swiftly into her upper arm. You watch with worry in your stomach, hoping that her condition would be easily remedied. Diabetes nowadays was easily controlled with a simple daily pill and a strict diet, but you had read during your studies at the Academy about how serious a condition it had been in the past. People used to need constant insulin injections and daily blood tests centuries ago to remain stable. It still wasn’t anything to mess with today, either.

The nurse leaves to tend to the other few patients in the medical bay, and the doctor finally looks up at you again, his hard expression softening somewhat. “You did great. She is diabetic, her sugars were just out of wack there. That hypo should set her right again, but she’ll probably sleep for a few hours now.”

“So, she’s going to be okay?” you add hopefully.

“Most definitely.” He had a pleasant Southern twang to his voice, one that inexplicably put you at ease. “You did exactly the right thing.” He went to leave but paused, turning back on his heel. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh,” you put a hand on the bedrail in front of you. “It’s Y/N.” You inspect the insignia on his blue medical uniform. “And I’m assuming you’re the CMO?”

He flashes a tight-lipped grin, only for a moment. “Unless there’s someone else here claiming to be chief medical officer. If there is, you send ‘em to me. Name’s Mccoy.”

Your mouth twists up into a smile as he continues. “I better get back. No rest for the weary.” He nods his head towards you once, looking down to pick up the tricorder and inclining it towards Rochelle. “And your friend there is damn lucky you were workin with her tonight.” He adds as he leaves, making his way into one of the exam rooms on the other side of the med bay. You realize you’re still smiling awhile after he’s gone, and you shake your head abruptly. Time for bed.

OOOOOO

You quickly slung the slim utility belt across your hips as you stood just outside the transporter room, preparing for the away mission you were about to embark on in a few minutes. Mentally, your brain did one last run-through of checklist-- your phaser was set to stun, you had all your scientific supplies safely tucked away along with your scientific recorder, and you had brushed up on your knowledge of the planet in the days prior so you would feel prepared. You’d checked all the boxes and anticipated every scenario. So why were you standing there shaking like a leaf?

Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady yourself, you finally bite the bullet and step into the transporter room, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock already standing on their respective transporter pads. You give a quick nod to both of them. “Captain. Commander.” Spock returns your nod.

“Ensign Y/N.” The captain regards you carefully. “I’m betting your knowledge of this planet will come in handy. Initially, it was supposed to be a quick stop for some supplies from the mines, but there’s a group of villagers that have come down with what looks to be Andronesian encephalitis that we need to check out first.” He flips on his communicator, testing its signal strength. “And Starfleet would love to get its hands on some more information about what makes those poisonous plants so potent.”

You nod, trying to will away the unsettled fluttering in your stomach. “I’m quite familiar with the area we’ll be transporting to. I’ll try my best to collect some worthwhile environmental samples.” You step up to the transporter, standing just to the left of the captain and a security officer, who offers you a tight smile. You assume this is the entire landing party when you hear the doors open again in front of you. Dr. Mccoy rushes in, a look of annoyance clearly written across his face. You feel your heart skip unexpectedly.

“Do you really need me for every god-damned planet-side escapade, Jim?” He quickly slung his tricorder across his shoulder, hopping up on the transporter pad near the other side of the Captain.

“I believe the chief medical officer is a vital member of the landing party when the natives of such planet are afflicted with ailments they are otherwise unfamiliar with.” Spock’s statement of fact was met with an eyeroll from the doctor.

“It wouldn’t be any fun without you, Bones.” Kirk smirked, clearly enjoying the frustration of the CMO.

The transporter energized then, and you experience the familiar odd, fuzzy sensation spread throughout your body along with a split-second of darkness to your vision that always puts you on edge. Suddenly, you find yourself standing on a patch of grass in the middle of a heavily-treed area, feeling the sunlight pour in from the sky above and relishing in its warmth. You’ve missed being outside on solid ground.

“Could they have picked a deadlier place for us to beam in?” Mccoy looked around warily, and you immediately recognized his concern. On Earth, a place like this would be harmless, even sought-after. But here, most every tree and bush held some amount of venom, and your group would have to tread very carefully.

“Alright, crew.” Kirk began, completely ignoring Mccoy’s disdain. “Y/N will lead us through until we hit the village which should only be a half-hour walk to the east.” Kirk glances over at you from over his shoulder. “Ready?”

You press your lips together, taking in a big inhale. “Yes, sir.” Carefully, you step ahead of the group and slowly begin to pick your way through the trail flanked with dense foliage on either side, avoiding all contact with the more lethal plants. Your mind is honed in on the path in front of you, eyes taking in every new area of greenery you encounter and analyzing their respective dangers in your head. Soon, you make it to another clearing and the group decides to take a short break to cool off from the mid-morning heat.

You take a small handheld recording device off your belt and decide that this would be a good time to try and collect a few environmental samples to analyze later. As you cautiously kneel down next to a gathering of particularly lethal shrubs, a shadow falls over you and you tilt your head up, seeing Dr. Mccoy duplicate your posture beside you.

“I guess saving your co-workers on nightshift isn’t the only thing on your resume.” His lips cock up to one side as he regards the plants in front of you warily.

You give a light chuckle as you slowly pass the recorder over top a thick violet-colored shrub. “Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an everyday thing. I’m trained in the sciences, not medicine. Although I do have an interest in it. My mother was a nurse.” A question suddenly pops into your head and you blurt it out. “What made you get into medicine??”

He snorted, resting a hand on his knee. “I guess certain people would say it was a “calling.” After you see the world kick people down enough times, a part of you gets fed up and wants to help.” You take in his answer as you quickly skim over the readout on your recorder. His character was so gruff and off-putting on the outside, but you sensed that his inner workings held a deep sense of duty and rigid moral character that you wanted to learn more about. You’d been told in the past that you were a good judge of character, and you had a nagging suspicion that this doctor held one as solid as any other.

“Hm, so that explains the doctor part.” You shift slightly, reaching out to hover the recorder over a small outcropping of rock. “What about the Starfleet part?”

He smirked again. “I feel like I’m in a courtroom here with all this questioning. Anyone ever tell you you’d make a damn good detective?”

“I’m just curious, is all,”you intone innocently.

“Well, I’d about had it with being on Earth. Living in space seemed new and exciting. Don’t really have much tying me to the ground, I figured I might as well be tending to aliens and saving Kirk and Spock from themselves. That’s practically a full-time job right there.”

You laugh out loud and your eyes meet, briefly pulling your mind away from your work. “You must have the patience of a jungle cat to deal with that every day.”

You start to feel a tickle on your hand and look down, seeing some sort of insect crawling across your knuckles, about the size of a horsefly. You recognize it as a pill beetle, nothing to be too alarmed about, although you remember from your research that it does pack quite a painful bite. You slowly shake your hand up and down, hoping to shoo it away. Your grasp on your recorder slips, and on instinct you try to catch it. The sudden movement startles the beetle and a strong pinch drills into the top of your hand.

“Ugh!” You drop the recorder in the bushes as the beetle flees into the sky, feeling the sting of the bite quickly grow in intensity. You sink onto both knees, holding your injured hand as a few drops of blood escape between your fingers.

Dr. Mccoy reaches out for your hand instantly, pulling it towards him to inspect. “What was that? Do you know what bit you?”

“Yesss...it was a---” You suck in your breath as the sting of the bite rises exponentially with each passing second. The literature you read about this bite greatly underestimated its intensity. “It’s a pill beetle.....it’s not....lethal.” You hiss through your teeth, trying to keep your composure but the pain is racing through you like fire along a tightrope.

Mccoy gently turns your hand over in his grasp and bends over to the side, quickly flipping open his small medi-kit and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe. The sting of the alcohol amplifies your pain and you feel tears spring up, gritting your teeth and cursing your stupidity. You were supposed to be the expert around here, and in your first ever away mission you managed to get bitten by a worthless beetle that now had you almost sobbing on the ground.

“I know, it hurts, I know,” he tries to soothe you as he applies a slim medicated bandage across the bite. “This is infused with a numbing agent, it should help with the pain a little bit. Just give it a second to work.” He presses his thumb on top of the bandage, then slowly rubs it back and forth with light pressure, trying to aide the release of the medication from the bandage.

You try to hold it together, but the fire in your veins is only ramping up and you feel a sweat coming on, wondering if the beetle had injected some sort of venom along with its bite. “I---ughhh! This isn’t going away.” You bow your head and try to focus on something else, anything else. He draws your other hand into his and grips it tightly, trying to draw your focus away from the burning sensation of your wound and you bite your lip.

“I know it hurts, darlin’. You’ll be okay.” The drawl of his voice calms you slightly as he grabs out a small travel hypo, hurriedly loading it with a clear liquid. “Here, give me your arm.” You slide closer to him and he injects you with it so swiftly you’re barely even aware of the pinch. You instantly notice the drug kick in as it works to dull the sharpness of the pain. Slowly, your body relaxes until the burning fire is nothing more than a dull throbbing. Still quite noticeable, but much improved.

You let out a big sigh of relief and look up at him with gratitude as the tension begins to leave your body. “Thank you....so much. That was...unpleasant.”

He gives you a soft smile. “All in a day’s work. You let me know if it starts to feel any worse, alright?” He still has your hand in his grasp, and you stay in that position for a few moments longer, letting the relief flow through your veins like cold water on a hot summer’s day. The warmth of his thumb radiates into the top of your hand as it continues to firmly trace over the bandage. You watch as he strokes your hand, marveling at how someone so rough around the edges could be so gentle. You would willingly stay like this for a few hours but soon you reluctantly pull your hand away, nodding at his instruction wordlessly.

You both stand together to go meet up with the others, and you have a hunch that the medication isn’t altogether responsible for your sudden good mood.

OOOOOOO

The long streams of distorted starlight streak across the blackness of space as you idly watch from a small circular viewing port, worshipping the sight of the ship in warp drive. It always amazed you that you and all the other crew aboard felt exactly the same no matter how fast the Enterprise travelled, and could only begin to imagine what the crew of the first ship to enter warp would have felt. Enraptured? Terrified? Probably a mix of both.

The cozy seating area off the mess hall was empty, as it usually was at this late hour. You had found this little haven tucked away from it all a few weeks into your first month of duty, and ever since you sought it out quite often, especially when you felt particularly reflective as you did now.

With your arms crossed lightly, you leaned a shoulder against the space-grade glass of the viewport, looking out into the stars that were especially illuminated tonight in the dim interior lighting of the ship. Your mind wandered, thinking of your family and wondering how everyone back home was doing—there were quite a few friends you had left behind, but only a few you actually missed. You would give anything for one of your father’s hugs or a bite of your mom’s homemade casserole right about now.

“I see you’ve found one of the hidden gems of the ship.” A male voice breaks the silence behind you and you turn to face the dark brooding eyes of the doctor. You sense your pulse excite as if on cue, giving him a slightly startled look.

“Oh, I didn’t.....yeah, well. S--sometimes I come here...just to think and look out at the stars.” You stutter as you lean against the wall again, facing him this time. He comes nearer to the viewing port, looking out into the abyss of starlight. He’s quiet for a moment, as if marveling at the wonders of space himself.

“No matter how many times you look at it, it never gets any less breathtaking.” His eyes flick over to you then, and you feel a slight flush wash over you, as if his words are meant for you and you alone. He always had a way of making everything sound so intimate, with that warm southern drawl.

You clear your throat softly, trying to dispel some of the butterflies in your stomach. "It's easy to forget where we are, easy to get caught up with other things while we’re busy working. So, I like to come here to remind myself.” You turn your head to look out again, sliding a bit closer to his side. He nods at your comment and you both stand in silence for a moment as you take in the view from the viewport, relishing in a shared appreciation for where you both are.

“Hurtling through space in nothing more than a tin can,” he says with his voice low, almost to himself. Finally, he looks down at you. “How’s that hand treatin’ you?”

Before you can answer, he reaches out and takes your hand gently, pulling it toward him to examine as he runs a thumb over the ridge of raised skin where the small scab has formed over the imprint of the insect bite.

“It’s good. Finally starting to heal.” Your mouth goes dry at his touch and you swallow as your pulse races to life again. It has a funny little habit of developing a mind of its own whenever you and the doctor are alone like this. You can feel the tremor of your heart’s increased pace against your ribcage, as if fighting to break free.

You expect him to let go of your hand but he continues to drag his thumb back and forth across it and you perceive yourself inching closer to him—almost unconsciously, drawn in by the gentleness and warmth of his touch.

His hazel eyes flick from your mending wound back up to your face, holding your stare intently. “You know, space is a pretty dangerous place,” he utters slowly. “I better keep my eye on you.”

You suck in a small breath, sensing your heart about to ram itself clear across the room. “I’d like that.”

His other hand lightly presses to the small of your back and you step in closer to him, tilting your head up as he bends down slightly to meet you. You feel your eyes begin to flutter closed as you place a hand on his chest, and the drumming of your heart in your ears so loud you’re almost certain he can hear it.

The piercing wail of the klaxon suddenly screeches out through the halls of the ship, and the bright red alert lights flash to life. You open your eyes abruptly and Mccoy drops your hand.

“Damn,” he curses softly as your face falls in disappointment, your other hand dropping away from his chest. The red flashes of the alert bounce across his uniform and a few crewmen quickly dash past you both.

“Go.” You urge him, fighting against the strong desire to stay exactly where you are together for the full entirety of the alert. “Be safe,” you manage to add, trying to fight down a wave of uneasiness.

You go to turn away and make a run for your emergency posting, but his grip at your arm stops you, facing you back to him.

“We’ll finish this....later.” His voice is full of meaning and promise, and you feel your heart skip yet again as you afford him a soft smile of hope in return. You sense the grip he has on your arm gradually slip away and both of you reluctantly turn in opposite directions to answer the insistent wailing of the klaxon.

You dash down the hallway, careful to avoid colliding with other crewmates as everyone rushes to their posts as orderly as possible. You had to respond to a red alert only one other time before, and it hadn’t lasted very long. It had been scary at first, the sheer suddenness of it, but after the initial shock and boost of adrenaline faded away, everything had kind of calmed down, and you expected it to go that way again. Captain Kirk was one of the best captains in all of Starfleet, and you had complete and utter faith in him.

Racing around a corner, you make your way toward the other side of the ship, trying to calm yourself a bit in the process. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary yet, but you can’t quite shake the imposing heaviness of dread that was now settling in your stomach. You silently will your feet to keep up their pace as you pass a few more crewmen heading for the turbolift behind you, both in security red. Are they going to the bridge? Maybe something’s happening up there....

Without warning, the Enterprise forcefully pitches to one side and you tumble into the wall, jamming your shoulder harshly. The hum of the warp engines intensifies over the cry of the red alert as they work overtime to compensate, and the rattling of the hull echoes around you. You try and continue your way down the hall but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against the force of an unbalanced ship. After a few seconds, you feel everything begin to steady back out and slowly take a breath, not realizing you’ve been holding it in this entire time.

You pass through the end of the hallway into the open deck that runs overtop the engineering room, connecting to the rest of the ship deck farther down. It has waist-high railings on either side, and you can see the Enterprises’ inner workings in a glance as your race across the deck, hearing frantic voices shouting out orders from down below. Suddenly, the ship is pitched to the side again and your eyes widen in panic as you lose your footing and slide towards the railing. The drop from this deck would be several stories high, something you have absolutely no intention of experiencing. You see a few other crewmates scramble in front of you to keep their balance as you all slide for the railing, but fortunately everyone manages to brace themselves against it, including you. The overhead lights flicker a few times, and the engines roar in your ears as they’re brought up to their full potential.

The ship slowly begins to steady out once again, and you loosen your death- grip on the railing at your side, cautiously starting to make your way back to the middle of the deck.

A deafening crack echoes down through the hall behind you and the ship abruptly heaves. This time, you are un- prepared and you tumble back towards the railing full force, the right side of your ribcage making full-on contact with the unyielding metal as your body tries to bend in half around it. You gasp out in pain as both your hands shoot out to clamp down on the rail, stopping yourself from being tossed clear over to the other side and down into the engineering room. Another crew member isn’t so lucky and you hear his anguished scream as his body is flung off the steep drop of the deck.

You’re breathing in and out in raspy gasps, panic spreading through your veins as you try to keep your hold. Your ribcage is screaming out at you from the blow to the railing and you slowly sink down to your knees, trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of you before. You feel your legs quiver in your boots and you try to steady yourself once again, rationally reminding your brain that you have to perform your duty and get to your emergency post. The ship has steadied for the moment, but you don’t trust it this time, giving it a few more seconds before you dare to stand back up. You claw yourself across the railing, pulling yourself upright, and you realize you’re in one of the most dangerous places on the ship right now. As long as you make it to the end of the deck and back into the hallway, you’ll be in way better shape than you are now.

You decide to make a dash for it and run as fast as you can down the deck, trying to push the anguished scream of the crewman out of your head. Your ribs burn daggers through your uniform as you run, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fractured a few. An image of Dr. Mccoy flashes through your mind and you wipe it away as soon as it appears, not wanting to acknowledge your mounting fear for his safety.

The wail of the klaxon abruptly ceases, and the red flashing lights turn to ones of cautionary yellow. You halt your run as you enter the hallway, a huge sigh of relief escaping you as you lightly cover over your ribs with one hand, taking a moment to calm your breathing. We did it. We survived.

OOOOOOO

You had decided to wait until the night after the red alert to make your way up to medical, knowing that Mccoy and all the rest of the med staff would have their hands full of injured and critically wounded. The ship had come under a surprise attack and one of the upper decks had received some heavy damage, and there had been a few casualties. But you knew for certain that the CMO hadn’t been one of them, and for this you were relieved beyond words. As happy as you were that disaster had been averted, the nagging tenderness across the right side of your ribcage had only gotten worse as the day passed, and you could barely lift your arms above waist level while working your day shift at the lab. Now that your shift was over, you decided that it was time to seek out some proper medical attention.

You rode the turbolift up to medical, wincing as you reached out to indicate your desired floor on the touch panel. The doors slid open and you made your way gingerly into the brightly lit med bay, cupping a hand lightly across your ribs to help contain some of the discomfort. You saw that most of the med beds were currently occupied, with several nurses making their rounds, arms full of medical supplies. Some patients looked almost fit enough to jump up and walk out, while there were a few others with privacy curtains drawn carefully around their beds.

One of the nurses spotted you and immediately recognized the look of pain written across your features. She hurriedly guided you over to an examination room and drew the privacy curtain, sitting you down on the stiff exam table to give you a quick once-over. When she was satisfied that you weren’t in any immediate danger, she straightened up. “I’ll go get a doctor for you.”

You nod in thanks and she leaves, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind her. You wonder if you would be lucky enough to have Dr. Mccoy examine you, and feel a certain level of anxiety to think that it could be someone else. Sure, your mother had been a nurse, but that didn’t mean you were completely at ease when it came to your own medical visits. You were sure that all the doctors on the Enterprise were perfectly capable to handle your situation, but you knew none of them would do it with the care and understanding of the chief medical officer. You felt a small wave of panic swell in your gut and you swallowed it down, even though you could feel your nerves getting the best of you. Especially now, when your entire right side was throbbing incessantly, seemingly getting worse with each passing hour. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to fear there was more extensive internal damage than you first thought. You pressed your left hand overtop the area again, hissing out from in between your teeth.

“No, no. It’s alright, I’ll see to her. You go take a break.” You hear a muffled voice from behind the curtain, and suddenly it’s pulled back roughly, revealing hazel eyes dark with intensity as he immediately starts to size up your condition.

“Dr. Mccoy,” you breathe out in relief.

He cocks up an eyebrow at you as he walks into the room, readying the medical equipment on the table beside the exam bed you’re perched on top of.

“That’s Leonard to you.” The hint of a smile traces over your lips as he picks up his tricorder and begins to pass it across your body slowly, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders.

“What happened here?” he askes curtly, attention focused on the readout of the tricorder.

“I fell into a metal railing during that alert yesterday. Right on top of my ribs....it’s been hurting pretty bad ever since.” You drop your hand away from your ribcage, wincing again as you accidentally twist your torso a fraction.

Your pained expression doesn’t escape his notice and he puts down the tricorder, stepping close in front of you. “Why didn’t you come up sooner?” His tone is accusatory and your gaze points down toward the white tiles of the exam room floor guiltily.

“Well, I figured you’d be pretty busy....I didn’t want to make anymore work for you. It wasn’t urgent....”

He shakes his head, and takes a small amount of antibacterial soap into his palm, rubbing it briskly into his hands. “I don’t care if half the medical bay is going up in flames, you come here if you’re hurt, you hear me?” The look in his eyes is stern, agitated that you let yourself go without proper care, and your heart rate accelerates.

You nod your head and his expression softens. “I just don’t want you to do anymore damage, is all. Lord knows we’ve got enough injured as it is.” He stands in front of you again, looking you in the eyes, assessing your condition.

“I want to get a good look at it now, mind if I lift this up?” He motions to your uniform and you nod wordlessly, bracing yourself for the pain that will inevitably follow. Before he touches your uniform, he places a light hand on your knee. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise you.”

“I know.” You trust him completely, but still dread the thought of getting your ribs poked at.

He carefully rolls up the edge of your blue uniform, all the way up until it hits the underarm. You move your arm forward a bit so he can look around it, and you can see the large, swollen bruising feathered along your side in the reflection of the mirror beside you. It’s a deep purple with blue hues around the edges, and you could have sworn it wasn’t that big when you’d inspected it yesterday. You hear the doctor curse under his breath softly as he examines you.

“Really, darlin’. You waited much too long.” he gently scolds you as he hovers a hand just above the afflicted skin. “May I?”

You nod again, steeling yourself as he lightly places a hand over top of your ribs. He starts up high and you can tell he is applying gradual pressure with his fingers, trying to find any weakness in the bone. The pain is uncomfortable but bearable so far, and you lean in closer to him a bit as you close your eyes, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the throbbing. His chest is directly in front of you and you wish you could lean your head against it.

“How’s this?” he asks, starting to slowly move his hand down your ribcage one rib at a time. “Here?” “It’s okay,” you answer as you feel the pain starting to intensify again.

“Here?” His warm palm encircles your bruise, just above the very middle, his fingers playing at your side with measured pressure.

“Getting worse,” you mumble, wincing again. He moves down half an inch. "Here?”

“Ah!--” You bend forward and hiss out an exhale, your left hand darting up to hold onto the blue cloth of his uniform shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes as his fingers nimbly dart across the tender area. “Just a bit more.”

Your fist balls up the cloth of his shirt as you grit your teeth, the pain searing across your right side like a bolt of lightning. Just as quick, his hand is gone and tugs your uniform back into place, looking down at you but not moving away.

“Looks like you got a few fractured ribs there. It’ll be painful for a while so you gotta take it easy.” His eyes are warm and re-assuring, and you feel the fire of your ribcage receding back to more acceptable levels. “I’ll try to do what I can with the regenerator but unfortunately it doesn’t have the best success rate when it comes to ribs. The easiest way for them to heal is still the old-fashioned way. Get plenty of rest.....and a “light duty only” order.” He sees your face fall a bit at that, knowing that most everyone aboard hated having limitations to their work duties. “And I want you to come see me every few days so I can make sure everything is healin’ like it should.”

You perk up a bit at that, and realize that you’re still holding the fabric of his uniform sleeve hostage in your fist. “Oh...I’m sorry,” you say as you slowly let go. He places a hand gently to your waist on your un-injured side and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not.” Faster than you can think, his head dips low and his lips find yours in a light kiss. You sink into his hold like melted butter, placing a hand on his chest as you kiss him back tenderly. Your eyes close and you take in the smell of him---a unique mix of coffee, medical sanitizer, and just a hint of cologne. Its an odd mixture but fits him perfectly and you sigh into his lips which are still pressing into yours.

Eventually you pull away for want of breathing, and your eyes lock, a lop-sided grin spreading across his face as he looks down at you. “Now Y/N, you don’t have to keep getting hurt just to see me.”

You chuckle up at him, shaking your head. “You have some ego on you, you know that?”

He squeezes your hip once and steps back, purposely ignoring your last comment with a glint of humor dancing in his eyes. “I’ll go get you some painkillers.”

You’re sitting in a stupor as he leaves, your mind racing so fast it’s practically blank. He re-appears in seconds, injecting you with a hypo carefully and giving you a small bottle of pills. “Take one twice a day and you’ll be feeling a whole lot better.”

You curl your fingers around the pill bottle, looking up at him with gratitude and more affection than you’ve ever felt for anyone. “Thank you....Leonard.”

He holds out a hand to help you off the exam table and you step down gingerly, wincing again but already feeling the positive effects of the hypo flow through you. “Now, let’s go give the regenerator a whirl there, darlin’. It should help you out a bit.”

Before you both step out of the exam room, he turns back to you and you stop, looking up at him in puzzlement. A warm hand finds your cheek, fingers splayed out under your ear and he kisses you again, except much deeper than the first time. Your mind is nothing but the streaking stars of space at warp speed as you return the kiss eagerly, enjoying the closeness you’ve ached for ever since you first saw him. His lips are tender but firm, making his feelings known to you in a way that makes your body crave the taste of him even more. After a long moment, you both pull away slowly, his hand still at the side of your face.

“That’s what I wanted to do ever since that damn red alert finished my thought for me.”

You smile up at him and he takes your hand, pulling open the curtain for you and gently guiding you back out into the med bay.

END

Thanks for the read!

[mars-bar81]

Tagged by @hptruefan-cheekytorah

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2019. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Sorry, this became quite long! If anyone’s just looking for fics, I’ve bolded them to make them easier to see!

1.    A Week at the Humdinger

This was written for LCDrarry 2019, and I can’t tell you how much I love it. I’ve always loved the movie Pretty Woman, and this fest popped up on my radar a few months after I posted my drabble, A special client. The idea to continue it had already been floating around in my head for a few months, so I figured, why not? 

The world building on A Week at the Humdinger was very self-indulgent. Opulent hotels, fancy dinners, being able to buy out an entire row of tickets at a charity concert, paying my friends’ tuition—good stuff man, good stuff.

I think this was also the first long fic I’d written and posted that didn’t revolve around children or have them heavily feature in it (yes, I know, I put Teddy into it, but still, the story would have worked perfectly without him).

Finally, I loved creating the art to go with A special client. It took a lot of work (and a lot of coaching from my sister, who actually understands proportions, lol) but I love how it turned out.

Rating: Explicit Length: 52 231 words (plus A special client- 235 words) Summary: What happens when Europe's richest business tycoon asks London's poorest (probably) prostitute for directions? An adventure at the Humdinger, and a love story to last the ages. Or at least the week. Pairings : Drarry, Pansy/Millicent/Luna

2. Sex Ed for Witches and Wizards of All Ages

Okay, so Sex Ed is a topic that is very near and dear to my heart. I have studied it extensively through my academic career, and continue to learn so much amazing stuff from so many amazing people every day! I’ve said time and again that Sex Ed for Witches and Wizards of all ages is not a reliable guide to sex ed, because I did not fact check the entire thing, and honestly? It’s fan-fiction. 

That being said, I really wanted to challenge readers to reflect on what they think is important to teach children, and how much of an impact learning about consent, respect, trust, sexuality, healthy bodies and healthy relationships can have on all humans as they grow. As always, please talk to a trusted health care provider or qualified sex educator for questions/concerns related to sex ed!

Rating: Explicit Length: 77 066 words (my longest fic posted!) Summary: Draco and Astoria decide on their wedding night that they're not going to raise their future children with the same outdated traditions they were raised with, especially relating to love and sex. They never could have predicted exactly how much that decision would change Scorpius' life. Pairings: Starts with Drastoria, Hinny, eventual Drarry, Scorbus and Jeddy

3. The Godric’s Hollow Wizarding Parents Association

This is technically a year and a bit ago, but I think to this day GHWPA is one of my favourite fics I’ve written and deserved a mention! It was inspired by a Tasty Junior video showing how to arrange your fridge so that children could pack their own lunches, which is what Harry does with his kids in my story. I always see all kinds of clever tips and tricks online, and never get to use them irl, so I figured why not put them in a fic?

I also took GHWPA as an opportunity to really express how much food means in my daily life. I love cooking and baking, but I also love learning about different cuisines of the world and sharing that joy and connection that so many people associate with food, sometimes without even realising it!

Rating: Explicit Length: 26 298 words Summary: When Draco decided to move his small family to Godric’s Hollow, little did he know he’d have to deal with misleading television programs, some surprisingly friendly neighbours and a bit of peanut butter. Okay, lots of peanut butter. Pairings : Drarry, Past Drastoria and Hinny

@hptruefan-cheekytorah also made a gorgeous mood board for it, go check it out!

 4. I hosted the Drarry Discord Drawble challenge! It’s a lot of fun participating in the drabble and drawble challenge every month, but it was a whole new experience to host it, because it made me so much more aware of the artists in our community and gave me a whole new set of responsibility to manage for the month! It was a lot of fun though, and I encourage anyone who wants some drabbles and lovely art to check out the Drarry Discord Writer’s Corner Drabble Challenge tag on AO3 for all the amazing work creators have made in the months that this challenge has been running.

 5. So this isn’t an accomplishment that’s easy to display on Tumblr, but I’ve gotten a lot better at balancing my fandom participation with my real life. There was a time in the past couple of years when I would write and interact in fandom during every free moment I could find, often as a way to get away from stress and uncertainty in real life. I’ve been getting better at stepping back from fandom and managing my real life, and it’s working—my marks have improved in school, I left a job that was terrible for my mental and physical health to find something that makes me much happier, and I’ve pulled a complete 180 on my career path, and now have a much happier outlook on the future! Funny enough, through all that, I feel more connected to the fandom community than before! So if you’ve beta’d for me, cheered me on, liked or commented on my work, made a meme that made me laugh, sprinted with me, shared your own work that inspired and moved me, or even just said hi to me in passing, know that I really love and appreciate you!

 I won’t tag anyone because I’m sure the few people I know on Tumblr have already been tagged, but if you haven’t and would like to do this, please do!

[selphiahaven]

Selphia Haven: How it Began

Just over a year ago, I decided to make Selphia Haven. I would like to believe most blogs are made just for fun, or in order to show support and love for a special niche.

This blog was originally made for a different purpose.

Please note that my story may hold some triggering subjects for people. Please read at your own risk.

It was February of last year when I realized I had depression, but the seeds of it started to plant a lot earlier. For example, I think the hopelessness in my life started around the time that the Charlottesville white nationalist protest was being covered. News stories like this are shocking, and unbelievably scary, for a young adult who is trying to find their way in life.

I had always tried to desperately hold onto the belief that everyone, everywhere, can love and care for each other if they are either given the right knowledge or the right opportunities. I had originally picked up this belief as a child, and wanted to grow up to become a writer who would share stories with kind messages. I pursued a passion for writing all the way up until university, wherein I discovered psychology. My area of focus switched from becoming a writer to becoming a counsellor. I was going to help people, to become someone that could help manifest hope and love within people who had lost their way.

News stories like white nationalism, and similar hateful topics, made that hope slowly slip away from my fingers.

It was a slow fall. I don't remember what happened, exactly, between the Charlottesville protests and February of last year that really wore down my hope. But, by the time the Parkland school shooting happened, all that hope disappeared. The last shred of my love for the world was gone.

What are you supposed to do in life when all this terrible, terrible stuff happens in places that you cannot directly impact? Things far worse than you can imagine, to people far younger than you might think. Watching on a TV screen, you can distance yourself; pretend it doesn't happen. But you know. You know that these terrible things are someone's reality. Someone, somewhere, has to deal with each and every one of these realities that pop up on our news stations. And you can do nothing to help it.

I didn't do much from February onwards. I ate. I slept. I still went to school and worked. But it was...robotic? Everything just kind of happened. Nothing held purpose or meaning. Assignments were just assignments. Work was just work. Food was just food. And sleep was never enough.

My love for my future career was gone. I no longer wanted to be a counsellor, because I couldn't bear to deal with it. I couldn't bear to think that I would be facing these realities every single day—talking with people who had gone through losses of loved ones, suicide attempts, rape, abuse, and so much more—and yet could not provide a source of hope for them. How do you find hope for others when there are stories out there that tell us that everything bad is still happening, right now, right here, in this moment? I could be murdered next week by simply being in the wrong supermarket when a terrorist walks in and starts shooting.

I hadn't exactly contemplated suicide. Another belief I held on to was that, no matter what happens, every step alive is still a step in a growing direction. I would not commit suicide; but I was starting to think about it a lot more. For example: What it would be like to die. And, well, how long it would take for this belief to slip from my fingers just as quietly as my previous belief on the love in the world did. How long would it be before I actually started contemplating it. How long would it be before I actually committed it. What would it take for me to believe that death would be the "best option."

What got me moving wasn't through some miraculous determination. It was fear. I didn't want to die— It scared me to even be thinking about it. I still loved things in this world. My family. My friends. I actually did like school, and though I had been viewing my schoolwork at this time a mostly assignments, I did want to continue learning about the mysteries behind psychology. It was more than just the big things, there were also simple things I wanted to live for. I love ice cream. I love the smell of vanilla. I love the feel of the sun. I love the feel of the rain too, actually, and you can't feel these things, smell these things, taste these things when you're dead.

I wanted to stay alive. I wanted to still laugh at things. I had more funny videos I wanted to watch. More books I wanted to read. There are things in this world that I haven't even heard of yet that I want to stay for and experience in the future. I wanted to write. Oh my god, I wanted to write so much. I would write without end when I was in high school, but gave it up when I started pursuing psychology. I never got back to it because I felt I wasn't good enough, but I still wanted to do it.

All these lovely things that I wanted to do, and see, and experience...

But no effort to give.

I was tired, always. Constantly. My motivation to do anything outside of "the mandatory" (School, work, etc.) was nonexistent. I wanted to write, but every sentence I wrote looked ugly, or wrong, or faulty in some way. I wanted to go out for walks, but I also didn't want to get up and out of my room. I wasn't confident in anything I did; including the things I did at school and work.

I just needed something though. I wanted to do something. Anything.

I didn't start Tumblr for Selphia Haven specifically; I started it to look at funny pictures of animals (see also: an escape from reality). But it seemed like an inviting website to find...something to do on it. It wasn't limiting like on Twitter where I could only have, like, one blog per email. Tumblr gives the opportunity to try many different blogs, if you choose to pursue many different niches.

So, something small, then. I wanted to do something small. Not something meaningful; just something that would motivate me to get out of bed and do...something outside of the mandatory. It was here that I discovered something that seemed easy enough: incorrect quote blogs. In fact, I was so interested in hearing random, funny quotes that I even follow blogs for fandoms I have never seen anything from (eg. Voltron, Harry Potter, Mystic Messenger).

RF4 wasn't my first stop, but seeing as Pandora Hearts and Vanitas no Carte already had frequently updating incorrect quotes blogs, I had to find some other fandom that didn't quite have an incorrect quote blog yet. And... Well, Rune Factory did have one before I started. @overheard-at-selphia existed a few months before I walked in. However, they seemed to only be updating maybe once or twice a month. I thought for a day about whether they might be open to sharing the spotlight with me. Then, I decided that, what the hell, I'll just do it and if they aren't a fan of it, they can always just message me and tell me to shut up.

(I still follow @overheard-at-selphia too. They still update sometimes. It makes me happy.)

On June 14th, 2018, I made my first awkward post.

I made a commitment to myself then: I would make 5 posts a day. They were easy enough to make (this was, of course, before I started adding images) so this kind of goal was realistic for me. Also, I was in the heat of summer, so I didn't have schoolwork to worry about. The queue system still saves me to this day; I don't need to worry when I know I have a busy week coming up, because I can just fill it up when I have effort, and then let it run on my "off days".

Small motivations included just a handful of notes per post, and a handful of followers that gave me incentive to continue moving. Followers meant that people were relying on me to continue making posts. I couldn't just stop without reason; this little project was my own, but I created it to be my own meaningful "mandatory project".

Five little posts a day. Gradually, gradually, gradually, I discovered some courage to try something new. I created the picture incorrect quotes through a small burst of motivation in November, and the results had been astounding. I went from getting maybe 10 notes per post (If I was lucky) to around 20-50 notes per post. And that's not even counting this fukkin monster of a post that exploded straight outta nowhere.

Three posts a day. Gradually, gradually, gradually, I discovered some new courage. Gradually, gradually, gradually, I started writing again. Gradually, gradually, I wrote something. I finished writing something. I actually posted something I wrote; just over one year of Selphia Haven's existence.

I'd love to be able to say life is better now, but I can't really say that for certain. I'm not really sure if things will be okay, and I can't make promises about life when news stories are just as depressing as they have ever been. I have no grand answers for the mysteries that plague our existence; why are we alive and what's the point in all this. And, really, none of the problems that caused my depression have really been "solved" (I still don't want to be a counsellor anymore and I haven't found a different career path yet, for example).

But...I dunno. I'm enjoying this. Making Selphia Haven. It may not be a grand, exuberant show that's going to cure depression or save the children or give starving people food, but... It's my little effort. It's my little attempt at making a bit of light. A little bit of laughter in this dark world. I think we all need that— A little bit of something that gives us light. For me, that was creating Selphia Haven. Making a little effort of my own to (hopefully) make someone smile— Even if it's just a little smile. If my existence on this Earth is just to bring a small smile to your face, well... I guess that makes it worth it for me to continue, right?

That's why I'm so eager to promote any kinds of Rune Factory blogs you guys make, actually. It was me gaining those first few followers that motivated me to continue my first small steps... Gradually, gradually, gradually, I hope that those who start small can grow into something larger too. That people have something small that they can love, or create, or follow along with.

But, I also realize that, you know, not everyone experiences depression in the same way, right? My depression was helped because I had something small I could do every day. No story is the same; but I hope that if you do want to try out making a blog like mine, you will allow me to advertise it for you.

This...maybe isn't a super uplifting story, but hey. It's my story, and it seems to be working out for me so far. I'm happy with it. I'm happy that I'm writing again. And I'm going to continue making gradual steps towards the future too, which might lead me to something bigger. Who knows.

...But I hope I can finish Castle to the West, at least. Writing that story makes me really happy. So... I guess I hope you all continue your small steps to find that thing that makes you happy too. And if you need help, please ask for help! I’d be happy to give you my support!