#genuinely distraught with myself that i didn't make them kiss

[bg3sinbin]

Alright so I told myself I wouldn't post anything about it... but I still can't stop thinking about the A!Astarion kisses, Tav/Durge's face during it, and the stupid blow up around it. So here we go

Warnings: This is long and rambly and contains all kinds of spoilers. I am an A!Astarion lover. I will not be responding to discourse on this post. I do not care if you disagree. Make your own vent post.

OKAY so the brunt of the arguments I keep trying to ignore seeing surrounding this are how the expressions are "immersion breaking" for A!A fans, and everyone else clowning on them (sometimes rightfully so tho, ngl) because "the game gives the player expressions all the time! why are u mad now? do u just want ur Tav/Durge to be a blank slate?? lmao idiot" which ??? okay it feels like ur purposefully missing the point.

Yeah, actually sometimes this game gives my Durge some really ooc reactions. And it does, in fact, bother me. That being said, that is to be expected when u take an oc u had for like ten years and try to stick them in a pre-programmed video game. Things are gonna get ooc sometimes.

It also though, is usually smaller moments. Or things that happen Once and then u move on. Conversations where I go "hmmm. he wouldn't say any of these. oh well." or moments where he reacts negatively to terrible things that this evil bastard would normally laugh at. OH. WELL.

Now here's where my frustration actually come in. This game does a really good job, probably a better job than anything else I've played, at letting u play an interesting evil char. Something more than just "I am Rude, Aggressive, and A Dick To Everyone" and thus being punished for it gameplay wise.

I can play The Dark Urge, literal child of the god of murder, a canon necrophiliac, cannibalistic, gore freak that was going to flatten the entire world. There is a whole ass plot line and ending (multiple achievements included!) surrounding doing just that. There's all kinds of nasty interactions/plot options programmed in.

Yet, to the best of my memory, my Durge doesn't look horrified when we choose to slaughter the grove. He doesn't look horrified when we choose to kill the Dame Aylin, or Isobel. He isn't Obviously Distraught when we choose to help Astarion complete the ritual, or when we kill Shadowheart's parents, or become an Unholy Assassin of Bhaal.

To my knowledge, the player character isn't made to look afraid when kissing Dark Justiciar!Shadowheart, nor when they are literally poisoned by kissing Minthara. Sure, u CAN be offended about it in the convo with her after, but its still ur choice as the player.

I mean shit, they even patched in (in that very same patch) a positive, supportive reaction from ur evil partners at the end when u take over the nether brain! (at least for A!Astarion, and Minthara) so now when u do the evil thing that u and ur evil partner have been talking about all game, they don't suddenly change their opinion the second u actually do it.

And I really appreciate that about bg3. I can make evil choices and get interesting outcomes rather than the game just locking me out of all content actually made for that quest. Like ffs u can only get Minthara's romance scene if u slaughter dozens of innocents.

THIS GAME REWARDS U FOR DOING THE BAD THING. And like the evil options do usually have drawbacks and/or are less fleshed out than the good ones, but there are whole ass plots arcs u will never see if u only play good chars. This game makes playing an evil character interesting.

So why is it that I can do all that, and make/have my Durge react (mostly) accordingly, yet the moment the partner I chose acts controlling, now is when my characters feelings are being decided for me?

I can spend the whole game hearing Astarion talk about how spawn are controlled, how all vampires want is power, and I can say to his face "yes! this character wants that! turn me!" and yet somehow... what? the creators think I didn't know?

It just genuinely doesn't make sense to me. Like I can choose, through dialogue, that my Durge is power hungry, and very into the idea of being Astarion's pretty little lap dog. He knew what he was signing up for! And yet he looks terrified when his vampire bf (who has been feeding on him all game) bites his lip?? really?

Idk I just have some really weird feelings on some of the ways they try to Really Emphasize that u made the wrong choice for Astarion specifically, and this just exemplifies that.

Either do the rest of ur characters this service, make all of them (make every choice in the game) a moral lesson for the player to learn, where u hold their hand and say "u didn't listen to what they actually needed :c u could have done the good thing but u didn't :c"

Or let me play my evil bastard. And let me revel in it.

[psychicexpertlover]

I just. Have to talk about this somewhere so I might as well make that tumblr. CW for physical violence, suicide ideation, disordered eating, pictures showing blood and injuries.

On the 7th of May 2023, my ex-boyfriend (N) physically assaulted me.

He had broken up with me on April 9th, but he continued to say he loved me, kissed me, and we were even physically intimate twice leading up to May 7th. He had called me "my love" as late as May 2nd, so we were for all intents and purposes on good, if confusing, terms.

May 7th was prom. We had gotten tickets several months prior, and our entire group of mutual friends was going, so we decided to both attend. I was at the time struggling with an eating disorder, and had lost an unhealthy amount of weight in very little time (around 9kgs in a little less than a month - I went from 62.8 to 54.4). On the day of I'd only had a coffee for breakfast, and at the prom dinner itself had a single slice of skagen toast.

Prom was awkward and uncomfortable and I wanted to leave almost as soon as I'd set foot there. There was free alcohol, and I drank five glasses of wine. I'm a lightweight, who can barely handle two on a good day. At around 22.00, N made to leave the function. He was upset about something, which he hadn't been earlier (we had sat at the same table) and I to this day don't know what.

He made it clear I shouldn't follow him, that I should "stay and have fun". I didn't listen. I ran after him, and as he'd gotten a head start I took off my heels to try to catch up. I ran, barefoot, crying, over gravel and at some point broken glass. These were not rational actions. They were fueled by emotion and alcohol. I regret them every damn day.

At some point, I called him, begging him to wait for me, and he grew angry at me and hung up. I called a second time, telling him that I was lost and scared and sorry, that it was dark and cold and that my feet hurt. He was getting increasingly irate, and eventually came to find me. I'd wandered onto the road, which was thankfully devoid of cars, and collapsed, on the verge of either fainting or throwing up, or both.

N picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, which almost made me vomit, and carried me to something nearby where I could sit. It wasn't a bench, I think it was stone steps. He picked the glass and gravel from my feet. I noticed at this point that the blood from my soles had splattered all the way up to my knees. After having somewhat patched up my feet, we realized I was missing a shoe.

It was here that he began shouting at me. I don't remember what he said, only that he was furious that I'd "put myself in this situation". I was crying, hyperventilating, and feeling equal parts shame and guilt. I will genuinely never understand why he did not call either an Uber or honestly an ambulance here. It is worth noting that he was sober, and considerably larger and stronger than me - 196cm tall, ate properly and worked out regularly.

Either way we walked to the nearest tram station together. Here, he told me that he did not love me anymore, that my actions that night had crossed a line and that he'd stopped loving me after the second time I'd called. This made me more distraught. We argued, and continued to argue on the tram. At one point, he "snapped", grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me so roughly a passerby intervened to tell him off.

We reached the station we were supposed to change trains at, and I do not know why we went on the same one, towards his place. A lot of the night is honestly blurry to me, I remember the general chronology of events and some specific occurences, but there is a lot that's unclear to me and I'll probably never really know.

On this tram, he was very spiteful, but did not harm my physically. He said he despised me for putting him in this situation, and when I started sobbing at that he told me to stop causing a scene. He also heavily insinuated I'd be better off dead, or at least that's how I understood his words, and that was really triggering. Either way, at this point I had sort of shut down, I was really hurt. This was someone I used to call my best friend, the person I thought I was going to marry. I felt betrayed, but more than anything I blamed myself for the situation.

We got off at his station. I was having trouble standing upright and walking because of the injuries on my feet plus still being very intoxicated. Here, only now, N booked an Uber for me. After having done so, he looked me up and down and said, "I am going to go home and try to forget that this version of you ever existed." and BOOPED MY NOSE.

This action sent me into downright hysterics. I wobbled forward, grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo in part to steady myself and in part because, well, what the fuck. I just remember asking over and over, "Why would you do that?", my voice breaking. He grabbed my wrists, wrenching my hands away, and told me to not touch him. His fingers left bruises.

The Uber he'd ordered cancelled, and his phone had died by this point, so he decided the best course of action was that we'd go to his place, so he could charge his phone and get a new ride for me. We reached his house, and he let himself in via the basement door. He told me to wait outside. I stood there shaking, no jacket, feet bleeding, shivering and crying in my prom dress, and begged him to let me in. Obviously not to stay the night, just so that I wouldn't be alone outside in the cold, in the dark, in an area I was completely unfamiliar with.

N refused and made to close the door, and I grabbed it (maybe by the handle?), weeping and begging, again not thinking, just, desperate to not be left there. He pushed me off it with such force that I went flying backwards and cracked my head on the pavement. He slammed the door, I just lay there dazed, flickering in and out of consciousness.

Eventually, a car pulled up and N opened the door, picked me up and scooped me into it. I somehow made it back home. The following day, I woke up to find myself blocked by him on everything. I attempted suicide, failed, and ended up seeking help. Following my head injury, I had symptoms of what I believe to be a concussion, but I did not consult a medical professional because I didn't want N to get in trouble. I also did not tell our mutual friends, who ended up "choosing" him because they'd known him longer.

Here are some pictures of my injuries

The blood splatters on my legs from running barefoot

The bruises from when he grabbed my wrist

My eyes following the head injury, why I suspected a concussion

I don't really know why I'm making this post. I guess I just want to say what happened wasn't fair. And that healing is really fucking hard. I still have nightmares about what happened. I wake up every morning in a puddle of my own sweat, shaking, heart beating frenetically, and I want it to stop. I'm so fucking tired. He is not the first person I cared about to physically hurt me, and he knows all about that too, but at least my mom apologizes. I hate this.

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (7)

―; summary: who knew that fight clubs could be so romantic?

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 3.3k

―; warnings: light swearing and a wee bit of violence.

―; A/N: good lord this chapter made my heart do the big !!! i just love them and i hope someone else does too :,,)) even as the writer of this i feel like im torturing myself so please take this and like... coo over it with me im begging--

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

To say that Florence Abberline had any idea how underground fighting rings operated would be the biggest lie of the century. The only thing she could correctly assume was that there would be blood and lots of noise. On both of these counts, she was right.

The building itself appeared to be some kind of disused warehouse, converted into a space for men (and the occasional woman) to tap into their more primal side and beat the ever-loving God out of another person. Honestly, she wouldn’t have expected anything less and, despite being perhaps the only woman here in a dress such as hers, Florence was simply itching to get in view of the ring. Nothing was more therapeutic than watching round upon round of fighting-- well, she assumed at least.

A shove came to her arm and man, waving a bottle of something in the air, swept across her peripherals. She grimaced, abstaining from passive-aggressively ‘bumping’ back into the man, and leant into Jacob-- a necessary gesture to be able to hear one another. “I feel like I’m going to be mugged.” Her eyes drifted to a woman dressed in red; she had been eyeing up the rings on Florence’s fingers since she’d walked in here. “I’m certainly not getting into the ring to fight for my possessions either.”

She felt a hand just above the hump of her hoop skirt and his body shifted to her side, obscuring Florence from the staring woman’s view. “I reckon you’d have a good chance in there.” When she shot a harsh glance at him, he was grinning back down at her. “You’d floor them with your looks alone.”

“By that you meant that I am dazzlingly beautiful rather than anything nasty, I hope?”

“Of course, dear Flor. I certainly didn’t mean that they’d take one look at the Hell in your eyes and piss their poor britches.” 

Florence’s jaw shifted to one side, faux offended, and a laugh slipped past her lips. “You must have a bladder of steel then, Jacob, because the sheer amount of times I’ve had to look at you like that is astounding.”

“No. Actually,” He shuffled them through a particularly small gap, during which Florence realised Jacob didn’t smell half bad. Then, to herself, she cursed; what kind of observation was that? “my trousers are just very thick. Evie tends to have the same effect so they’re a needed precaution.”

She snorted when she laughed next, bordering on her hysterical pig squeal of a giggle. The curl of Jacob’s lips made him look like the cat that got the cream but, between manoeuvring them through the tight crowd and trying to ensure greedy hands don’t pick at Florence, he didn’t have the chance to glance down at her to see if that dimple was pressing into her cheek again. 

The cheering became rowdier and more… animated the closer they came to the ring and, every couple of steps, either Florence had to duck out of the way out of an arm or Jacob had to move his body to act as a human shield. Despite it all, she didn’t seem dampened by the less-than-gentle hospitality and had taken to looking upon the fighting in wonder. Could Florence throw a punch? Certainly. Could she throw a punch like that? Most certainly not.

Blood splattered across the floor just as the pair reached the side of the ring, blending quite seamlessly into the already stained stone below. Florence flinched slightly, less in fear of the fighting and more in fear of getting anything on her dress and having to explain it to Freddy later. She could already imagine the look on his face if he saw her here, though she suspected that circumstance wouldn’t occur; Freddy didn’t tend to attend underground fight clubs for leisure. 

When Jacob muttered something to a man in green, who had been whooping and hollering at the side of the ring, a small gap was made for himself and Florence. It was a… cosy space; Jacob was at her side now but had to tuck a portion of his body behind her, shoulder against hers and hand still on her back. At least it meant for easier conversation.

“Who’re you rooting for?” He asked, leaning down to her somewhat and pointing toward the ring. 

Her eyes flickered between both fighters; one was a particularly tall bald bloke who seemed to employ brute strength over any other strategy, whereas the other was a smaller brunet-- a nimble man, it seemed. Just as Florence went to speak, the larger of the two landed a bone-breaking hit to the brunet’s nose and, through a sympathetic grimace, she pointed to him. “That one. It doesn’t matter how fast the other guy is; baldie’s tall so he has a long reach.”

Jacob hummed but Florence couldn’t hear it. Hazel eyes continued to watch the fight and, for the brief moment in which she gave a quick glance up to his face, Florence realised that Jacob had a particular passion for this sport. 

“You really love this, don’t you?” She asked but Jacob, too captivated by the deadly dance going on within the ring, didn’t answer her. Two fingers, readied like a little spear, prodded at his ribs to get his attention and he made a rather unlikely yelping noise as a reaction. Holding back the beginnings of laughter, Florence asked again: “You’re quite enraptured, Jacob. Like a good bit of fighting, do we?”

He nodded his head, frowning as though he was weighing up his own opinion. “You could say that, what with me being the champion here and all.”

Although he didn’t yet allow his gaze to dart toward her to gauge her reaction, the squeeze to his bicep and the wide eyes in his peripherals told him all he needed to know. “You’re the champion?”

“Yep!” His eyes finally met hers and he couldn’t even consider keeping up his smug facade any longer, breaking out into a grin. “The majority-appointed king of the ring. See? I told you King Jacob had a lovely ring to it.”

Florence laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, your majesty, calm down with the ego-boosting.”

“You think calling me ‘your majesty’ will do anything to help that--”

“M’lord!” The pair turned to see a top hat swimming through the crowd. Florence gave Jacob a side glance but said nothing until the disembodied voice finally… well, became embodied. “It’s so good to see you here today.” A man appeared; he was a bit taller than Jacob but a lot lankier and seemed to hop towards them like a pleased little rabbit.

He was a performer then, Florence assumed. 

“Hello, Robert. How are things in the ring this afternoon?” A hand came out to shake the man’s shoulder in greeting but his eyes flickered to Florence. At the same time, a wave of recognition crashed across her expression and she looked Robert up and down. As it turns out, Jacob was right; he did have a peculiar sense of fashion.

Robert sighed in perhaps the most dramatic way a man could, throwing his arms up at his side and walking-- no, floating-- around them to be closer to the fighting. “Terribly boring, Mister Frye. There’s no life in the ring-- no zest!” Behind his back, Jacob and Florence gave each other a look before Robert turned around again. “There is one way the afternoon might get more interesting?” He let his sight drag to Jacob, a light in his eye that hinted at his true intentions.

“I wasn’t planning on fighting today, Robert.” Jacob gestured to Florence beside him. “I was just introducing Miss Abberline to the glorious world of underground brawling.”

Robert looked from Jacob to Florence, sizing up how close they were standing with a smile. “There’s no better way to impress a lady than demonstrating your raw masculinity, m’lord! Imagine it:” He pushed between them, an arm slung over Jacob’s shoulder while his other hand swept across Florence’s vision, “he’s in the ring, all scowls and sweat and muscle. He lands another crippling punch and the crowd goes wild! He looks out into the masses and spots her-- his good luck charm. He may already be the champion of this ring but his only true desire is to be the champion…” He leaned closer to Jacob, pressing a hand against his own chest, “of her heart--”

“Woah, Robert, maybe we should slow it down with the whole--” 

“Sounds splendid.” Florence interrupted, shooting Jacob a devious little glance as he removed Topping’s arm from around his shoulder. “I think I’d enjoy seeing you in the ring, Jacob.”

He huffed a small laugh out through his nose but had no time to retort. Robert broke out into a grin, gesturing with great vigour toward the ending match. “Wonderful! See, m’lord? Even the lady encourages it.”

Jacob opened his mouth once, closed it again, then looked between Robert and Florence, defeated. There was a moment in which they were both simply staring at him and he sighed. “Well, I’m not one to deny my adoring followers.”

Florence gave him a half-smile, amusement dancing in the honey of her eyes. “You’ll have to prove to me that you’re worthy of your title, King Jacob. I’ll be here, looking pretty and being a-- what was it?-- good luck charm?”

He laughed, already being ushered away by Robert, and pointed to her. “If I win, you have to call me ‘your majesty’ until I’m satisfied.” 

The dimple in her cheek appeared, grinning at his daring, but he was now too far away for her to offer a definite answer. Florence only held her hands up, shrugging playfully, before Jacob disappeared into the crowd.

Oh, what fun this would be. 

Before Jacob had even emerged again from that shady backroom that he’d been all but dragged into, Robert had begun to energise the crowd with promises of the champion and “life-changing bets”. Florence was glad that a few of the Rooks still surrounded her, keeping her safe from the rowdiness of the masses behind her-- and ensuring no fingers sneak toward her and snatch away her valuables.

There was cheering from one end of the room, presumably the reaction to Jacob finally making his way to the ring. Eyes narrowed and lips pursed slightly, Florence began to scour the crowd in hopes of spotting him. When she noticed a few men slapping someone on the back-- that someone being Jacob, she grinned and waved hoping to gain his--

Wait.

Wait.

Her smile shifted into a rather conflicted expression.

Was his chest bare?

Despite there being plentiful men here wearing nothing besides trousers and the hair on their chest, Florence had a strange feeling that seeing specifically Jacob like that was a level of intimacy that they hadn’t achieved yet.

‘Yet’? Goodness, Florence Abberline-- pull yourself together.

However, before she could pull her eyes to a safer zone, her sight caught onto his-- what were they? Tattoos? She squinted again, subconsciously leaning closer to the ring that he’d just entered to figure out what they were. One was most certainly a bird of some kind but the other one was so small that Florence couldn’t quite--

It was then that she realised that the tattoos were slowly getting closer to her, which meant that Jacob was too. Her gaze snapped upwards to his face and she was met with a self-satisfied grin, one of his brows raised. With wide eyes, Florence shook her head, going to tell him that she wasn’t ogling she was merely studying his tattoos, but a bell began to ring and it drew Jacob’s attention away. 

Damn it all. She wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 

His usually relaxed demeanour hardened into something altogether far more intimidating as soon as the ringing stopped. Robert shouted something but Florence couldn’t hear it over the roar of the crowd, encouraging the other men to “get a good hit on Frye!”. The fight had started, she supposed.

Now, not to say that Florence had ever doubted Jacob’s abilities but… well, that’s exactly what she seemed to have done. She had presumed he had a good knowledge of weapons and how to use them-- not his bare fists. He was a lot faster than she’d anticipated and seemed to have a rather strange sense for when an attack came toward him; Jacob had not yet taken a hit, despite a few men laying, immobilised, on the cold floor below. 

Speaking of which, surely it was unfair to pit one man against so many?

The crunch and crack of someone’s leg gave her the answer to her own question: one man wouldn’t stand a chance in the ring against Jacob and even those who fought in groups were fools. 

Thanks to her wondering, Florence hadn’t realised she’d started to cheer for him, as though it were second nature, at the side of the ring. It had begun as a gentle clapping then evolved into a wide grin spread across her face. At one point, when Jacob had floored two men-- both taller than him-- at once, a loud cheer erupted from her, the root of the noise deep within her chest. The volume startled the rook beside her and Jacob himself, it seemed, since his eyes flickered over to where she stood.

At that exact moment, a skinny little man punched Jacob in the side, hoping that it would distract him enough to land a hit on his stubbled jaw. Unfortunately for him, Jacob caught the man’s wrist before it could connect with his face and slammed his own fist into the bloke’s gut, winding him. Florence didn’t even have time to feel a sting of guilt for pulling Jacob’s attention away from the fight. Hell, he didn’t even seem all too fazed by the hit he got before.

She continued to cheer, though perhaps more quietly this time, and she could feel her heartbeat through her veins. He was doing so well and the only way she could describe the bursting in her chest was pride. In a way, perhaps she’d become a bit star-struck; Jacob Frye, a renowned and celebrated fighter, was her friend, had decided to bring her here, went out of his way to speak to her-- it made her feel so very special. God, how stupid.

The next few rounds came and went in the blink of an eye. Florence wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that was making the world go by so fast or if it was the fact that she was simply enraptured with the whole ordeal. By the time she got home, she’d likely still be shaking with excitement; she’d just have to tell Freddy that she read a particularly interesting book in the library-- one about fighting, as to drip a small portion of her actual day into the story.

Three rings of the bell marked the end of the fight and, as suspected, Jacob stood victorious with little more than a reddened cheek, a bruise forming below his collarbone, and bloodied knuckles. Robert hopped-- as is his way-- into the ring to declare that Jacob had defended his rightful title; Jacob seemed very pleased with himself, for want of a better word. 

Moments later, he clambered over the barrier between the crowd and the ring, sweaty and breathing heavily, patting his forehead with a little rag to remove, at the very least, the sheen on his face. Despite all this, he broke out into a grin as he made his way to her. “How’s my good luck charm, then? Did you enjoy--”

In an act that surprised the both of them, Florence, without much thought, pulled him into a tight hug, balancing on her tiptoes slightly so she could comfortably bury her face into his neck. It was a gesture borne of gratitude or congratulations or… something like that. One half of her regretted making such an idiotic, rash decision but the other half felt Jacob’s hands on her back, a thumb rubbing gently across the fabric of her dress, and she smiled. 

As she pulled back, hands gliding from the nape of his neck to his shoulders, Florence was grinning and Jacob seemed to mirror it. “That was glorious, Jacob! I mean, the precision of your hits was--”

God, the light in her eyes was beautiful.

“-- astounding and when you countered that blond bloke? Amazing! How did you know to--”

Would it be too forward to kiss her?

“-- dodge at that moment? It’s like you have some… superhuman ability. I’m still--”

Oh, he wanted to kiss her.

“-- shaking from it all and I--” She paused, sighing through a small smile and averting her gaze for a moment to think. Florence didn’t notice this but, at the same time, Jacob seemed to lean towards her, following the movement of her head. When she looked back to him, she became acutely aware of how close they were, how one of her thumbs absently traced the curve of his neck, how she could feel his breath on her skin.

Jacob’s gaze flickered down to her lips.

Florence felt her heart skip.

Did she want to kiss him?

Her lips parted and honey eyes searched hazel ones for any signs of dishonesty-- something that she should’ve looked for with Thomas-- but she found nothing besides warmth and a sense of... adoration? 

Fuck.

Her hands moved from his shoulder back to their previous position on his neck. Using this as leverage, she pulled herself back into the hug and quietly hoped that he wouldn’t be able to feel the stammering beat in her chest. 

Oh, God preserve her; she did want to kiss him. She wanted to take Jacob’s stupid face in her hands and kiss him. 

What a predicament.

Florence Abberline was falling in love again.

“Thank you.” She whispered to him but she wasn’t sure why. For bringing her here? Perhaps. For making her feel special? Maybe. For prying her heart open again with little jokes and smiles? Just as likely. 

A few moments passed in which they both felt like they had missed an opportunity but they found comfort in one another regardless. Then, Florence finally pulled away fully a soft smile forming on her lips. “Well, I do believe that I should be on my way home, lest Freddy start thinking Willard’s stolen me away.” 

“Give me a moment to… well, dress--” She huffed out a laugh, dimple making its mark in her cheek, which encouraged Jacob to grin too, “-- and I’ll walk with you.”

“Oh, Jacob, you don’t have to. You’ve already done plenty--”

“I insist.” There was a certain genuineness to his smile that made her cave.

“Well, who am I to turn down a king, hm?” That devious little light reignited in her eyes again.

He breathed out a laugh and mirrored her impish smile. “Remember our bet? You have to call me ‘your majesty’ until I--”

“Hold on. I never agreed to this bet--”

Jacob had begun to back into the crowd and, thanks to this, he cupped a hand to his ear, “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t seem to hear you, my loyal subject.” Florence’s jaw protruded in annoyance, crossing her arms beneath her chest, but a begrudging smile played at her lips. “I suppose you’ll have to wait until I return, eh?” Then, he turned and was swallowed by all the tightly-knit people. 

She shook her head, watching after him with a certain look of disbelief in her gaze.

She liked Jacob fucking Frye.

God, how her brother would hate that.

[elysianluv]

content warning/s: reader has a menstrual cycle

ASKING FOR FAKE MENSTRUAL PRODUCTS! ft. fuegoleon, nozel, licht, yuno

fuegoleon vermillion.

— definitely makes a weird face before nodding super determinedly because "this is my duty as your boyfriend, my darling, why wouldn't i go?"

— not you already feeling guilty 😭🖐️

— i shit you not he genuinely looks traumatized when he returns

— "darling, i tried five different stores," looks at you apologetically before murmuring, "the employees were a bit rude though."

— while you're: 👁️👄👁️❓

— "i asked if they knew where i could find the ouchie coohie 3000 and they just started laughing at me! is it that strange for me to buy products for you??"

— well congrats now you're 100% guilt ridden bc this babe apparently refuses to believe you could've tricked him </3

— how could you do this

— but nooo he keeps going, "i told them my precious s/o was in a lot of pain, so they kept on referring me to other stores and laughing. is it an extremely rare product, my sweet?"

— "uh– well, uhm– you see..."

— do you have the heart to break his trust? do you??

— but then this glorious bastard grins at your distraught expression, a mischievous glint in his eyes

— "do you have something to say, darling? my love? the one i trust more than myself? my one and—"

— "did you– just–?? was this an uno reverse??" yes, yes it was </3

— apparently the employees from the first store exposed the prank and told him to guilt trip you 💀 bless them acting skills fue 😌✨

— still smirking, fue closes in on you, "how does it feel, hm? the bitter sting of betrayal? does it hurt, (y/n)?"

— good job, you've created a monster 😊

nozel silva.

— apparently you have no fears 😬✌️

— he's suspicious the moment you request the product because literally why should he go get it instead of a servant when he could be cuddling you instead

— also he just doesn't trust you on your period, you once asked for a hoard of chocolates, fell asleep in the few minutes it took him to get them, then scolded him for not waking you even though you would've scolded him more for waking you 😔

— scolded him again when he went "i'm royalty 😤😤"

— goes anyway like simp he is

— he's smiling when he gets back

— the moment you knew you fucked up

— "never in 29 years have i ever–" takes in a deep breath before continuing, "...the shopkeeps said the 'unicorn wing tampon size extra extra large' didn't exist."

— so you try to pull a fast one on him, "oh, did they not have the size?"

— his eyes narrow at you and you think yes, i've got him

— until mercury starts pooling together in the air surrounding him

— ABORT MISSION

— it's his special move -- the mercury forms a hand that aims for your worst ticklish spots, nozel's face neutral as if he isn't about to torture you

— and you very well know he's merciless so you do the one thing you can: 🏃💨

— you now have one(1) fear

licht.

— you'd think this genius had it all figured out

— turns out he's as big of a simp as we all knew he was </3

— "oh, the rechargeable tampon 300? are there sizes? how many would you like, love? last time there were a million sizes of pads and this old lady tried explaining it all to me and it was so bad."

— look me in the eye and say you're going to do this literal ray of sunshine like that smfh

— his face is SO red when he returns, immediately falling on top of you

— "nope, never going back there again ever."

— and you're just snickering like, "oh, did you run into the old lady again?"

— "yes!! i did!!! she laughed at me (y/n), she laughed at me i swear i have never been this humiliated, why are you so cruel--"

— so you're trying to stop wheezing bc you're supposed to bribe him with kisses now, wrapping your arms around his torso in a back hug that he dodges

— "no, i hereby revoke your cuddle privileges."

— he looks like the embodiment of "no talk me angy"

— "whaaaat no you can't do that, i won't let you trample all over my human rights like that 😤🖐️"

— sis he's used to your bs by now 😔 "that's literally not a human right?? what are you taking about 😐"

— "you're an elf, go ask lumiere this counts as cruelty and maltreatment and injustic--"

— he won't budge, have fun sleeping on the couch tonight 👏👏

— no bc he's gonna pick you up and bring you to the bed when you're asleep and claim that you came yourself sleepwalking in the morning, he's so in love it makes him look stupid 😅

yuno.

— can smell your bs from a mile away, this one

— which is why you've got to convince him you're on the verge of death unless you get this certain product

— klaus and mimosa bully him into going as well, both of them in on it

— "how can call yourself a good boyfriend if you can't assist (y/n) through this gruesome ordeal, yuno? as your senpai did i fall short? did i fail to teach you of the important things in life? for example the squeaky clean-a vageen-a?"

— he returns to find you, mimosa, klaus, and langris playing the floor is lava, jumping all around the headquarters like monkeys while captain vangeance keeps score 😌✨

— "you didn't find it? i wonder why,"

— if you think he's gonna take that lmaoo "maybe because it doesn't exist?"

— genuinely tries to look pissed, but his ears are so red that he almost whines at your cruelty

— just when you think he's too embarrassed to pull anything backhanded a gust of wind takes you wobbling upwards, controlled by a simple flick of his wrist

— ruins your hair on purpose, bastard

— "you owe me so many cuddles for that,"

— holds an actual grudge until you manage to placate him with the promise of cuddles and food (how you gonna keep it down after he flung you around in a whole tornado 😐)

[masterlist]

[pink-peony-princess]

Isn't She Lovely?

"Please, please go to sleep" I whispered desperately, as I rocked back and forth in the small room. Gracie our one month old daughter was distraught, I'd tried everything feeding her burping her, changing her, laying her down, rocking her and still she was crying. I was at the end of my wit and I really didn't know what to do. To make matters worse Shawn, the love of my life and husband of six months had gone out for the day with his little sister and even though he told me before he left to call if I needed abything, I was reluctant. This was his first full day off from work as an E.R. doctor in almost a month. Normally he'd spend the day with me and Gracie and he'd tried to do the same thing today, but I was insistent when his sister contacted him that he spend the day with her. The last thing I wanted was to get in the way of that.

But I was really starting to regret it now. It felt like no matter what I did, nothing would stop the unchecked sobs that left poor Gracie's mouth, her face was red and blotchy from the tears and her skin clammy from the force she was exuding.

"Sshh, sshh," I lulled, trying to comfort her, but it was no use, my voice could barely be heard over her cries. Finally I gave up, placing her in her crib which only caused her to cry harder and went down stairs to find the formula which we kept on hand for times like this when there was no other solution. For some reason she always seemed to settle when she was fed formula. Strange, maybe, but it worked, and I wasn't about to say no to something that might calm her down. We were both exhausted.

I made the bottle quickly rushing around the kitchen, conscious of the fact that she was upstairs squawking her little head off. I was just heading back up stairs when I remembered her dummy on the counter and turned back to get it,but there must have been water on the floor from when I was rinsing the bottle that I'd somehow missed, because the last thing I was aware of was falling and not being able to catch myself, whacking my head on the counter,landing harshly on the floor and then black.

The next thing I was aware of was the vague sound of a lock being turned and then a shadow in the doorway to the kitchen which I couldn't quite make out in my hazy state before a frantic voice yelled out, way to loudly for my pounding head,

"Shawn, you need to get in here now!"

There was the sound of quick footsteps, only making my head hurt more, before Shawn was squatting down so his face was level with mine. I had never seen him look as worried in all the time I'd known him than he did right now. His brows furrowed, mouth tipped slightly downwards as he studied me.

"Baby, what happened? Why is Gracie crying? Are you okay?" he fired question after question at me, but my brain was still too frazzled to take much in.It felt like when you wake up from an extra long nap and you're all disoriented. And all I could take in was pain, both my head and side were throbbing and I couldn't help but hold my side around my ribs in a weak attempt to stop it hurting.

The look of concern only grew at my silence. Finally the gravity of the situation actually hit me and it all came flooding back, Gracie's crying,my unsuccessful attempts to pacify her, the kitchen and my fall.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sobbed into his chest, tears now streaming down my face. "It's okay baby, tell me what happend? Aaliyah would you go and get Gracie please?" he asked, looking up at her from the floor.

She nodded, and left the room quickly ,leaving us alone momentarily.

"I'm so sorry," I continued to mumble into his chest between sobs as Shawn rubbed soothing circles into my back, waiting patiently for me to calm down enough to explain what had happened. I must have looked like a complete mess.

"Baby, I'm not mad, I promise," he whispered leaning back again to look at me. "I'm just worried, you scared me so bad," he admitted, kissing the top of my head. "Now what happened?"

I just looked at him still feeling overwhelmed and guilty. How could I let this happen?

"Tell me what happend?" he whispered again, brushing the hair out of my face.

"I was coming down here to get the formula, she's been crying all day, and I'm so tired and sore Shawn!" I hiccupped.

"Why didn't you tell me, honey? You should have called or texted," he half scolded, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"And I feel so stupid, I can't even get my own baby to feed properly and she's crying all the time, and my scar is excruciating," I cried. My C-section scar had been hurting for a little over a week now and when I'd looked at it, it looked red and I knew it was probably infected, but I was too scared to do anything about it, so this was the first time Shawn was hearing about it.

"Hey, the last thing you are is stupid, I don't ever want to hear you say that again," he spoke fiercely. "You are the mother of my child and the love of my life." He kissed my hair softly.

"Can I have a look?" he asked, moving to lift my top up.

I nodded, letting him know it was okay.

He lifted the fabric and there was the scar looking more red and angry than ever.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me?" he asked searching my face. The worst part wasn't the pain I was in, but the fact that he looked genuinely hurt that I hadn't asked him for help. I really couldn't tell you what had stopped me, but the way he looked at me now made me feel so guity. I let out a whimper as he gently touched the area surrounding the wound testing for I don't know what.

"Baby this is infected. You'll need antibiotics and cream for this," he explained, moving to sit on the floor in front of me, taking my hands in his.

"Promise me next time, you'll tell me okay. Even if you think it's nothing okay. You know I'm always here for you." he squeezed my hands gently as he spoke. I nodded not trusting my voice as I felt a new wave of tears coming.

"I didn't want to worry you, you were out with Liyah, and I didn't want to bother you." I paused unsure of how to go on.

Thankfully he seemed to understand and broke the silence for me.

"You've knocked your head on something honey, you've got a small cut above your left eyebrow." He reached up to the bench grabbing the kitchen towel roll and tapping at my face gently, before showing me the red paper.

"It's not as bad as it could be, but I'll still need to clean it."

"I can do it," I insisted. He frowned, clearly disapproving. He knew I didn't like it when he went all medical on me.

"Lilah, no offense baby, but you're in no state to be doing anything medically related right now. You're clearly exhausted, you've hit your head and from the way you're holding your side I'd bet you've bruised a few ribs."

"Come on, let's go into the bathroom and we'll get you cleaned up and you can have a nice long bath, with some Epsom salts and I'll see about getting you on some antibiotics and cleaning your scar okay?" he smiled encouragingly.

I went to open my mouth, but he stopped me mid-word, holding his finger to my lips with a smile. "No buts, I know you don't like it when I worry, but it's my job, both as your husband and as a doctor, please let me do it."

He led me into the bathroom, helping me to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, before reaching up into the cabinet and pulling the giant first aid box down.

"You know," he spoke as he opened it up and surveyed the contents for a moment. "Asking for help doesn't make you a bad mum. If anything it'll make you an even better mum- if that's even possible," he smiled. "Because you will have the support there when you need it. Me your mum, my mum even are Aaliyah are all here for you Lilah."

I dropped my head as what he was saying sank in. I could have avoided all of this if I'd just swallowed my pride and asked for help.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again.

"Baby, you don't need to be sorry," he murmured coming over to stand in from of me holding what looked like cotton swabs. "Head up for me honey," he spoke, tapping under my chin with his pointer finger.

I lifted my head as he asked and made the mistake of looking him in the eye. That was all it took for another round of tears fuelled by exhaustion and humiliation to well up as I faught to stop them falling again.

"I'm just going to wipe the blood away so I can see the cut a little better okay?" he asked, stepping closer so his legs were on either side of mine. I nodded, trying to be brave.

Once he'd cleaned by head up and placed a plaster on it for good measure he turned his attention to my scar. "Lift your top for me again Princess?" he asked as he turned to get more cotton swabs, disinfectant and cream from the box.

"This is going to sting, I'm sorry honey," he warned as he poured the yellowish liquid onto one of the swabs and moved to pull the fabric of my shirt up further."Ready?" he asked, watching me carefully.

I nodded,clenching my fists. "Try to relax honey," he encouraged, dropping my shirt and placing a comforting hand on my thigh instead.

Sure enough as soon as the liquid came into contact with my skin I wanted to scream.

"Deep breathes Lilah," he encouraged as he wiped the area a few times. "Nearly done."

I tried my hardest to not move, but I couldn't help he whimper that slipped through my lips. Shawn frowned, his hand giving my thigh a slight squeeze.

"What do you want to have for dinner tonight bub? I could do Carbonara?" I knew he was trying to distract me from what he was doing, but I was greatful. It gave me something to do other than focus on the intense burning that was still eminating from my stomach.

"That would be nice," I smiled, I could feel my stomach rumbling at the thought.

"Okay, we'll do that and we can have a movie night how does that sound?" he asked as he finally removed the swab,and placed it in the bin.

"How you feeling Lilah?" Aaliyah asked a few minutes later, stepping into the bathroom as Shawn wiped some soothing care onto the area.

Gracie was now asleep in her arms, no hint of the earlier upset apparent on her face. She looked like a sleeping angel.

Shawn placed the cream on the counter and went over to take Gracie gently from his sister kissing her softly on the head as she fidgeted slightly getting comfortable in her daddy's arms. I could just make out him speaking softly to her, " I heard you've been giving your mommy a hard time little lady, maybe save that for when daddy's home so we can play two man defense," he whispered.

I couldn't help but laugh at the way he spoke as though she could understand everything he was saying.

"Hey, who said you could listen in, this is a private conversation between me and my girl." he hugged her closer to his chest a fake scowl on his face as she grabbed a fist full of his shirt in her sleep,

"She's half mine," I quipped back with a grin.

"Touche," he smiled, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a feather light touch watching as she scrunched it in response.

"How about you take a bath honey, I'll start getting dinner going," he suggested as he carefully passed Gracie back Aaliyah.

"But what about Gracie?" I asked.

"Her aunty has her hey baby," Aaliyah smiled down at Gracie from the doorway.

I smiled, I knew that between Aaliyah and Shawn they could handle her, so I nodded and they both left, though Shawn not before placing a soft kiss to my temple and whispering an "I love you."

...

It was several hours later and Shawn had made dinner and put Gracie down, Aaliyah having left leaving Shawn and I to cuddle on the sofa 10 things I hate about you playing softly on the T.V. though I was so tired from the day's events that I wasn't really paying attention to the movie, instead enjoying the warmth radiating from Shawn his soft breathing lulling me further into sleep.

"I'm sorry if you felt like you couldn't tell me," he murmured as he traced patterns into my thigh.

I sighed, snuggling into him more.

"It's okay, it's me, it's just all new, and I guess I wasn't expecting it to be so hard," I admitted.

"You know, I'm always here right, whenever you need me, my family comes before anything."

"I know." And I did know, Shawn was never exactly quiet about his love of protectiveness of us.

"You and Gracie are my life," he spoke.

Just as he said that a soft whine started from down the hallway signalling that she'd woken.

I sighed going to get up,"No," he spoke firmly, pushing me gently so I was forced back into my little cacoon on the sofa. "I'll go."

"Are you sure, I'm fine to get her," I started.

"Babe, you've had a tough day,let me look after my girls," he pleaded with the best puppy dog eyes I'd ever seen, even for him.

I nodded, letting him go, watching as he made his way down the hall and into our daughter's room.

A few moments later he returned, little Gracie in nothing but a nappy due to the hot summer night, her whines having turned into soft little grunts as she lay on Shawn's shoulder.

"Hi bubba," I sang as Shawn sat down again, moving her to his right shoulder so I could keep talking to her. "What are you doing up so late ha? You're gonna be so tired in the morning little lady." As if on cue she started crying again, more forcefully than before.

I sat up holding my hands out ready to take her, a reflex reaction, but Shawn shook his head "I wanna try something," he told me, shifting her slightly and unbuttoning his shirt to show his toned chest. Her placed Gracie down and as soon as her skin touched his she settled. I smiled, watching the cute scene unfold before me.

"She knows daddy's got her and it's all okay,hey baby," he cooed softly and unapologetically, rubbing firm comforting circles into her back. "I can't believe we made her," he whispered in awe minutes later when she'd fallen back to sleep, resting soundly on Shawn.

"I can, but isn't she lovely," I moved to ever so softly stroke her hair, it was like angel's hair, still perfect,she was perfect, still so innocent, oblivious to the big bad world outside our perfect little family.

"She's the most lovely girl in the world, she takes after her mommy like that," Shawn smiled, turning to peak me on the lips. And in that moment I felt that everything in the world was right. That no matter what happened I would always have my perfect little family and that was all I needed.

[pinkpeonyprincessblog]

Isn't She Lovely?

"Please, please go to sleep" I whispered desperately, as I rocked back and forth in the small room. Gracie our one month old daughter was distraught, I'd tried everything feeding her burping her, changing her, laying her down, rocking her and still she was crying. I was at the end of my wit and I really didn't know what to do. To make matters worse Shawn, the love of my life and husband of six months had gone out for the day with his little sister and even though he told me before he left to call if I needed abything, I was reluctant. This was his first full day off from work as an E.R. doctor in almost a month. Normally he'd spend the day with me and Gracie and he'd tried to do the same thing today, but I was insistent when his sister contacted him that he spend the day with her. The last thing I wanted was to get in the way of that.

But I was really starting to regret it now. It felt like no matter what I did, nothing would stop the unchecked sobs that left poor Gracie's mouth, her face was red and blotchy from the tears and her skin clammy from the force she was exuding.

"Sshh, sshh," I lulled, trying to comfort her, but it was no use, my voice could barely be heard over her cries. Finally I gave up, placing her in her crib which only caused her to cry harder and went down stairs to find the formula which we kept on hand for times like this when there was no other solution. For some reason she always seemed to settle when she was fed formula. Strange, maybe, but it worked, and I wasn't about to say no to something that might calm her down. We were both exhausted.

I made the bottle quickly rushing around the kitchen, conscious of the fact that she was upstairs squawking her little head off. I was just heading back up stairs when I remembered her dummy on the counter and turned back to get it,but there must have been water on the floor from when I was rinsing the bottle that I'd somehow missed, because the last thing I was aware of was falling and not being able to catch myself, whacking my head on the counter,landing harshly on the floor and then black.

The next thing I was aware of was the vague sound of a lock being turned and then a shadow in the doorway to the kitchen which I couldn't quite make out in my hazy state before a frantic voice yelled out, way to loudly for my pounding head,

"Shawn, you need to get in here now!"

There was the sound of quick footsteps, only making my head hurt more, before Shawn was squatting down so his face was level with mine. I had never seen him look as worried in all the time I'd known him than he did right now. His brows furrowed, mouth tipped slightly downwards as he studied me.

"Baby, what happened? Why is Gracie crying? Are you okay?" he fired question after question at me, but my brain was still too frazzled to take much in.It felt like when you wake up from an extra long nap and you're all disoriented. And all I could take in was pain, both my head and side were throbbing and I couldn't help but hold my side around my ribs in a weak attempt to stop it hurting.

The look of concern only grew at my silence. Finally the gravity of the situation actually hit me and it all came flooding back, Gracie's crying,my unsuccessful attempts to pacify her, the kitchen and my fall.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sobbed into his chest, tears now streaming down my face. "It's okay baby, tell me what happend? Aaliyah would you go and get Gracie please?" he asked, looking up at her from the floor.

She nodded, and left the room quickly,leaving us alone momentarily.

"I'm so sorry," I continued to mumble into his chest between sobs as Shawn rubbed soothing circles into my back, waiting patiently for me to calm down enough to explain what had happened. I must have looked like a complete mess.

"Baby, I'm not mad, I promise," he whispered leaning back again to look at me. "I'm just worried, you scared me so bad," he admitted, kissing the top of my head. "Now what happened?"

I just looked at him still feeling overwhelmed and guilty. How could I let this happen?

"Tell me what happend?" he whispered again, brushing the hair out of my face.

"I was coming down here to get the formula, she's been crying all day,and I'm so tired and sore Shawn!" I hiccupped.

"Why didn't you tell me, honey? You should have called or texted," he half scolded, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"And I feel so stupid, I can't even get my own baby to feed properly and she's crying all the time, and my scar is excruciating," I cried. My C-section scar had been hurting for a little over a week now and when I'd looked at it, it looked red and I knew it was probably infected, but I was too scared to do anything about it, so this was the first time Shawn was hearing about it.

"Hey, the last thing you are is stupid, I don't ever want to hear you say that again," he spoke fiercely. "You are the mother of my child and the love of my life." He kissed my hair softly.

"Can I have a look?" he asked, moving to lift my top up.

I nodded, letting him know it was okay.

He lifted the fabric and there was the scar looking more red and angry than ever.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me?" he asked searching my face. The worst part wasn't the pain I was in, but the fact that he looked genuinely hurt that I hadn't asked him for help. I really couldn't tell you what had stopped me, but the way he looked at me now made me feel so guity. I let out a whimper as he gently touched the area surrounding the wound testing for I don't know what.

"Baby this is infected. You'll need antibiotics and cream for this," he explained, moving to sit on the floor in front of me, taking my hands in his.

"Promise me next time, you'll tell me okay. Even if you think it's nothing okay. You know I'm always here for you." he squeezed my hands gently as he spoke. I nodded not trusting my voice as I felt a new wave of tears coming.

"I didn't want to worry you, you were out with Liyah, and I didn't want to bother you." I paused unsure of how to go on.

Thankfully he seemed to understand and broke the silence for me.

"You've knocked your head on something honey, you've got a small cut above your left eyebrow." He reached up to the bench grabbing the kitchen towel roll and tapping at my face gently, before showing me the red paper.

"It's not as bad as it could be, but I'll still need to clean it."

"I can do it," I insisted. He frowned, clearly disapproving. He knew I didn't like it when he went all medical on me.

"Lilah, no offense baby, but you're in no state to be doing anything medically related right now. You're clearly exhausted, you've hit your head and from the way you're holding your side I'd bet you've bruised a few ribs."

"Come on, let's go into the bathroom and we'll get you cleaned up and you can have a nice long bath, with some Epsom salts and I'll see about getting you on some antibiotics and cleaning your scar okay?" he smiled encouragingly.

I went to open my mouth, but he stopped me mid-word, holding his finger to my lips with a smile. "No buts, I know you don't like it when I worry, but it's my job, both as your husband and as a doctor, please let me do it."

He led me into the bathroom, helping me to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, before reaching up into the cabinet and pulling the giant first aid box down.

"You know," he spoke as he opened it up and surveyed the contents for a moment. "Asking for help doesn't make you a bad mum. If anything it'll make you an even better mum- if that's even possible," he smiled. "Because you will have the support there when you need it. Me your mum, my mum even are Aaliyah are all here for you Lilah."

I dropped my head as what he was saying sank in. I could have avoided all of this if I'd just swallowed my pride and asked for help.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again.

"Baby, you don't need to be sorry," he murmured coming over to stand in from of me holding what looked like cotton swabs. "Head up for me honey," he spoke, tapping under my chin with his pointer finger.

I lifted my head as he asked and made the mistake of looking him in the eye. That was all it took for another round of tears fuelled by exhaustion and humiliation to well up as I faught to stop them falling again.

"I'm just going to wipe the blood away so I can see the cut a little better okay?" he asked, stepping closer so his legs were on either side of mine. I nodded, trying to be brave.

Once he'd cleaned by head up and placed a plaster on it for good measure he turned his attention to my scar. "Lift your top for me again Princess?" he asked as he turned to get more cotton swabs, disinfectant and cream from the box.

"This is going to sting, I'm sorry honey," he warned as he poured the yellowish liquid onto one of the swabs and moved to pull the fabric of my shirt up further."Ready?" he asked, watching me carefully.

I nodded,clenching my fists. "Try to relax honey," he encouraged, dropping my shirt and placing a comforting hand on my thigh instead.

Sure enough as soon as the liquid came into contact with my skin I wanted to scream.

"Deep breathes Lilah," he encouraged as he wiped the area a few times. "Nearly done."

I tried my hardest to not move, but I couldn't help he whimper that slipped through my lips. Shawn frowned, his hand giving my thigh a slight squeeze.

"What do you want to have for dinner tonight bub? I could do Carbonara?" I knew he was trying to distract me from what he was doing, but I was greatful. It gave me something to do other than focus on the intense burning that was still eminating from my stomach.

"That would be nice," I smiled, I could feel my stomach rumbling at the thought.

"Okay, we'll do that and we can have a movie night how does that sound?" he asked as he finally removed the swab,and placed it in the bin.

"How you feeling Lilah?" Aaliyah asked a few minutes later, stepping into the bathroom as Shawn wiped some soothing care onto the area.

Gracie was now asleep in her arms, no hint of the earlier upset apparent on her face. She looked like a sleeping angel.

Shawn placed the cream on the counter and went over to take Gracie gently from his sister kissing her softly on the head as she fidgeted slightly getting comfortable in her daddy's arms. I could just make out him speaking softly to her, " I heard you've been giving your mommy a hard time little lady, maybe save that for when daddy's home so we can play two man defense," he whispered.

I couldn't help but laugh at the way he spoke as though she could understand everything he was saying.

"Hey, who said you could listen in, this is a private conversation between me and my girl." he hugged her closer to his chest a fake scowl on his face as she grabbed a fist full of his shirt in her sleep,

"She's half mine," I quipped back with a grin.

"Touche," he smiled, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a feather light touch watching as she scrunched it in response.

"How about you take a bath honey, I'll start getting dinner going," he suggested as he carefully passed Gracie back Aaliyah.

"But what about Gracie?" I asked.

"Her aunty has her hey baby," Aaliyah smiled down at Gracie from the doorway.

I smiled, I knew that between Aaliyah and Shawn they could handle her, so I nodded and they both left, though Shawn not before placing a soft kiss to my temple and whispering an "I love you."

...

It was several hours later and Shawn had made dinner and put Gracie down, Aaliyah having left leaving Shawn and I to cuddle on the sofa 10 things I hate about you playing softly on the T.V. though I was so tired from the day's events that I wasn't really paying attention to the movie, instead enjoying the warmth radiating from Shawn his soft breathing lulling me further into sleep.

"I'm sorry if you felt like you couldn't tell me," he murmured as he traced patterns into my thigh.

I sighed, snuggling into him more.

"It's okay, it's me, it's just all new, and I guess I wasn't expecting it to be so hard," I admitted.

"You know, I'm always here right, whenever you need me, my family comes before anything."

"I know." And I did know, Shawn was never exactly quiet about his love of protectiveness of us.

"You and Gracie are my life," he spoke.

Just as he said that a soft whine started from down the hallway signalling that she'd woken.

I sighed going to get up,"No," he spoke firmly, pushing me gently so I was forced back into my little cacoon on the sofa. "I'll go."

"Are you sure, I'm fine to get her," I started.

"Babe, you've had a tough day,let me look after my girls," he pleaded with the best puppy dog eyes I'd ever seen, even for him.

I nodded, letting him go, watching as he made his way down the hall and into our daughter's room.

A few moments later he returned, little Gracie in nothing but a nappy due to the hot summer night, her whines having turned into soft little grunts as she lay on Shawn's shoulder.

"Hi bubba," I sang as Shawn sat down again, moving her to his right shoulder so I could keep talking to her. "What are you doing up so late ha? You're gonna be so tired in the morning little lady." As if on cue she started crying again, more forcefully than before.

I sat up holding my hands out ready to take her, a reflex reaction, but Shawn shook his head "I wanna try something," he told me, shifting her slightly and unbuttoning his shirt to show his toned chest. Her placed Gracie down and as soon as her skin touched his she settled. I smiled, watching the cute scene unfold before me.

"She knows daddy's got her and it's all okay,hey baby," he cooed softly and unapologetically, rubbing firm comforting circles into her back. "I can't believe we made her," he whispered in awe minutes later when she'd fallen back to sleep, resting soundly on Shawn.

"I can, but isn't she lovely," I moved to ever so softly stroke her hair, it was like angel's hair, still perfect,she was perfect, still so innocent, oblivious to the big bad world outside our perfect little family.

"She's the most lovely girl in the world, she takes after her mommy like that," Shawn smiled, turning to peak me on the lips. And in that moment I felt that everything in the world was right. That no matter what happened I would always have my perfect little family and that was all I needed.

[artistclock]

WHEN IT WILL BE ME?

By: Cherry Mae Parohinog

Be the best or be nothing at all. Remember that no one remembers the second best or the rest for that matter. Aim for the top place. Always.

I had it in my head that individuals were constantly looking for attention and a good reputation. We lived for their compliments. Who doesn't like to be complimented? One positive word from you, they can live for a day. One positive sentence forms you, then they can build an altar and worship you. They can even kiss your feet.

"Our school's pride! Let us give Mr. Merritt a standing ovation! The well-known art competition was held in Manila. And, of course, congrats to Ms. Hernandez on her second-place finish. Thank you very much! Mr. Merritt, top one!”

Roaring applause was given by the crowd to us and especially to him. I don’t know if it’s because he’s drop-dead gorgeous or because he won. I bet my life, it’s the former.

When my name was called, I couldn't help but notice the host's low tone. See, second place means nothing. I also stood up and clapped. I didn't clap because I wanted to; I clapped because it was my initial inclination, and it was required by the program. And I should, because I'm one of the winners!

“Congratulations, Ms. Hernandez. Your arts are good and getting better.” The host mumbled to me and smiled with her lips pursed.

Comparative versus superlative adjective, I see.

Her words could no longer be heard due to the great weakness of her voice and the crowd’s loudness. I accept her compliment with a nod of my head. It would have been lovely to hear her praises, but they didn't last long in my ears. Her words sound rehearsed.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” I return the smile she gave to me.

Another medal and trophy to be cover with dust.

James Austin Merritt, the winner, in his custom-tailored tux from the back of the host, sashaying his way to us. His chiseled arms are highlighted by his serge coat. His tousled hair, crimson lips, flushed cheeks, and metal timepiece. His deportment now matched his brusqueness and arrogance so well. He looks expensive and extremely confident.

“I know I mentioned it before, but let me congratulate you again,” he says as he clears his throat. “Congratulations, Ms. Olivia,” He's in top form, with his cheeky smile on his face, and his right palms outstretched in front of me, indicating that I should take it.

This is the type of guy I should avoid.

“You, too, Mr. Merritt. You brought the school’s name again. I’m so honored to join you in that dazzling journey we had in Manila. You’re the best companion.” I clasped his hand in mine and smiled at him.

The words taste so wrong on my tongue. I can even taste the bitterness.

“You two did an outstanding job. And this handsome prodigy, oh, darling, make us prouder,” the host taps his right cheek. She has the look of a proud mother. I almost puked when I saw how sweet it was.

He turns his face toward me, allowing me to get a good look at his aristocratic features. “Not at all, Ma'am. Olivia is here, and she is the best at everything. As with anything! Did you happen to notice what she used in the competition? She used oil paint as well as poster paint! The beauty of her artwork is breathtaking! I'm lost for words to describe how stunning and talented she is. I was startled and mesmerized as I stared at her. I-I'm referring to her painting,” His prominent cheekbones turning a slight shade of red.

I stifle a little chuckle. I'd like to believe him. His comments, despite the oozing tone of sarcasm and stupidity, ring true in my ears. I only hope Mrs. Ronald, the host, agrees with us, although I doubt it. Her sour expression tells me so.

My hands are itching to hit him - no, beat him! Hmm… maybe later, Mr. Merritt.

“What exactly are you saying, Mr. Merritt? You won, which implies you're the best. What would happen to our department if you weren't there? A strong and confident man. Your artistic prowess is out of this world,” she shook her head, wanting to put a stop to the conversation.

Mrs. Roland may believe that a man has all the power, but this is not the case. I wholeheartedly disagree. I believe that women can accomplish just as much as men.

It appears to me that I am not as important as him and that I was only placed there to fill the gap. My achievement and trophy mean nothing to them.

“No, no, Ma’am. She’s also a winner in the competition too. I was so amazed at how good she was that I was ready to go home crying that day,” He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances over me. His left dimples popping out.

“Alright, Austin, if you say so. I'll leave you two alone now. I’ll just talk to someone on the other side.” She gracefully turns her back on us. Her sour expression remained.

“What was the point of that?” You want to court me?” My arms are folded on my chest.

His mouth fell open, and his brown eyes were as large as saucers and almost out of their sockets. He has a peculiar appearance. I nearly roll on the carpet!

“No. Never, Miss, but you can thank me though. And then I'll say, 'Welcome, Olivia.' How does that sound?”

I groan. As I looked at him, I wondered how someone could be so dumb.

“I appreciate your kind words, Mister. Hearing that made my day.” I mock him by pressing my palm to my chest and bowing slightly.

He mumbles an expletive under his breath. “Stop dissing me, please. The competition ended well and unbiasedly. And are we already friends, or am I imagining things? But for me, we’re already friends. We can help each other. We can also create beautiful artwork. What do you think?” He wiggles his eyebrow. As a result, he is quite attractive; otherwise, he would resemble Mr. Bean.

“No, we're not friends, and we never will be. Well, unless you are the firm believer of ‘keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer, then we can be friends,” I shrug my shoulder acting as a cool kid. I just need myself and no more.

His stares are so intense that I almost cringe.

“If that’s what you want, then fine. We’re enemies now.”

Perhaps it is true that when the universe aligns, there is a force that allows two opposing things to become one.

I let him see every inch of my heart.

On the floor was a jumble of canvases, paintbrushes, and paint colors. Images of hazy landscape sceneries, abstract paintings, and random people's portraits are hung, while some are simply lying against the wall. I watched him in the corner as he was serious about what he was doing. It’s like he’s the only one in the room and his painting is the most important thing in the world. His hand seems to be dancing to a rhythm that only he can hear. The veins in his arms protruded when the paintbrush kissed the canvas. His brow wrinkled and his crimson lips parted slightly. It's amazing to look at him in such a way that you wouldn't believe he's puerile and truant.

Let’s make art together. No rivalry between us.

His words break the high sturdy wall I built for anyone to protect myself.

“I'm hungry,” I said, although I'm not. All I want is for him to pay attention to me as well.

“Then, eat. I don't have your mouth,” he says. He didn't even look at me. He's really serious about what he's doing.

“You’re arts is romantically beautiful, Austin. It never fails to amaze me. I want to make you a statue,”

“Really? That's very thoughtful of you, Olivia. Thank you for your backhanded compliments. It's much appreciated. And I think... I'm going to cry. Could you please hand me a tissue?” He retorted.

Oh, God! Give me more patience.

Dropping my head back against my chair and dragging my breath through my nose. I prop my right elbow on the armrest and lean my head against my hand.

“Have you read what was posted in the bulletin? They’ll have competition again. Maybe you'd like to join?” Now he's focused on me and telling me something else. His words were vague in my ears. In a trance, I'm staring at a line of ants scurrying around the wall. What if I lose once more? A second-place finisher again? I don't want to lose. For once, I'd want to be on top. No, I always want to be at the top. No one but myself! The best of the rest!

I'm a sad little girl who craves attention and longs to escape reality. My anxiety began to attack.

I recall my father yelling at me, "I won't look at your trashy trophy, and I'm not proud!" He claimed that painting is not a career and that I cannot earn a living from it. The benefit here is that dad let me choose the course I wanted, which is why I chose fine arts, but how could this freedom feel so lonely?

He spews his venom at me for not being the best. I held my tongue and waited until he was satisfied with the damage. I can't blame him; he's one of the most competitive people I've ever met. He was distraught. It’s like I’m trying to hold hot water in my bare hands. So cruel. He has such a terrible opinion of me. I value the arts in all of their forms.

I believe in the power of words and their ability to affect people. They have the power to make or break you. They can even kill you.

“You’re worthless! You deserved everything bad that happened to you! All the hate! Why won’t you just die?!” I screamed as I stood in front of the mirror, pointing to myself.

And he made me feel unloved and unworthy.

I was immersed in thought when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

He looks at me as if he’s reading my mind and my soul, “Hey, I got you now. You’re doing your absolute best. Stop trying to control everything around you. Stop it. Stop thinking about the outcome of every situation, just enjoy the moment. Don’t be hard on yourself, Olivia.” His tone is gentle.

“If everyone turns their back on you, then look at me. I’m your number one fan, remember? I hope that’s enough.” He mumbled.

In response, I gave him my genuine smile.

People have asked me if I’m okay with placing second or third, and I’ve always said yes. That's the response they're looking for. They don't care about me. They simply want to pique their interest. That's all there is to it. That's why, in the end, you're the only one left in the dark, bruised, and defeated.  You didn't get the kind of attention you were hoping for. Who would want to hear from someone like me? Nobody knows who I am. This is how the world works

Jesus! I sound like a petulant child.

The afternoon zephyr gently ruffled my hair a little. I'm seated in my school uniform on the far side of the school's reading sanctuary section's concrete gazebo, surrounded by trees whose leaves are already falling and scattering on the sidewalk. It's a peaceful spot. The sound of the page of the book I’ am reading hurt the silence of the surroundings.

It tells the story of a wise man who can't seem to find himself. He was enslaved to the standard that society and his family imposed on him. Because of his intelligence, he lacked a friend. His diary was his lone confidante. In this journal, he writes down all of his thoughts and the words that are stuck in his head.

Why do I have an affinity towards him? Perhaps because we are in a similar situation. I recognize myself in him and can relate to him. If he utilized a pen and paper to write down what was going through his mind. In turn, I used a paintbrush and a canvas to express my feelings and resentments in life.

I was so engrossed in my daydream that I didn't notice the mighty Austin lounging coolly against the jamb of the gazebo, hands in his pockets, and chewing his bubble gum, which he even inflated and chewed again. Yes, he is sometimes gross. He chuckles awkwardly at me and takes the chocolate cupcake from his pocket. He uses his teeth to peel it off.

“I wish you a very happy birthday, Olivia. And I'm sorry I won't be singing you a happy birthday song. Now, Olivia, make a wish.”

I lock my gaze on him. I consider myself extremely blessed to have him. I close my eyes and whisper to the wind.

“Break those shackles, and watch me fly.”

My room opens with a loud bang, waking me up. I could see his familiar shape in my hazy eyes.

“Join the contest and show me what you've got.” He spoke it loudly and authoritatively. My father's actions surprised me. Isn't that the truth? I heard it very clear. My nails dug into the palms of my hands so deeply.

Take the risk or lose the chance. I'd go with the former, despite my reservations.

I shield my face from the light with my right hand. He, too, squints from the sun. I'm not sure why we decided to go for a walk in the middle of the day. I'm perspiring, and his neck is flushed. He unlocked the door for me when we arrived at the school's art studio. The door is excessively large and heavy. To open it, he must use all of his strength.

“How come this old door won't let a handsome man like me in? If this door is a woman, I'd say she's just trying to get my attention.” He winks at me as he turns to face me.

This man!

I take a seat next to him and maintain a comfortable distance between us. We're currently practicing. The crickets could be heard all around us.

To be honest, I had lost track of what made me happy. I've run out of ideas, motivation, and energy. I didn't have anything to look forward to. I close my eyes tightly.

“Yes, you’re doing it right. Stroke it slowly. Don’t get frustrated,”

“Everything is mediocre,” I scream, hurling the paintbrush. He took it and returned it to me.

“Slow progress is better than no progress at all, Olivia,”

“Easy for you to say. You’re famous. You’re so good. No, you’re the best! The greatest! Everyone loves you. And me, I’ am no one. A good-for-nothing daughter. Tell me… when it will be me?”

He blinks several times. Because of his heavy breathing, I notice his shoulders bouncing up. He's chewing his lower lip. In his eyes, I can feel his exasperation and sorrow. He reaches for my face and gently caresses my cheek.

“You know what, I think I should call it quits. My dreams are shattered all around me. From the start, everything is wrong. I can't function properly,” I grumble. I'm furious at myself.

I'm losing control of everything. I'm losing interest in things that used to excite me. It’s like I'm no longer a part of anything. My cheeks are flushed with tears.

“If that’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right. And don’t compare your artworks to mine, or everyone, that’s just deadly. Everyone has their uniqueness. You are your person,” he whispers.

Despite his words, I am still empty. I'm desperate to get this emotion out of my system.

“It isn't that simple.”

The opinions of those around us have an impact on how we perceive ourselves. Austin, on the other hand, is arrogant, harsh, and blunt, but he can be a dark knight in sparkling armor. He sees right through people. He lives his life to the fullest.

I stare out the window. The car was moving so fast that the trees we were passing through swiftly vanished from my vision. I'm leaning against to it. I believe we are all dissatisfied individuals. We wish for something that we don't have. We envy people and things in various ways and on various levels. We wish to be that person and live their life. We desire things to satisfy ourselves. People are usually asking for something good, yet they are frequently asking for something bad. We just don't notice it, or if we do, we're too afraid to acknowledge it. People are also cynical.

I'm extremely nervous right now. Inside, my toes wiggled into my shoes. I can even hear my heartbeat in my ears and a strong throb against my skull. I'm feeling nauseous. My heartbeat quickened as fear swelled in my chest. Austin, on the other hand, appears to be a lost child at the playground. His eyes are shining with enthusiasm.

Today is the competition day. I used to think of him as my enemy, my tough opponent. But suddenly things are different.

“I'm drowning in anxiety and fear. Who wants to swim with me?” I asked him. We were in the park at the time. I'm sitting on the concrete bench, watching the kids play.

“Me. I can even bring some colorful floaters. You want that?” he answered me while licking his lollipop.

I lift my eyes and stare at him. He was looking at a large artwork in front of us, arms akimbo. He has a carefree smile on his face.

“This is it! The world has to be ready. We are here now, ready to conquer them,” He has a devilish grin on his face.

"Don't live too much in our head, Olivia. This time you are not alone,” He added, and continued watching the artwork, "I will not allow you."

The overthinking sucks that drove me to do some irrational things, as well as my anxiety, which accompanies me around and feeds my fear, are still here. Now all I have to do is revalue myself to forgive and love myself better. I'm going to improve with time.

And he’s with me now. We are here now. This is our now. This is the reality.

“And Olivia, it’s always been you.”