#i already knew option 2 would sweep lol

[lovetransaction]

#you know. best of both options 1 & 2? he does hear Sam’s voicemail. he does come.#but by the time he gets there sam & dean are already off to see the faith healer.#his son is dying out there. he has no idea where Dean is.#meanwhile sam is thinking a constant mantra of ‘dad didn’t come why didn’t he come that makes it my job to fix this’#Sam already thinks John isn’t going to want to see him if they find him. and if Dean dies? literally unforgivable sin there.#so it’s a nice mix of fear and desperation and quiet boiling resentment that his dad isn’t coming to help.#all of this could have been solved if John just picked up the phone but he’s got some chronic need to Not.#can’t talk to his sons on the phone. he can only talk at them. they can only call and leave voicemails not knowing if he listens.#dysfunction to the max.#meanwhile I’d like to remind everyone that dean isn’t even aware that Sam called their dad. and that he doesn’t try to call John himself.#which combined with the comment from him about Sam leaving him in the hospital (to die???? Dean babygirl what is wrong with u.)#paints a very bleak pictures of the whole situation.#anyway that’s my headcanon for it. (via @quietwingsinthesky)

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[hageny]

Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman 

AN: Credit goes to @thinkingfixatingobsessing​ for the idea for point number one in this post. Also, this post is my lengthiest yet, but I promise it’s worth the read, lol.

1. Come Over?

This moment between Roman and Gerri is a small one, but presents an interesting thread that starts in this episode--Vaulter--and gets threaded into their phone sex scene in Safe Room. During his time working through the documents and foundations of Vaulter, Roman is stuck in the middle of the proxy battle and feeling the heat of the moment, which comes to a head in this scene. We see him wrestling with himself about what to do, throwing his phone a pathetic glance, hesitating, and then finally deciding to call Gerri for help. He divulges to her that he essentially has no clue what to do and throws out a weak ‘pivot to video’ idea that Gerri instantly reminds him was tried by the Vaulter team already and presumably fell flat. Finally, Roman breaks and asks her meekly, “Can you just come over? I want you in the room.” This is interesting because it is one of the first scenes where the show establishes the fact that Roman seeks out Gerri for comfort. This, of course, comes on the heels of their trip to Japan, so we can deduce that Roman has realized that Gerri could’ve screwed him but didn’t, and sees how he was exposed to her nurturing side when he needed it most. What’s interesting is how the dialogue in this scene mimics what comes later. He first asks her for her help, and when she balks at his request, he immediately says, “Yeah, could--yeah--fuck you!” and hangs up on her. The move from gentle and comforting to caustic is an interesting one, but it’s fascinating because for once it isn’t built into the scene to showcase that Roman needs degradation to achieve sexual pleasure. Here, he flies off the handle at Gerri, but when we think about this scene the reason why is obvious and not tied to sex: Roman gets angry because in his one weak moment the response he receives is not the sympathetic one he wants, and so he pivots back to caustic to shield himself later on. He knows that should Gerri brings this up later he can tell her he was fucking with her and didn’t mean it, but in truth, he did mean it--he did want her and need her, and Gerri didn’t understand this, and was too busy with things on her end to meet him where he needed her. Part of Roman’s hang ups, sexually, are tied to the degradation he experienced as a child, but there is also a link between his need for degradation and his realization that he never got the comfort he needed, so seeking insult was easier. He is a walking example of the quote, "All attention is good attention.” Because Roman never received the comfort he desired, he shields himself from rejection by pretending to be hardier than what he is and striving to be insulted, because to him, at this stage, it’s all the same. He could get a hug, but getting walloped and getting off are faster so he settles for that instead. This thread is later carried into the ‘shirt-button’ scene in Hunting, where Gerri walks up to Roman’s room to look in on him. Now, she has the understanding of him that is necessary to respond appropriately, and instead of berating him for being a mess she comforts him, and he responds not by pushing her away but accepting her gentility, however brief. Roman doesn’t so much need humiliation to get off--he only needs it because it’s all he thinks he deserves, and it’s served him well enough so far. It’s the key to his inability to have sex with his other girlfriends: it’s not that he can’t, it’s that sex requires intimacy and sensitivity, and Roman isn’t close enough to himself emotionally to comfortably tap into these feelings and deliver. 

2. Rejected.

As I’m re-watching the series in preparation for Season 3, there is a thread which is established early on between Kendall and Gerri that begins in Lifeboats and is expounded upon later in the show. We see Kendall at the helm of Waystar during Logan’s absence as he makes his infamous ‘Lifeboats’ speech, gathering his team together and asking for their help in moving Waystar into the future, inviting them to pool their ideas and deliver them to him, essentially attempting to depart from his father’s style of management by ostensibly establishing an ‘open door policy’ with his team. This move, however, is ironic, as immediately after this scene we have the scene between himself and Gerri, pictured above. Really, in hindsight, Kendall is as manipulative as Logan, but he is weaker in the sense that he is not as combative openly, and therefore comes across as a softer, better version of his father, which isn’t always true to his nature. We see Gerri follow Kendall after the meeting and tell him, “I want to talk options to you, okay? I’ve got some thoughts I’ve been working on for a long time--”. Kendall immediately interrupts her and replies, “I don’t want the sloppy seconds, Gerri. I’m taking five to think big.” When she presses the issue again, promising that she has some good ideas, he flat out rejects her without even listening to her, and it is here where we see shades of his father in himself. It’s also what makes Gerri’s manipulation of Kendall easier later on. We can deduce that this is not the first time that Gerri has been pushed to the sidelines by one of the Roy family members, and at a time when help is sorely needed--and on the heels of Kendall openly asking for it--he outright rejects Gerri’s and essentially makes it clear to her that her help is second-rate help--only useful to him when it can get him out of a tight squeeze, but not so useful that he believes her worth listening to when the stakes are higher. This ties into her relationship with Roman as well. While Roman is always showcased as being the one who needs her, if we pay attention we can clearly see that Gerri’s need for him is equal to his. Gerri has been a part of Waystar for decades--at one point in Pre-Nuptial commenting to Kendall that she and Frank are reminiscing about their first visit to Caroline’s estate in 1986--making her one of the most senior members of staff. But what she has--it is implied--never had is someone who genuinely valued her ideas and her input. This is also what she gets from Roman. She tells him to do something, he does it. She throws an idea out, he listens. He becomes her voice, often using the phrases, “Gerri thinks” or “Gerri says” during Season 2. Through Roman, we hear Gerri, and through Gerri we see Roman’s potential. They carry each other. Roman is always depicted by his family as being stupid, and yet who was smart enough to seek out advice from the one person with the most experience at Waystar aside from Logan? Not his siblings. Because they believe they know better, their ego will be their downfall. 

3. In Logan’s Shadow.

In Sad Sack Wasp Trap, we see shades of Gerri’s eventual betrayal of Kendall begin to take shape. Having tasted his first drops of power, real power, Kendall’s ego immediately starts to swell in little ways. We hear him telling Jess that he wants to do a run on the late-night TV circuit, having gotten the idea while traveling in L.A. Gerri reacts to this with disbelief, and Kendall retorts, “What does that mean? I was fuckin’ king of the Lampoon.” Kendall’s use of the word ‘king’ is used to purposefully emphasize the way he has begun to see himself--finally in the position he desired for so long, finally out of his father’s sphere of influence. His high is interrupted by Jess’ telling him that his father has dropped into the office and wants to see him. When Kendall asks Gerri if she knew about this, she denies this, but when he says, “Shouldn’t he have told you?” all she does is shrug coolly in his direction. This begs the question: did Gerri really not know? On the surface, it seems obvious she didn’t, but we have to consider that this moment comes right after Kendall’s complete disregard for her in the previous episode. Gerri’s motivation to help Kendall would be at a fairly low point, and what could be more amusing to her than to watch him fall flat on his face so quickly again, especially considering Logan’s outrage at Kendall’s decision to bring Stewy in to help their debt issue. Maybe she genuinely didn’t know, but given what she does later on, it would seem pertinent to wonder. 

4. Take the piss.

Later in Sad Sack Wasp Trap, Kendall finds out that his father has pissed on his carpet and brings Roman, Gerri, and Frank in to assess and discuss the situation. He starts by lecturing them about what could happen if people knew Logan had done this, pointing out that this bit of knowledge could spear the company’s already flagging public persona, and trying to use that as a way to keep his father from attending the RECNY ball. He tries to drop the responsibility for fixing the situation into Gerri’s hands, telling her she needs to talk to Logan and tell him that if he intends to come back he has to do so via the proper avenues, and that he can’t just show up on a whim. Gerri listens for a while, and eventually delivers a barb that is subtle but effective. She asks Kendall, “What did you do, Kendall, when you realized he’d done this?”, referring to Logan’s pissing incident. Kendall immediately falters, stuttering that he didn’t want to embarrass his father in front of Stewy and basically admitting he did nothing. The camera sweeps over her and Roman’s faces, and they give Kendall the same look, suggesting they are disappointed but not surprised at his ineffectiveness. This moment also mirrors what Roman does later in Vaulter, undercutting his brother in front of his father to get the result he wants. The point of Gerri’s remark is to showcase her opinion of him. To Gerri, Kendall is nothing but a papa’s boy with a golden spoon in his mouth, someone who wants the power but is unwilling to work for it. And who can really blame Kendall? Considering the way his father treats him, he has learned from Logan that working is one thing, but using a by-way to get to the top faster is better, and he attempts to see this come to fruition by taking control of a company he is ill-equipped to lead. Gerri’s disgust for Kendall is fairly obvious, but to Kendall’s great misfortune, he is a swimmer in a shark tank, completely out of his league in her waters. She is faster than him, more subtle, more cunning, and lacking in conscience enough that when she disposes of him later she feels no remorse. Kendall has bad traits but he is overall not a bad character, and we see his better parts shine when he is not chasing power. But to Gerri, his better characteristics are a moot point. She undercuts him later once again, and we see how she delights in what she’s doing, how his weakness and trusting nature to her are disgusting, and if anything make it easier for her to do what she does. While Roman makes her prove herself equal, playing with her, seeing if she can give back what he puts out, Kendall takes for granted her abilities, wanting only a menial servant, and sees himself eaten alive. 

5. I Will Guide Thy Hand.

During the RECNY ball, we find out--via Connor--the Kendall has plans to make a retirement announcement in Logan’s presence, allegedly so he can usurp the throne for himself. Though Kendall later denies this, we do know that he does not want his father to speak at the ball. Allegedly, this is out of ‘good will’, his concern for his father and the company mainly influencing his decision, but truthfully Kendall is also motivated by a desire to take hold of a position his father always had at the ball--as a speaker--and be on the receiving end of the adoration Logan is so used to. He wants to be seen by the public the way his father is: competent, powerful, totally in control; he also knows that there is a chance that Logan will declare himself CEO again, knocking Kendall from his throne--which eventually comes to fruition. Gerri knows this, is smart enough to intuit why Kendall is afraid, and is calm when Kendall once again comes to her for assistance, wanting her to handle his father. Unlike earlier, she doesn’t throw any barbs his way. She calmly promises to talk to Logan about his supposed speech and to try to dissuade him--while not so convincingly claiming she knew nothing about the speech at all to begin with. Instead of doing what she promised, she walks over to Logan and simply tells him, “Good luck tonight. Gonna knock it out of the park.” She gives him the motivation he needs to move forward with his plans, especially at a point where his health is so precarious. Gerri knows this, knows Logan well enough to understand that a little reassurance will ensure that Logan will do as planned and follow through with his decision. We see her later in the episode watching the whole thing play out during Logan’s speech, a self-satisfied smirk on her face, already knowing the end from the beginning. What we’re witnessing is the blooming of the flower on the end of the thread that started when Kendall disrespected her in Lifeboats. All he had to do to save himself was listen to Gerri, and yet he chose not to, believing he knew better than her how to reposition Waystar and lead the company into the future. He, who has been to rehab, fallen prey to his addictions and vices, and only played in the big leagues when he wanted to while Gerri--and the other members of Waystar--had to be there regardless of the circumstances in their personal lives. Again we can’t solely blame Kendall--he is the person his father has allowed him to be. We can also see that what Kendall lacks is the thing that makes Gerri so capable of remaining in power--detachment. Gerri is emotionally detached enough to do her job well and not worry about what amoral things she does to maintain her position of power. This is another trait she shares with Roman, who, after hearing how beleaguered the employees of Vaulter are, still guts the company and costs them their jobs without a second thought to the damage he is doing. With regard to her relationship with Kendall, for Gerri destroying him is not only easy but pleasurable. She knows that Kendall stupidly trusts her, and will remain none the wiser to her duplicitousness, and so she operates in the background, doing what she can to ensure he will lose what is so precious to him because of her--all while believing she did what she could to help him. This theme reminded me of the movie The Witch, hence the title of this particular post. Thomasin ends up in the hands of the Devil at the end, and--believing he will give her what she wants--she gives her soul to him. Like Kendall, she doesn’t realize that the person who is giving her what she wants is really taking everything, and she, like Kendall, is left with nothing in the end. Am I comparing Gerri to the Devil? Only superficially. She is certainly not totally like Satan, but from what we see here, she has the ability to operate like him: swiftly and maliciously. 

[lizzybeth1986]

I don't think you play TRR/TRH anymore but you should see what they did to Kiara in the newest chapter. It's so dumb and makes me so angry, especially considering the current climate of events. I've already seen people on Reddit be like "but we helped her overcome her trauma" (we didn't lol) and someone called her the c-word, very classy. Honestly PB's been low key racist in the past but all the stuff right now makes it high key...

(Apologies for the long post and not being able to place this under a cut)

I'm pretty glad I got these anons because truth be told I wasn't sure how many people - besides the few that I already knew were constantly speaking about Kiara's treatment in the books - would care enough to ask any questions about this. Most of the posts I saw expressed a disturbing eagerness to throw her under the bus, without exploring nuance or asking questions, and at this point I'm not very surprised.

I've always maintained that the treatment for Kiara is what happens when both the writers and the fandom are heartless, and these past few weeks have only been proof of that.

There are questions you could raise about this finale re: Kiara - questions almost no one seems to bother asking. I have three:

1. In this Coventus Nobilis...how is it that I see four Heads of House, and only one heir? 

2. If Kiara - who is not head of house - is supposed to represent Castelserraillian instead of her father Hakim (who presides over that estate), why do I not see Madeleine? Why do I not see Penelope? 

3. Why are we suddenly seeing Adeleide  popping up out of practically nowhere to rep Krona/Fydelia, and Landon conveniently rep-ping Portavira?  

Some of the answers to these questions lie in the questions themselves. Why else would Madeleine and Penelope not be present in this meeting - if it weren't to purposely distance them from this awful moment? After all, both of them have inbuilt subplots ready for the next book that would require interactions with the core group. How else do you think the writers could ensure we kept coddling them and pandering to them in Book 3, except by distancing them from this "betrayal"?

Why else would the narrative choose to pit Kiara - the lone woman of colour we'd been shitting on for most of this series - against Olivia - the white woman who has been given innumerable individual PoV scenes and her own mini-book (and whose reputation we had to help rebuild in said mini book whether we cared about her stupid duchy or not). 

Why else would they force Kiara to alert us mere minutes before the meeting begin, if not to distract us with crumbs ("See? At least we wrote her as warning you. Of course we don't hate her!"). 

Why else would you have Olivia and Kiara pitted against each other like this - if not to show these two women side by side, on opposing ends -  and compel us to believe that the white woman we spent 4.5 books propping up and pampering, is the most loyal one.  When in fact we have done absolutely nothing to deserve any fucking loyalty from Kiara or her family to begin with! (Ezekiel and his white bride notwithstanding).

What we finally got as a result, was a narrative that (as @queen-of-effing-everything summed it up when I discussed this with her) in one full sweep "glorifies Olivia, shields Madeleine and Penelope and sets up Kiara". Very few of us even noticed. And even if we did notice, is there any guarantee that we would care??

Remember how I mentioned in my last ask that I wished we expanded the same energy that we did with Aurora, to speak up against the ill-treatment of other black characters? Kiara was undoubtedly one of those.

After this, we as a fandom will speak very easily now of her "betrayal". We will call her the b-word and the c-word. We will boast of how we will "take her down" along with Adeleide and Landon and Bartie Sr. We'll boast about how we "never liked her" to begin with, as if doing so required some...idk exemplary foresight. We will make memes about how Olivia was "the only bitch we ever respected". We will make huge, sweeping claims about how Kiara was our "friend" and how (as you've mentioned, anon) we "helped her overcome her trauma" (!!!!) and claim by that token that  we were entitled to good treatment from her. I'm pretty sure when TRH3 finally comes out, her every word and action will be screenshot, put up on blogs, mocked and torn down just so we can write essays on how awful she is. 

Yet I saw very little of this energy in Book 3, where the MC could first emotionally manipulate her into supporting the Unity Tour, and where we actively suspected her  at a time when she was traumatized. At most there was some lukewarm acknowledgement of how she "deserves better", all while people still continued to write fanfic that positioned her as creepy and obsessed and villainous.  Almost no one had a problem with Savannah not acknowledging Kiara's earlier support of her, and in fact I'd seen posts that clubbed her with the other ladies of the court who likely "treated Savannah badly". Her father Hakim was made to join the tour alongside her by default, without the expectations that Landon/Emmeline and Godfrey/Adeleide were allowed to have, and the fandom was mysteriously silent about Hakim being made to "bow to his knees" in a way the others did not have to. Very few people even bothered to  notice or talk about how often Penelope was allowed to hold the MC's baby, or how Kiara was never really allowed to hold her even once. Which "friend" treats someone like this??

When I finally published this essay on the treatment meted out to Kiara especially in Book 3, what I got was a lot of neat, but ultimately hollow, little platitudes about how Kiara "deserved better" (How and in what way? Who knows, who cares). Out of those many many people who reblogged and responded, only a handful held the MC and Drake in particular (and Maxwell, who thought it appropriate to joke about "one suspect down") accountable for choosing to suspect and interrogate just her, and for showing ZERO remorse in forcing her to reopen those wounds. How is it that we can judge Kiara for this latest "betrayal", yet pretend that the MC and Drake had nothing to do with the pain THEY caused to her? How is it that this fandom was so fired up over her comments, yet would have such a weak, muted, carefully-generalized response to the screenshots where Drake was openly suspecting her and optionally  minimizing her trauma? 

Following that, why should we be entitled to good treatment from Kiara when we never really gave her even half as much?? Why is it so easy to divorce characters from their words and actions in Drake/MC/Maxwell's case, but so hard for a character like Kiara? (One may claim this is because Drake and Maxwell are potential co-protagonists, but the aforementioned essay already proves that you as a main character can get punished for not treating a mere side character with kindness).

Another thing that fascinates and repulses me even further is how the fandom has created myths around this one character, and how PB has constantly leaned into these "characteristics" even though the text itself tells an altogether different story:

1. Kiara is a snob. This is especially hilarious considering that she is established in Book 2 as being the only person who befriended Savannah before her departure and cared about what happened to her when she left. Never once in the books has she looked down on us for class-related issues, or outright mocked people for not knowing the languages she knew. In fact, she was the first person to acknowledge our skills if we showed any before Lythikos in Book 1. On the other hand, Penelope can be uppity and look down on us in Book 1 (there is even a dialogue option in Chapter 10 that leads to her calling us a "commoner wench") if we don't do well, and yet she's a cinnamon roll.  Olivia can engage in snobbish , entitled behaviour without the fandom having a problem just because she's their favourite. Madeleine can look down on us and pretend for 3/4ths of the social season that we're not worth her time yet somehow Kiara is the snob. Okay. Okay. 😐

2. Kiara is "obsessed with" Drake and constantly comes on to him. This is said by the same group of people who saw Olivia fucking Nevrakis plant a WHOLE FUCKING SMACKER on Liam's mouth, and said..nothing. Kiara on the other hand, has admired Drake's abs once, mentioned she'd always liked Drake once, spoken normally to him about his sister once, flirted with him once (Paris tea party), and ordered a wine from him when he was bartending. In the next book she either looks at him wistfully or admires his suit. Yet somehow she's the creepy, annoying, stalkerish. Okay. Ooookay. 😑

(This one was particularly damaging, because post the TRR3 hiatus, all efforts from PB were focused on reversing Kiara's position as an alternative LI. This included "confirming" on livestream that her affections were one-sided, at a time when Olivia was finally allowed to have some romantic moments with a single Liam, pushing forward a buildup scene to Drake's eventual secret wedding that had him acting extremely rude and confrontational to Kiara mere minutes after suspecting her (while she was expressing joy at his upcoming wedding in his playthrough!!!), and involving a subplot where he openly and by default suspected her. Sure, he spends a minute to be nice to her and chat about trauma if the MC chooses. But that's like a drop of sewage water floating in an ocean of shit).

3. Kiara Pretended to Be Our Friend And Then Dropped Us: This is false. Kiara only ever promised to put in a good word for us to the rest of the court, no more, no less. And she fulfilled that promise. Otherwise she never pretended to be friends with us nor made friendly overtures either way. In fact if you're going to accuse anyone of duplicity, you have Penelope and Madeleine. Yet somehow Kiara is the dishonest one. Okay. Okay. 🙃

4. Kiara Was Insensitive To Penelope and Didn't Understand Her. I'm not sure how Kiara is supposed to magically understand something that her friend isn't telling her. Plus this argument deliberately leaves out the fact that she stood up for Penelope when people chose to be mean to her, and even explained to the MC that she employs "tough love" because she can't always be around to protect Penelope. It also leaves out how one-sided this friendship is and how Kiara is made to do most of the heavy work in this friendship. Meanwhile, at Kiara's most difficult time period, in Castelserraillian, Penelope says absolutely nothing as the MC forces Kiara to join the Unity Tour, while making bedroom eyes at Kiara's brother. In fact the only reason Kiara's brother even exists is to give Penelope a love interest. The Kiara-Penelope friendship practically revolves around Penelope. I have never really seen Penelope look out for Kiara or attempt to actually support her in any way, and Kiara was the one who got the knife wounds. Yet somehow I'm supposed to believe that Penelope's the better friend of the two. Suuuuure. 😡

And this steaming pile of crap doesn't just make its way into shitposts and short opinion posts. It creeps into fanfic and fandom opinions. It finds its way in the tags and in other social media. It eventually even finds its way into the books, even though nothing in the earlier narrative ever really supported these extremely stale takes. 

Because PB didn't care for Kiara the way they cared for their white characters, they had no problem framing her narrative the way this fandom so desparately wanted it. Book 3 has the MC claim behind her back that Kiara is stuck-up and acts like knowing ten languages makes her better than everybody else, even though this is not backed up by the text, and in fact you will never see any acknowledgement of how Madeleine forced Kiara to make herself sound "exotic" in Book 2, or of how Madeleine and the MC (optionally) could downplay or question her skills unless they wanted to use her. Also, Penelope is never allowed to be talked about like that no matter what she's done. PB even had a scene (in the Hana playthrough) where they aggressively retconned the events of Madeleine's bachelorette party, where Kiara supposedly shouted at Penelope until the latter cried, and Madeleine was the one "having fun". Kiara was literally being thrown under the bus to make Madeleine look better. Madeleine. Imagine that. Madeleine.

Given how desparate the fandom was to nitpick and overdramatize everything Kiara said and did, is it any wonder that the team got away with the writing they gave her in Book 3? Considering that all the false arguments I stated above have made a resurgence in the past few weeks or days...is it any wonder that the only "support" this fandom is capable of re: Kiara, is lukewarm platitudes, cold takes and rank hypocrisy??

Yes, we can hold PB solely/largely  accountable for the treatment meted out to Kiara now. They made these choices over and over, and continue to do so, while tossing us occasional crumbs of faux-sweet behaviour from the MC. And they did this in insidious ways, which were so hard to catch that even a Kiara stan like me had to observe multiple playthroughs just to unravel even half of what they'd done.

But let's not pretend a huge chunk of the fandom was just as responsible for this - with their unfounded opinions, their disgusting bias, their favouritism of white characters, their refusal to observe anything besides their favourites, and their godawful fanfiction where Kiara is a creep or evil or killing the virtuous main character. Out of the huge body of fanwork that I've seen for TRR that features Kiara - at least 90% of it features her stalking Drake, or harming the MC (particularly the Drake MC), or in cahoots with the villains, or generally being referred to as a creep (why Olivia, who kissed Liam without his consent in Book 1 and was entitled enough to be angry about him not returning her feelings in TRH1, never got this sort of writing - I fail to understand). There is a tremendous gap between the vitriol dumped on her when she does something the MC doesn't like, and the milquetoast response when harm is done to her. There have been times when I've had to comb through pages and pages of hate just to read even one positive post on Kiara in her own goddamn tag.

When the next book arrives, I know you folks will continue to gas up the white women in this book every chance you get, and mask your racist vitriol for characters like Kiara (and Hana, let's not forget the way y'all treat Hana) behind the same self-righteous judgements and the same tired, stale takes. I know that PB - despite what I will still believe is their hollow promises today - will write every single one of those stale takes into existence. All because it will be "justified", because Kiara is a "bad person" or "untrustworthy" or "fake". Whatever. Y'all can stick to Olivia The Black Hole and babysit Madeleine and Penelope, I guess. Kiara always deserved better than these writers and most of this fandom anyway.

[weraceasone]

I read your post about Max and somewhere at the bottom you said he never says sorry. But he does. He immediately apologized to Rembember that crash with Stroll! What more should he do then. He also clearly explained why he didn't want to kneel and that's fine in my eyes. We can't force him to do something he doesn't support. I’m just tired of people forcing Max to be someone he’s not.

And about that anon who said that Alex makes Max look like a villain is a bit true. I feel like his personality makes Max seem extra mean. Remember when Daniel was Max’ teammate?? Literally no one ever talked about his personality. But since last season everyone dislikes the way he is lol. Everyone wants Max to be like Alex but that’s just impossible. Max is the only one of the young drivers who is still a bit hard while the rest is so soft. I feel like people love to act like Max is the bad guy while he is very funny and doing his thing.

Anon, you are very clearly a Max Verstappen fan. nothing wrong with that, you do you! however, I do not agree with you in the slightest.

1. in theory you are right, if Max apologized once, then the word ‘never’ isn’t true. I think it’s a bit naïve thing to say though, a one-time apology for many mistakes… does that cover it? if I punched you in the face three times, then apologized once, and then punched you in the face three times again, how much would the apology still mean to you? wouldn’t the best apology be a change of behavior?

2. what you said is true. we can’t force Max, or any other drivers for that matter, to kneel. everyone is free to have their own views. however, when a coworker asks you to do something that means a lot to them and tries to explain to why it is important and why you should use your platform, in my eyes, it’s not a decent thing to say no, especially when you cannot give a valid reason as to why you do not want to do it (I quote: “I am very committed to equality and the fight against racism. But I believe everyone has the right to express themselves at a time and in a way that suits them.”), and no, I don’t think it not “suiting you” is a valid reason. so, like you said, we can’t force him, but I also don’t think it’s a decent thing to do. something that also should be counted in the equation was the door that this opened for Dutch people to start hating on the Black Lives Matter movement, making Max their figurehead of the Dutch saying “doe maar normaal, dan doe je al gek genoeg” (= act normal, then you’re already acting crazy enough) which is often used to drag anybody down who dares to fight for change. it even went to the point where the hashtag #NietKnielenVoorDebielen (= don’t kneel for *r slur*) started trending in The Netherlands. and this is where the problem lies. I personally believe that if you are so “committed to fighting racism” like you say you are, you should call out your fans for that. no, it is not Max’ responsibility what his fans say and do, but don’t say you are committed to fighting racism, if you won’t stand up for that belief in a very simple instance. he could have just tweeted something. that’s all he had to do. and we can argue that Max didn’t know this was happening; but it was trending for hours. it was all over the news. Max knew. I just don’t respect it, I don’t.

3. you said, “I feel like his (Alex) personality makes him (Max) seem extra mean”, which raises the question: is Max dependent on other people to be perceived as nice? the thought that somebody else would be responsible for the way you and your behavior are perceived; it is a nice thought. unfortunately, it’s not a realistic one. that’s just not how life works. if I punched you in the face right now, does that give me the option to look at another person and say “well… that’s on (that other person), they didn’t punch anyone in the face and now I look bad”? how ridiculous does that sound to you? for example; if Alex doesn’t say a slur, and Max does, are we going to point fingers at Alex? he is not responsible for making Max look bad, he never even said one negative word about him. Max is the one who said something he shouldn’t have. this is a grown man. this whole thought of making another person responsible for the way he is perceived, just feels like a hopeless attempt to justify his behavior. he doesn’t need your justifying. he is a grown man. acknowledge his mistakes and move on. I’m sorry Anon, but the whole thought is just delusional. it’s not how life works. even though I would love for it to be that way.

you should determine what weighs up to you most, Anon. that’s not on me. I’m not trying to offend you, nor sound condescending, to me it’s just delusional. I think you can love a driver, while still acknowledging their mistakes and without sweeping everything under the rug. I do not hate Max. you know that, because you read through my other post. I just do not agree with this way of thinking. it’s just not me. maybe we just aren’t the same person. that’s okay. that could be the closure to this. I do hope you’re having a good day, Anon! 🧡

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (On Tumblr): here

Summary: “I’m egging your house for a dare, but you’re parent is a cop and now they’re yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you’re coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don’t want to go to jail” AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho’s house, he never thought he’d find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 4/?

Words: 3,831

Baz

SS (20:14): What are you up to anyways?

ME (20:15): Well, I was reading a book. But now I’m talking to you ... Obviously.

SS (20:15): Oh shit, sorry. I can text you l8r if you prefer. I didn’t mean to bother you.

ME (20:16): No. Don’t worry, you're not bothering me. I wanted to talk to you … You’re far more entertaining than Austen, anyway.

SS (20:16): Okay cool :D

SS (20:16): Austen? Like ... Jane Austen? Is that for school?

ME (20:17): No. Just for fun.

SS (20:18): WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?

SS (20:18): I had to read Pride and Prejudice for the GCSEs. It nearly killed me!

SS (20:19): I’ve never really been the best at reading, but that just took the piss! I swear to God, I didn’t understand like half of the words!

ME (20:20): That's understandable, to be honest. I will admit that the language can be a little 'flowery' at times. If you’re not really into reading, Austen isn’t exactly the most accessible literature. The stories are good though.

ME (20:21): Did you watch the film?

SS (20:23): Yeah, no kidding. I despised that fucking book!

SS (20:23):  And, kind of. We watched, like, half of it in class, but we never finished it - Ran out of time.

ME (20:24): That’s unfortunate, it's pretty good, as far as adaptations go. I have the DVD somewhere. If I can find it, we could watch it together when you come over, if you’d like?

SS (20:24): Aw yeah defo :) That sounds good.

SS (20:24): Are you free tomorrow?

SS (20:25): Not for me to come over dw - I know you want to wait till your dad is away.

SS (20:25): If not dw. I know it’s a bit short notice. Soz.

ME (20:26): Don’t worry. I’m free, as far as I know. Why? What did you have in mind?

SS (20:26): I was wondering if you wanted to come play footie with me?

SS (20:27): Josh and Nathan are out.

SS (20:27): So it would just be us 2.

SS (20:28): If that’s okay with you? I know footie with just 2 is a bit difficult.

Pathetically, my chest surges at the sight of it … Just us two. It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.

BP (20:30): That’s okay, I’m sure it would still be fun - I’d like to come. What time were you thinking?

SS (20:30): 1:30ish. I can do later/earlier if it’s better for you tho.

BP (20:31): No, that won’t be necessary. 1:30 sounds fine.

SS (20:32): Okay good :) The pitch is a few mins away from the home. I could come and pick you up if you like? We could walk down together?

BP (20:32): Is my house on the way?

SS (20:33): Nah. Not exactly. I don’t mind tho it’ll only take, like, 15 mins more.

BP (20:34): I can just drive down to your house. There’s no need for you to go out of your way.

SS (20:34): Oh okay, sure. Sounds good :)

SS (20:34): Lazybones ;)

SS (20:34): Do you need my address?

BP (20:35): Yes, Snow. As talented as I may be, I’m not a psychic.

SS (20:35): Aha lol. Bigheaded much?

SS (20:36): I live on Pallot Road. Number 61.

SS (20:36): Do you know where it is?

SS (20:36): Idk the postcode off the top of my head. Soz.

BP (20:37): Yes, I know it. I’ll be there at 1:30.

SS (20:38): Cool. Can’t wait :)

I falter, unsure of how much of myself I’m willing to give away. I’ve never been good with openness - Hiding behind sharp words, and a false air of indifference. In that respect, I’m Snow’s antithesis. He’s a boy without walls - Open and forthright, to a fault. Defenseless, yet not afraid. I don’t believe that he’s ever tried to conceal any part of himself, around me - Even when we were literal strangers (Which, despite how it may feel, was barely a week ago). And, we’re certainly more than that, now (Well, I hope so, anyway). So why should I keep pretending? Why not just be real? Why not be a little more Simon Snow? I mean, he could hardly fault me for it - That would just be immensely hypocritical.

I type out my response in a rush, staring down the screen critically. Realistically, all I’m doing is parroting him. And while I know that, it feels like something much more. It feels like a partial admission of another truth. Another, much more frightening truth … That Simon Snow appears to have found himself in my affections, in a way that nobody else has before. That being with him makes my heart pulse, and my soul sing … That I’m a helpless, lovelorn fool.

Nevertheless, I scrunch my eyes closed, and hit send quickly (Before my courage, inevitably, dries up).

BP (20:43): Neither can I. It’ll be great to see you again.

————————————————————————————

He’s already standing outside when I pull up to his house. His bronze curls whipping around in the wind, messily, and a hand tracing the hem of his hoodie absentmindedly.

Shyly, I slide out of the car, and pace over to him.

“Good morning, Snow.”

“Hey, Baz!” he chirps, smiling over at me.

“You’re actually ready on time, this time. Congratulations!” I toy.

“Hey! Piss off!” He gruffs, sweeping his hair back, out of his face. “I was three minutes late. That doesn’t even count!”

“Au contraire - It most certainly does count. I was deeply inconvenienced by your casual approach to promptness. I had to sit on the stairs for a whole five minutes ... I looked like a complete prat.”

“Not my problem,” he shrugs. “You didn’t have to wait right by the door, you moron. That is completely on you.”

“Whatever,” I scoff, my face flooding with heat.

He lets out a laugh - Deep and rumbling. “You know for a smart guy, you really are awfully dumb sometimes, Baz”

I roll my eyes dramatically, unable to think up a comeback. Stumped, I decide to move the conversation forwards ...

“Have you got everything you need?” I ask, nodding my head towards the backpack in his hands - Not even bothering to question why he’s chosen to hold it that way.

“Yep. I brought a ball, and everything!”

“Perfect,” I mumble, nudging my hand against his, and pulling the bag from between his fingers. “I’ll just put this in the boot, and then we can go ... Hop on in, Golden boy.”

————————————————————————————

Simon

Baz is ruthless on the pitch (Just like I’d imagined he’d be) - Pelting across the grass at a breakneck speed, and booting goal after goal into the back of the net. Truly, He’s a sight to behold - All straining muscles, and wicked grins. I’d be basking in it … If I wasn’t so bloody annoyed.

He’s absolutely thrashing me (Of course) - 5 to Nil. It’s an absolute disaster on my end, having, apparently, lost any sort of scoring capability. And, to make matters worse, he’s not exactly coy about it - Assaulting me with a constant stream of ' Are you even trying, Snow 's and over-exaggerated, false yawns. Utter prat.

In my desperation, I stick my leg out in a particularly botched attempt at a tackle, accidentally clipping the back of his ankle, and sending him tumbling to the ground. Shit.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, squatting down onto the floor besides him, and flipping him over with a tug to his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry. I was trying to get the ball, I swear I didn’t mean to do that.”

He glares up at me, his full lips twisted into an acrid scowl. My stomach sinks at the sight of it. Shit. I’ve really fucked this up.

But then, he’s chortling heartily (Apparently incapable of maintaining his cruel act, any longer). His face scrunching up delightfully, as his eyes well up with joyful tears.

“What the fuck even was that, you complete barbarian,” he laughs, clutching at his stomach, stupidly. “Couldn’t stand losing, so you thought you’d just try knocking me out instead ... That is definitely a foul, Snow”

“I know, I know. It was an accident though, I swear,” I whine. “Just ... Shut up, and let me help you, you dick.”

I stick a hand out, pulling him up into a sitting position. He’s a mess - Small clumps of mud and grass clinging to his face, and a nasty, bloodied scraze disfiguring his knee. Yet somehow, even with all the marks of my stupidity, he still manages to look infuriatingly good.  

I take his face in my hands gently, tilting it towards mine. The laughter dies out, suddenly - His face falling marginally, as he goes eerily quiet. Unperturbed, I continue my ministrations, brushing my fingers across his face, sweeping away the debris as I go.

“I really am sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“It’s alright, Snow. I was only teasing. I know it was an accident. It’s fine, really, it’s just a little scrape - Nothing a wash and a plaster won’t fix.”

“Okay,” I huff, relieved. “I didn’t bring any with me, though ... But, there’s a first aid kit back at home. We could go and patch you up there?”

“No. If it’s alright, I’d rather do it back at my own house. It’ll be much less awkward that way”

“Oh,” I drone, my voice weak with disappointment. “Sure.”

How the fuck did I manage to mess things up so quickly? We were supposed to spend the rest of the day together (I mean, neither of us ever actually said that, but it was definitely assumed), and now, within one poxy hour, I’ve managed to kill all chances of that. I'm such a bloody idiot.  

“Cheer up, misery-guts,” he giggles, “There’s no need to strop - You can come too. You might just have to sneak in through the window, or something.”

“Okay, sure,” I beam, stupidly elated. “I can handle that.”

————————————————————————————

Baz

As it turns out, he really can't handle it.

“Christ, Snow,” I hiss. “You’re being way too loud. Shut up.”

“It ain't my fault! I don’t know why the fuck you thought I would be able to climb up this thing properly. It’s made for flowers Baz, not people!”

He has a point, to be honest. I knew that getting him up the trellis would be a challenge, but we didn’t exactly have many other options.

I thrust my hand out of the window, gripping onto his forearm tightly, and shifting my weight to support him properly.

With that, his body starts shaking violently, a poorly concealed chuckle escaping his lips.

“I told you to shut it, moron,” I scold (Although, there is no real malice in it - The smile is clearly audible in my voice).

“I’m trying, really. It’s just - It’s just this is like some shitty version of Romeo and Juliet, Baz. You can’t blame me!” He laughs. “It’s funny!”

“Yes well … Romeo was much more graceful about it than you!”

“Shhhh. I’m doing my best. I’m almost up! You should’ve gotten me a rope or something, it isn’t my fault!”

“Oh yes, Snow,” I deadpan. “Sorry. Let me go and grab the ten foot rope I keep under my bed at all times”

“Hey! I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you’re into! You could've had a rope lying around somewhere!”

I don’t even try and justify that with a response, choosing, instead, to focus on helping him up.

Eventually, we manage to pull him into the room - Snow plopping down onto the floor, with an unceremonious thud.

Laughing hysterically, he props himself up against the wall besides me, and rests his head against the side of my shoulder.

“Thanks for helping me up. I was so scared I was gonna fall back into that stupid rose bush.”

“It’s no problem. I didn’t really fancy having to explain to Father why you, of all people, were sneaking into my bedroom.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, his throat vibrating distractingly, against my shoulder. “You need me to help you with your leg?”

“No. I can handle it … I was going to have a quick shower, actually, if that’s alright with you? Get it properly cleaned up and everything, you know."

“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” He murmurs, lifting his head up, and shifting his body sideways (Away from mine). “What - I mean what am I supposed to do, though? Do you want me to hide somewhere?”

I puff out a breath, amused by his sincerity. “No, Snow,” I drawl. “You don’t have to hide yourself away in the wardrobe. You can just wait around here. Nobody is going to come in - Don’t worry.”

“Oh, right” He mumbles, glancing his eyes down towards the floor. “Cool.”

“Yeah. There’s plenty here to keep you entertained, though. You could play on the PS, or watch some TV … Or, you could read something, I suppose. Although, I know you’re not big on that.”

He smiles over at me, his freckled cheeks puffing out wide. It’s frustratingly adorable.

“Yeah, maybe not that. I’ll probably just watch TV, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” I say, jumping up, and treading over to the en-suite door. “I won't be long, though, honest - I’ll be back in half an hour, latest.”

————————————————————————————

It definitely took me longer than half an hour. Although, that was Snow’s fault entirely - His lovely tackle, had left awful clumps of mud matted into my hair, so I had to give it a proper wash.

When I step back into the room (My hair still annoyingly damp), Snow has got himself starfished out across my bed, his chin propped up in his hands. He looks completely at ease, laid out in my bed like that - Even with the, admittedly, rather intimidating decor of my room.

Stepping besides the bed, I scoop his legs up in my arms, and swing them over to one side of the bed - Making room for myself besides him.

“What are you watching then, Snow?” I ask, laying myself down onto the duvet.

“Dunno. Some crap cop show. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“No?” I ask, gasping with faux incredulity. “Would you like to play some FIFA instead? That way I can thrash you again, without sustaining any serious injuries.”

“Don’t be a wanker, Baz,” he scolds. “You know I didn’t mean to do that!”

“I know, I know,” I coo. “I’m only messing with you. Don’t stress.”

He glares at me, pouting his lips out, slightly. “Okay then,” he agrees, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “I actually play a lot of FIFA, you know. So, I reckon I’m going to enjoy beating you … Would serve you right for being such a cocky bastard!”

I raise my eyebrows in challenge, punching out a quick, mirthless laugh. “I’d like to see you try, Snow. Do your worst … We’ll see who comes out on top!”

————————————————————————————

For all my arrogance, I will admit that Snow was actually a very worthy opponent (Although, I’d never tell him that).

Considering that I’d been playing everyday for the last two months, I had assumed it would be an easy victory - But, as it turns out, I was wrong. He put up a more than admirable fight - Actually leading for the majority of the match. But, of course, I still managed to beat him - Hammering in a goal on the ninety-third minute (Much to Snow’s dismay).

“For fuck sakes!” He fumes, throwing the controller down onto the bed, childishly. “I almost bloody had it, as well!”

“There, there, Snow,” I tease, pressing a hand to his shoulder in a mocking comfort. “There’s always next time.”

“Piss off, Baz!” He whines, flopping back against my pillows with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve had enough of this shitty game!”

“Alright,” I breathe, slowly laying myself down besides him, as I desperately try to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside me. “Do you want to play a different game, then?”

“No.”

“Okay,” I drawl, my voice rising with uncertainty. “So … You want-”

“Just wanna stay here for a bit,” he gruffs.

“Okay. We can stay here, then.” I agree, my voice hushed.

As silence settles over us, I steal a glance over at him.

He’s got an arm stretched out over his face (The synthetic material of his football shirt, straining against his broad shoulders, perfectly), and beneath it, I can see the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Unobserved, I take my opportunity to scan my eyes over him, appreciatively. Sprawled out against my bed, he looks positively obscene. His hair mussed intoxicatingly, where it rests against my pillow, and every revealed inch of skin decorated with constellations of moles. For a moment, I envision pressing my lips against them, lavishing each and every mark with the attention they deserve, but I quickly restrain myself. Allowing my mind to wander now, when he’s so close to me, would be an irreparably idiotic move.

In an attempt to cool myself down, I flutter my eyes shut, and shift my focus onto the steady puff of his breathing - Slow and constant. In and Out. In and Out. In and Out …

————————————————————————————

Embarrassingly, I’m halfway to sleep when he speaks next.

“Baz?” he whispers, poking my arm lightly. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, my voice deep and lazy with tiredness.

“Okay. Cool,” he sighs. “Can - I mean, can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm. Of course” I hum.

“It's just that, I’ve been thinking … Did - Did you mean what you said the other day?”

I scoff, quietly. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, if you want me to answer that, Snow.”

“Right yeah. Obviously,” he huffs, clearly frustrated.

Opening my eyes, I tilt my head over to look at him - Our eyes meeting immediately. His deep blue boring into my grey. This close, it’s far too intense.

Caught off guard, and humiliatingly wonderstruck, I avert my eyes, focusing my gaze on the canopy of my bed, instead. I feel my face flush with heat, once again, and pray to God that he doesn’t notice. That would be the last thing I need, right now.

“I just - I mean what you said to your dad,” he continues, stammering slightly.

“What bit?”

“When you were all like - 'Oh don’t worry Father, he's one of mine',” he explains, making an absolutely atrocious attempt at mimicking my accent. “I just mean like - Do you really have lots of, like - I don’t know ... Guys?”

“No,” I drone. “There’s no one else ... Never has been. I just said that to get him off of your case. He doesn’t really like talking about that stuff, so I figured it would be effective.”

“Oh,” He breathes. “Okay.”

I pause, unsure of what else to say. The silence stretches between us painfully - Tangible tension flooding the air. And then, I feel it. It’s barely a brush at first - Easy to play off as a simple accident, given our close proximity. But then, he continues. Pressing our hands together more fervently - His skin impossibly warm against mine. It’s searing - The contact lighting me up from within, as hopeful sparks ignite within me.

I gulp, audibly. “Why?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“Just - I’m just like … Curious, I suppose,” he murmurs, his finger tip tracing it’s way along the side of my thumb. It’s feather-light, but it weighs like lead in my heart. And I think that, maybe (just maybe), he might be trying to tell me exactly what I want to hear.  

He presses on, nervously, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s just that -”

Suddenly, there’s a banging at the door - Loud and insistent.

Panicked, I shove him off of the bed, sending him flopping onto the floor with a girlish yelp. Biting back a laugh, I rush over to the door, and pull it open ever so slightly.

“Basilton. Dinner is ready. I don’t know what on earth you’re doing in here, making all that racket, but you need to come downstairs now,” Father chastises.

“Of course. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

“Alright. Hurry down though. Please don’t keep us all waiting. We don’t want to start without you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Father,” I taunt, my tone laced with sarcasm. He’ll definitely lecture me about that later (He’s never impressed with my 'petulant attitude'), but, right now, I don’t particularly care.  

Closing the door behind him, I scurry over back to where Snow is sat.

“You have to leave,” I whisper, rushing out the words with a frightful urgency. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. You just - You really have to leave. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone ... So, you can't really stay.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hushes. “It’s fine. Don’t stress. Do you want me to go right now?”

“No,” I cry. “Just - Wait until I’ve been down at dinner for a few minutes - Then you can leave … That way, you can be certain nobody will be creeping around outside.”

“Okay, sure.” he says, smiling over at me.

Looking at him - I hesitate. “But - Are you sure you’ll be okay climbing? If you’d rather wait, I’m sure that I can find some other way to sneak you out, a little bit later. I could say I'm going out to the bin, or something. If you were quiet, we might be able to get away with it.” “Baz,” he sing-songs, teasingly. “I’m sure I can climb down without your help. It’s only one floor.”

“Yes well,” I deadpan. “Forgive me for thinking it may be best to find an alternative route. You didn’t exactly dazzle me with your speed or grace in getting up here.”

He snickers, squinting his eyes at me daringly.

“Yeah, but it’ll be easier going down. So chill. I can handle it - Trust,” he reassures. “You’ve seriously gotta go and get your dinner now, though. If your dad comes stomping up here to yell at you, it’s game over for me! And then fussing over this would've been entirely pointless”

“Okay,” I huff, standing and pacing over to the door, reluctantly.

Flashing him a quick smile, I call out a quiet “Message you later, Snow,”, and then, I leave him.

————————————————————————————

I’m just tucking into my dinner, when an almighty crash tears through the hush of the dining room. Of course, I know what it is immediately - Simon bloody Snow falling off of that god-forsaken trellis.

Fucking hell. I knew I should’ve tried to sneak him out another way.

I mean, what if he’s hurt himself? It’s not exactly a steep fall, but it’s certainly enough to do some damage. And the only reason he is even here, is because of my stupid, desperate plot to get to spend more time with him - And now, he's probably laying out there with a broken leg, or something. God. I'm such a selfish dolt.

Anxiously, I slide my phone out of my pocket, beneath the table, and hurry out a quick text.

ME (19:27): Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Do you need help?

I wait, holding my breath as my leg bounces under the table, impatiently.

SS (19:28): Nah. Don’t worry. I’m good.

SS (19:28): I might’ve killed your flowers tho :/

SS (19:28): Sorry!

I smile to myself privately - Doing my best to hide my grin behind my hand.

That bloody disaster is going to be my undoing, I swear.

[shipaholic]

Good Omens/SU crossover - The Prologue!

Day 19, 2020: already behind on my writing schedule, lol.

It’s angels and demons with gem powers y’all! I’ve decided to post scenes from the fic on tumblr as I go, and then do a big edit at the end before putting it on AO3.

Prologue: three days after Adam and Eve leave the garden, Crowley reforms for the first time.

Link to next part at the end.

---

Prologue

4004 BC

There was an angel in the garden of Eden.

The others had left already after the business with the apple, muttering about cock-ups (but more politely, being angels). Strictly speaking, there was no reason for any angel to still be skulking around the garden. A cloud of embarrassment hung over the place. In a few hours management was due to turn up and sweep it, before returning to head office and drafting an official statement. The garden couldn’t remain on Earth, obviously. There had been talk of archiving it.

A twisted black sigil, the size of a rook’s feather, lay on a flat rock. It looked as though it should have only had two dimensions, but had been press-ganged by physics into manifesting an extra one. It was wrapped in a little nest of white cloth and placed in a sunbeam. The angel hovered nearby, trying not to break into out-and-out looming.

The black object on the rock finally did something. It glowed pure white and rose out of its nest to float in the air two feet above eye level. It made a noise that would be identifiable, many, many years from now, as a laser beam charging up [1].

The light became blinding, and a shape grew out of it - more shapeless than shape, its borders wobbling like a giant soap bubble. Then it compressed and became human-shaped. Limbs sprouted in every direction. The blob at the top decided to be a head. It was like watching dough being rolled out and reformed into an unsettlingly realistic gingerbread man.

Long curls unspooled from the head. Swathes of cloth burst into existence and draped around the figure, similar to that worn by the angel. It then changed its mind, and the loose toga pinned over one shoulder morphed into a cowl and hood, wrapping around the head and leaving only a few loose strands of hair.

Features popped out of the smooth face. Colour suffused it down to the fingertips. There was a final burst of wind and light, like a celestial flourish, and a pair of gleaming white wings unfolded from its back. Immediately, they turned black, like a forest scorched to ash. They fluttered once, and the figure gently touched down on the grass of Eden.

It opened its eyes. They were still golden.

Then it squawked and fell over.

“Ack,” it said.

It kicked a few times at its robe, which was not especially tangled around its feet, but that seemed less embarrassing than acting as though it had fallen over because it still hadn’t got the hang of having legs.

Then it caught sight of the angel hiding behind a rock.

“Gnn!” it said, and grabbed for something to throw at him. [2]

“Um!” The angel held up his hands. He tried to stand up without looking intimidating, and ended up in a kind of hunch. “I come in peace. Erm.”

The figure pulled a face, as if remembering the distant present. “Peace? You killed me!”

The angel grimaced. “Well. I suppose I did, technically. Sorry about that.”

“You whacked me over the head!”

“I know how that must look -”

“I thought we were having a nice moment up there, with the sheltering from the rain and so on, and two seconds later you karate-chop me with your blessed wing!”

The angel’s face was two notches guiltier than his gave-away-my-flaming-sword face. “It really was an ac -” He paused. “Well. Not quite an accident, to be quite honest. Not in the sense of not meaning to do it. But I really didn’t mean to k- discorporate you. I feel terrible about the whole thing.”

“Oh, you feel terrible! I’ve got a ding in my skull. Brand new skull and everything.” The demon tapped its own head, but found it undamaged. It frowned. “Huh. That’s useful.”

“You seem fine now,” said the angel. He already sounded far less sympathetic.

“Yeah, ssssuperb.”

“You’ve even redecorated yourself a bit. I like the, erm.” The angel gestured vaguely. “Belt.”

“Yeah. Well. Why not.” The demon preened a little. It was quite a nifty trick. The angel was a fan of his new, cinched-in waist look, but thought it a bit of a shame the demon had covered his long red hair. His gem - the winding black sigil just under his ear - was also half-hidden under his hood. The angel had a few further thoughts, but it seemed impolite to comment.

“What are you hanging around for, anyway?” said the demon. He was still sprawled on the ground with a clump of grass in his hand. “Planning to stand over me and just… finish me off whenever I reform?” He blanched. He’d just said it off the top of his head, but it was actually a disturbing thought. “Because that sounds, uh. Boring.”

“Of course not!” said the angel. It did sound boring. Also, horrible. He’d got through the entire War in Heaven without engaging in what might technically be called combat. Given the option, he’d prefer to keep his kill-count at zero. Who knew their human forms would… explode into smoke clouds from one tiddly knock on the head? Someone upstairs might have told him. “I wanted to see you were all right, that was all. You gave me quite a shock, you know.” He gave an embarrassed cough. “Look, I really wasn’t trying to trick you - back on the wall.”

“Oh, ‘course not. You were just doing me a favour, keeping me dry, nice and neighbourly, only by sheer misfortune an overwhelming blood-lust came over you, and there was nothing for it but to smite me off a sixty-foot wall. That’s a comfort. I feel much safer now.”

   The angel, unlike most of the others, understood sarcasm. [3] He kept what had really happened up on the wall to himself. It had been a loud clap of thunder - the first ever produced on Earth - and it had been startling and unpleasant. Usually a sound like that heralded the appearance of Upper Management, who would have had Questions about him chatting to a demon, of the kind that ended in Meetings with Clipboards. Getting the demon out of sight chop-chop had been the word of the day, and - well. Turned out these new, corporeal bodies were less resilient than one might hope. Bit of a rush-job, the angel regrettably suspected.

“How long was I out, anyway?” The demon peered around the sun-drenched garden. “I see this place has had time to dry out.”

“It’s been three days. I’m not really supposed to be here anymore. I’m going to be terribly late to the staff meeting.” The angel looked at him sidelong. Politeness lost a skirmish with curiosity. “What… exactly was it like?”

“What, getting my head stoved in? Or just the general feeling of betrayal?”

The angel was a being of heavenly love and he did not roll his eyes. “What were you doing in there? While you were, er, recharging?”

The demon’s yellow eyes went blank. “Hnn.” He scratched his cheek. “Just. Hanging about, you know. Think I was in contact with one of my people. Sort of felt like someone was talking to me. And like I was filling in forms. And having a nap.”

The angel frowned. “A nap? Never heard of it.”

“Oh, it’s going to be big.” The demon smiled. He had high hopes for sloth. At the very least, he suspected he was going to like it.

The angel gave a tentative smile. “So it wasn’t too unpleasant?”

The demon huffed. “Fine, no, it wasn’t torture. It was just weird. No harm done, and I got a new look out of it, so don’t be too hard on yourself. Not that you were being all that hard on yourself. Scratch that, be harder on yourself, softer on me.” He clambered to his feet. He definitely hadn’t got the legs down yet. Rebooting his body had set him back, he was sure of it. “I’ve got turned around. Where’s the exit?”

The angel pointed. There hadn’t used to be an exit [4], but now that Adam and Eve had departed, there was. “I’d move quickly if I were you. Head office is sending some of my lot down to check the place over. Could be any minute now.”

“Thanks for the warning,” the demon said gloomily. He spread his wings for balance and started to wobble away on newborn legs.

“Sorry again!” the angel called out.

“Not like anyone died. See you, angel.”

The angel waved, then felt foolish since the demon was facing away. “Aziraphale. Don’t think I said.”

“Goodbye, Aziraphale.”

“Goodbye, Crawly.”

The angel watched him stumble towards the exit of the garden, until he started to feel peculiar and unsafe and guilty about something he couldn’t put his finger on. Time to leave and avoid running into management.

Aziraphale the angel turned and strode eastwards, and Crawly the demon continued west, and they wouldn’t meet again for six hundred years.

---

[1] But only in certain B-movies.

[2] There were no deadly weapons in Eden, even if you improvise. The figure grabbed a handful of grass. He inconvenienced himself more pulling it out of the ground than he would have done to the angel by throwing it.

[3] After a fashion. At least, when it came draped in a neon flag with ‘I am being facetious and mean to you’ scrawled across it.

[4] An exit for humans, that was. The four Gates at the North, South, East and West were guarded by angels and they led to less Earthly destinations.

---

(Chapter 1, Part 1)

[wilhelmjfink]

The Great Divide - Chapter 2

Summary: Daryl had told Riley a hundred times: people are not to be trusted and one day she’d run into the wrong person and learn pretty quickly that her confidence in strangers would get her into a lot of trouble. They both knew he was right. He was just trying to teach her before it was too late for her to learn.

Warnings: probably some swearing

A/N: so i’ve decided to post 2x a week bc i’m not sought after enough to have any sort of demand for the next chapter of this series LOL SO HERE’S CHAPTER TWO feat. really angry daryl (we can deny it all we want but we loooooooooove it)

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

“Aaron!” Tara hissed. “There’s someone outside!”

The pair ducked under the small rectangular windows that laid ground level with the hotel, the quilted glass dusty and cracked with misuse, but useful enough for Tara to spot movement as she climbed the shelving along the basement storage room walls.

“Shit,” he whispered it more to himself than to Tara as three other strangers joined the unfamiliar man outside, emerging from the tree line. “There’s more.”

They held their breath, observing the group of strangers slowly approach the hotel before luckily seeming disinterested and moving on. The each exhaled the breath of anxiety neither one of them even noticed they were holding.

“I hope Riley’s hiding,” Tara muttered under her breath, almost absent-mindedly, so focused on the potential threat.

The air was still while they waited, silent and still, hoping that the visitors would just pass without incident. It was hard to hear them from a distance, but as they moved closer to the hotel, Tara could pick out a few words: ‘first and foremost’ and ‘finally’ and ‘divided’. They would eventually move on. Wordlessly, they exchanged nervous glances. If they could just remain quiet enough...

The sound of a car engine turning over immediately followed by deafening revving diverted both of their attentions back to the outside. It was loud, but they still couldn’t see it, and it only worried the more as the seconds ticked by and the sound refused to die out into the distance.

“Come on.” Aaron suddenly pulled Tara away from the window and they entered the dark stairwell, blindly climbing until they reached the top, peering carefully around the corner into the lobby, both relieved to see it still empty.

The large bay windows were of course boarded up, but were inconsistent enough to leave small slivers of light that allowed them to peer outside.

Their blue Chevy remained unbothered on the sidewalk, but they could see at the end of the stretch a herd of black vehicles that surrounded a big utility truck or van. There were at least ten people outside, leaning up against the black Dodge Chargers, all armed to the teeth.

“Holy hell,” Tara whispered. “Are they all wearing masks? Where do you think they came from?”

“I have no idea,” Aaron was just as shocked as she was; it was written on both of their faces. “Let’s go find Ri and we’ll just lay low until they leave.”

“What if they don’t leave?” Tara asked anxiously. The worst case scenarios had already played in her head, arriving the second that she’d realized somebody was outside. “What if they sweep the area? They’re gonna notice we cut the chain on the front doors eventually.”

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Aaron nodded pointedly towards the stairwell, trying to remain as calm and rational as he could for both of them. “Come on.”

Tara followed him after hesitantly turning away from the sight of the crew outside.

The men were raucous, laughing loudly and obnoxiously, seemingly unaware of the danger and unwanted attention the noise would attract. Tara wasn’t surprised, though — judging from their appearances they were not only well-off if not thriving, but they looked tough, and they looked mean. Each vehicle had the same symbol painted on its door or window — some foreign design that was unfamiliar to both Tara and Aaron. A different language, maybe. Or perhaps some sort of cult or twisted religion.

Aaron lead the way up the stairs blindly, trusting his gut and fumbling through the darkness before his foot kicked and caused him to stumble over an object that lay in his path. He caught himself on the wall adjacent to him and found then he was close enough to the emergency exit door so he pushed the metal open just enough to let a ray of sunlight leak in and light it up.

“Oh, my fuck,” Tara gasped louder than she’d intended to. “That’s Riley’s bag!”

Aaron wanted desperately to be able to argue with her. He couldn’t. It was Riley’s “Shit!”

“We have to go after her.” Tara was already turning back around toward the lobby, retrieving her rifle where it hung on her back in preparation to fight, like a soldier marching confidently into the front lines. Aaron could see the wild look in her eyes and he quickly darted after her.

“Hey, hey, hey! Wait!” He had a hold on her sleeve and Tara halted in her tracks but didn’t turn around. “We can’t just run out there, Tara — there could be even more of them. You saw them all -- their armor and their firepower! They could be seriously dangerous ...”

“They could have Riley!” She spat back, spinning on her heels to face him. “That’s her backpack. Why would she just ditch it?”

“Just relax, okay?” Aaron ran a hand through his hair, already breaking a sweat from the stress and the humidity of the day as the sun rose higher in the sky. He wanted to ask why they wouldn’t take it, but deep down, he felt it would just lead to more worry as they played out potential scenarios in their heads. “Just, hold on...”

“Aaron, come on. What’s there to think about? We’re gonna go find her.”

There was a faint sound of crickets off in the distance somewhere as the sun lowered and painted the town a deep orange. It let in an eerie glow into the room Aaron and Tara found themselves in. Amongst the upturned papers and belongings they’d managed to scatter all over the floors and beds were the discarded room keys they’d thrown after searching each floor thoroughly with not one sign of Riley.

“She’s not here, Aaron.” Tara’s panic was rising, her voice escalating with every word she spoke. She swore, double and triple and quadruple checking in her head: they’d looked in every single room on the top three floors. Two of them were locked, but there was no response from the other side of door, and when they’d noticed the dust on the lock mechanism, they’d decided it’d been untouched. And the only sign they’d found of Riley’s presence was a few of those abandoned hotel room keys — but that only increased their anxiety as opposed to giving them any reassurance nor did it get them any closer to their friend.

Aaron had been watching the group of strangers outside from the fifth story window of the suite they’d entered, eagerly waiting for them to leave or at least show any sign that they did in fact have Riley. They hadn’t done either, and his shoulders slumped in a combination of disappointment, but also some bitter relief, when they’d all piled back into their vehicles and prepared to leave.

“Well, they’re about to head out,” he informed Tara, trying desperately no to lose hope for himself and for her, though he couldn’t help but feel like his words had been much heavier than he’d intended them to be. “We can go search outside now — see if she was hiding out there and waiting for them to leave.”

“And if she’s not?”

Aaron glanced over his shoulder at Tara, slightly taken back by her tone of voice when she snapped those words at him. Though he knew deep down that she was probably right: something had happened to Riley. He could feel it in his gut; in his bones. She was smart and she was sly, and she would remain undetected if she wanted to. That only meant that she had gone out after somebody or something, and had yet to return. She could be lying injured somewhere or, if they were lucky, just lurking in the shadows patiently waiting for the intimidating group of strangers to leave the area.

He watched as the final vehicle drove out of sight. “Let’s go.”

Building to building, sometimes twice, they searched, with no hint nor sign of Riley. Any sign of entry they investigated. Any hint of activity or movement; no stone went unturned, no footprint unfollowed.

A corpse with similar armor lay dead on the edge of the treeline, shot in the head, stiff and dry as it’d laid there for some time. He had a small keychain on his belt with few oxidizing keys hanging from them. That was it. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

It was dark by the time the pair had decided to start their journey back to Alexandria, having exhausted all of their options and available resources in search of their friends. They’d come up empty handed, much to their disappointment, having thoroughly swept the area in its entirety for any sign of her at all. They were devastated. Hopeless, almost, but guilty, because why would they be so quick to give up?

The ring held five keys, each labeled accordingly on masking tape in black marker: pit, quarters, trains, hole, and slaves. It didn’t give them much insight, but only worried them more, the names on the keys painting a gruesome picture in both of their minds. It only dug the hole they’d both been sitting in deeper; pulling them lower into the fear.

It had to have been shortly before the sun was about to rise when they pulled back up to the entrance, their stomachs knotted with anxiety as the gate slid open in front if them.

The two didn’t even make it through the entrance before they spotted them: Rick leaning against the streetlight pole to their right and Daryl beside him, pacing in circles like an infuriated, caged animal.

At the sight, Aaron and Tara glanced at each other apprehensively before shutting the truck off and hopping out of their respective sides.

Daryl stormed up to them, visibly upset, and Rick trailed behind him with more confusion than anger on his face. His expression was almost hard to read, like it so often was, and neither one could distinguish exactly how he was feeling. But if they knew him well enough, hopefully he would be more level headed and rational than Daryl usually was, as he’d proven time and time again, and they hoped that would be the case again and he would be able to calm him down...

“The hell took ya so long?” He barked at them before he’d even made it up to the truck, and they watched his face drop the second he realized that they were missing someone.

But before he could lash out, Aaron interjected, trying to diffuse the situation before it spiraled out of control. “Riley took off.”

As Rick approached they could see his face clearer with the dome light shining from behind them. He looked confused and threw a fleeting glance at Daryl, who looked nothing short of outraged, and managed to speak up first while his friend still seemed to be trying to register what he was just told.

“What do you mean ‘took off’?”

“She took off?” Daryl suddenly roared, his voice growing dangerously loud for the quiet community in the middle of the night. Rick’s attempt to deter him did little to help. “Riley don’t just take off. Where is she?”

There was a fleeting second where he softened upon registering the marred expression on Tara’s face, but as the sadness usually did with him, it turned back into a fiery rage. He took a threatening step toward Aaron. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to ya!”

“She ditched her backpack,” Tara answered flatly for Aaron, dropping the bag at the archer’s feet. And he looked down at it for a moment, trying to configure a reason inside of his head as to why the fuck she might’ve done that, but he knew his girl. She wouldn’t leave her backpack behind without the intention of coming back to get it. She wouldn’t have just left without any sort of hint or anything where she was going. She wouldn’t just leave.

“Nah, that don’t make any sense,” Daryl shook his head in denial, refusing to believe she’d just abandoned them. “She wouldn’t jus’ leave.”

“Did you see anybody else?” Rick asked them as Aaron ran a hand through his hair, growing increasingly more distraught by the second. “Was anybody else around?”

“There were these guys,” Aaron answered. “Like, ten of them. Maybe more. But they didn’t notice us. They were far down the street, and — “

Before could finish his thought Daryl lunged forward, throwing himself at his friend as he simply tried to explain everything he knew and pinned him up against the brick wall of the home behind them. He was panting heavily as he stared the terrified man in his hands down, his eyes wild and Aaron briefly worried that Daryl might actually kill him. 

“And ya just fuckin’ left her there?” Daryl yelled.

Aaron shook his head frantically. “No, Daryl, we — “

“I trusted you with ‘er!”

Aaron realized then that Daryl wasn’t angry, not at him nor at all, but he was hurt; he felt betrayed by his friends, but Aaron and Tara were confident that they’d done all they could.

“Daryl, you didn’t see those guys,” Tara stepped toward them and put a hand gently on his arm, hoping to simmer him down at least a little bit before he ended up doing some he’d regret. “They were mean. And they had a lot of firepower.”

“They coulda had Riley!”

"Hey guys, let’s all jus’ calm down.” This time it was Rick who stepped up. “They couldn’t have stayed out there forever, Daryl. I’m sure they looked for her -- ”

“Did ya even try to find her?” Daryl wouldn’t tear his eyes away from Aaron who, despite his fear, knew the archer well enough and still trusted him not to try and hurt him... or so he hoped.

“We tried, man — we looked everywhere. We came back for you guys... we need more numbers before we can just run after them. Those guys, they were... they were bad people. And if they do have her, I don’t think they’re going to hand her over nicely.”

With a sigh Daryl dropped him suddenly, feeling overwhelmed with guilt and sadness and fear and pressure and too many other fucking things. He looked to Rick for answers and, upon realizing his best friend and leader had nothing to offer, turned on his heels and stormed off. 

“Alright then, les’ go.”

“Daryl, we — “

“Save it! There ain’t time to bullshit about it! If those guys are as bad as y’all say, then I ain’t gonna hang around here and wait for ‘em to drop her off on our doorstep. Let’s go.”

When he disappeared, the silence that followed was soon interrupted by a motorcycle engine and even though they’d known Daryl was one to play around, they didn’t expect him to react the way that he did. 

Rick turned back to his friends wearily. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Aaron ribbed the spot on his collar bone that Daryl’s fists has dug into. “But he’s right. If those guys did take her, then we can’t afford to waste any time.”

Rick tried his best to keep up the voice of reason. “We need to regroup; think of a plan....”

But Tara started after Daryl instead, strutting backwards to holler at the two guys that stayed by the truck. “Let me know what Daryl thinks of that,” she shouted before turning back around toward the motorcycle that was pulling up. She waved him over. “I’m going with him. You guys can catch up later.”

:o gasp

i think i’m going to post a one shot tomorrow too.... maybe if i feel like u guys want it bad enough............ lmao

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[mayabriane]

My Birth Story

March 17, 2019, it was the day Larry got back home from being on tour and away from me for 3 months, excited isn’t the word to describe how we both felt anticipating this day. Knowing he had his first Atlanta show with Ella coming in just two days, we started Operation: Get Sol Here. Power walking in Piedmont and the hallways on our floor, eating spicy eggplant from Planet Bombay on Moreland (I got a level 4 in spice and almost died lol), having sex lmao (laughable because of how big and uncomfortable I was and how nervous Larry was lmao), etc. but through it all we tried to remain patient. I was a nervous wreck because I REFUSED to believe or accept Larry not being able to be here for Sol’s birth. He had a few more dates of tour left after the 22nd so if she didn’t come on her due date, March 20th, there was a possibility he would miss her. He had even worked with them so he could stay 2 days after her due date where he would miss 2 shows. We were really determined.

March 19, 2019, my 28th birthday and the first night of Larry’s Atlanta show with Ella. Sol was still chilling. I was having very minor, inconsistent contractions so me and my Mama headed to the show. We danced the night away. Left the Tabernacle and headed to get something to eat before calling it a night. Wishing, hoping, praying that labor would kick in and we could head to the hospital. But still no sign of Sol. I kept growing more and more anxious but Larry was determined and kept faith that she would come while he was here.

March 20, 2019, 2nd night of Larry’s Atlanta show with Ella and with still no sign of Sol coming my mom, Ti Lori, Cameron and I headed to the show. Danced the night away again and ended our night going to eat at R.Thomas. Although the evening was perfect, full of family, love and laughter, the fear of Sol not coming before Larry had to leave was growing stronger and stronger.

I was desperate. I asked advice from my beautiful and amazing doula, Akiyla, who shared a not so enticing but possibly successful natural method to induce labor; a concoction that’s main ingredient was Castor Oil. Because I couldn’t find all of the ingredients, I just put a tablespoon of Castor Oil in some pineapple juice and drank it. The purpose of this was to kickstart contractions that would send me into active labor.

At 3:30 AM on March 22, 2019, I started having painful, regular contractions. As they got closer and closer together I became more and more excited, THIS WAS IT!!! Akiyla helped me monitor the contractions and headed to our apartment. My mom had stayed the night with Larry and I so she was already here. I woke them up, took a quick shower and once Akiyla arrived my contractions were 5-7 minutes apart. We called my doctor and they instructed me to go into the office to be checked.

Larry, my mom, Akiyla and I crammed into a small room in the doctor’s office for them to monitor my contractions and Sol’s heart rate. For some reason the machine wasn’t picking them up so the midwife came in to check my cervix. She said I was about 1 centimeter dilated, which was NOTHING and greatly concerned us because that meant I hadn’t made much progress. So she asked if I wanted her to sweep my membranes. For those who aren’t familiar, sweeping or stripping the membranes is an in office procedure where the midwife or doctor uses a gloved hand and inserts their finger into the cervix and separates the amniotic sack from the uterine wall. Basically damn near as painful as giving birth. I agreed to have her sweep them and just as quick as it happened I was screaming and crying. Agony. Because I was 2 days past my due date she sent me to the hospital to start labor. Before we headed to the hospital, we went to breakfast at Another Broken Egg, and by this time my contractions were starting to subside. I was so nervous but still determined to get Sol here.

We went and checked in at Northside. They sent me up to my room, I gave them my records and birth plan, got undressed and hooked up to have Sol’s heartbeat monitored and then all the contractions STOPPED.

We sat there for hours and hours and nothing. The first midwife came in and checked my cervix and said I was only 2 centimeters dilated. Not much progress at all. I became desperate again, and now so was Larry because we knew that he had to leave Atlanta the next day. Before all of this my plan was to go completely natural but now we started talking induction. We decided that we wanted to do induction because the midwife said that they would just give me Pitocin and that would kick start labor and I would dilate. Cool. We pushed the green button on that and waited for next steps.

Hours upon hours past and the 2nd midwife had still not arrived. We were growing more and more anxious and by this time me and Larry were impatient. I was growing even more concerned as well because my Mom was scheduled to leave Atlanta in just a couple days. The midwife finally came in and we started discussing induction with her. But before we got all the way into it she wanted to check my cervix to make sure she provided the best recommendation for induction. She checked and told me I was 1 centimeter dilated. She then explained that just giving me Pitocin would not work. She further explained that my cervix needed to be softened to dilate before contractions could kick start. That meant two steps before I could even start labor which also meant a ton of drugs and procedures that I was not feeling at all.

As we sat there in the room we all started to talk and try to make the best decision. Initially we chose the option that was the least complicated, but as I sat there with my mind and heart racing I knew that this wasn’t the right thing to do. As hard of a pill it was to swallow I knew that Sol was not ready to come yet and I did not want to try to FORCE her to come. Larry and I were devastated. We cried in each other’s arms because we knew now how great the possibility was that he would miss her birth.

I cried so much and felt so defeated like I had let everyone down. Why wouldn’t my body do what it needed to do to bring our baby here? But then I remembered the countless times both Larry and I said and held firm on, that God’s plan was bigger than all of us. That he would make it so that everything happened exactly the way it was supposed to. And with pain and disappointment in my heart I swallowed this pill too and brought in the next day with faith. Larry ended this night before heading home by giving me the most beautiful Push Gift ever; a gold necklace with two little baby feet as the pendant, on the front of each foot is an aquamarine which is my and Sol’s birthstone, and on the back of each foot was her first and middle name engraved. I wear it everyday now ❤️

Days came and went and there was still no sign of Sol coming. On Monday, March 25th I went back into the doctor’s office for another appointment. She told me that if I had not gone into labor by Wednesday that I would need to come back in on Friday for us to start discussing induction, which also could mean C-section. NOPE. I was not having it. So I walked and walked and walked and walked some more. On the evening of March 25th I went to the gym and power walked on the treadmill for 15 minutes, did some squats then went back to my apartment. Just me and my big pregnant belly. My mom was staying with Ti Lori and Larry was back on the road finishing tour.

At 3:30 AM on March 26, 2019, a very painful contraction woke me up out of my sleep. As I laid there 10 minutes later another one came. I was like ok I need to go to the bathroom. As I walked to the bathroom I noticed that it was oddly wet between my legs and I was dripping a little heading to the door. Once I hit the bathroom door and turned on the light my water broke all over the floor. I thought I had peed all over myself because of how it felt but I texted Akiyla anyway and told her. She told me that if I continued to leak fluid after going to the bathroom that it was def my water. By this time my contractions were growing stronger and closer together and I was def still leaking. Omg...it was finally happening. I called my mom and woke her up and told her to head over immediately because it was time. Both her and Akiyla rushed here and took me to the hospital.

Got checked in and so the long journey of labor began. When they initially checked me they found that I had ruptured meconium, meaning Sol had pooped inside of me. They weren’t extremely concerned but knew they had to monitor her heart rate and once she was born check her immediately to make sure she had not swallowed or inhaled in the meconium.

For 10 hours I groaned, rocked and moaned through excruciating contractions trying to stay determined to go natural. My mom and Akiyla stayed by my side. I threw up three times. By this point I was so weak and exhausted I could barely sit up. So I asked for some pain medicine. They came in an gave me 2 shots, one of morphine and the other to help with nausea. That calmed me some but just a little. The contractions were getting worst. At the 13th hour they came in to check my cervix, I was only THREE CENTIMETERS dilated. NO WAY. And I had to get all to the way to TEN!? And it had already been THIRTEEN hours!? How much longer would it take!? How much more could I take?! Nope. That was it for me. I told them I wanted the epidural.

I got the epidural, craziest feeling ever. It felt like a skinny cold worm wiggled through my spine. Not long after that I was numb from the waist down. I couldn’t even lift my legs or rotate from side to side. And I was shivering uncontrollably. But I could no longer feel the contractions (bright side). They came in and checked me again I was 5 centimeters. Some progress but still not enough so they gave me Pitocin. Only a little bit made my contractions so strong the epidural was wearing off and they were extremely close so they took me off the Pitocin and let me ride the rest of it out with just the epidural. More time went by then they came in again and checked me, I was 9 centimeters. Omg NOW it was REALLY time. They called the Midwife to come which felt like AN ETERNITY for her to get there.

I was experiencing so much pressure it caused me to shit on myself twice. Yes, I shit on myself. I was so angry and annoyed WHERE was the midwife!!?? Finally she came in and it was time to get in the position to push. With Larry on FT, my mom holding one leg back and Akiyla holding my foot I started pushing. Everytime I felt pressure I would have to get in position and push as hard as I could for 10 straight seconds without breathing, let 3 seconds pass and push again for 10 seconds for THREE PUSHES. At the end of each round I was crying and trying to catch my breath frustrated because each last push felt like I was doing it enough. They kept trying to make me wear the oxygen mask, but it was giving me anxiety so I kept pulling it off. On top of all that it felt like Sol was coming out and going back in (btw I could feel everything except the contractions) so I asked for the mirror so I could see my progress. And OMG there was her head FULL of hair. Now it was ON lol

For 38 minutes I pushed and pushed and pushed and then at 2:03 AM she came. The moment of her coming through the birth canal at the last moment before she was Earth side, is unlike anything I’ve ever felt or probably will ever feel. I had transcended from Earth to spirit world. I was levitating. I was absolutely weightless, completely surrounded by a warm but gentle cloud of light and love. Unreal. I balled. So did Larry and so did my mom. Our beautiful baby girl was finally here. Our Sol Marie. 7 lbs 10 ounces, 21 inches long. And I was completely transformed. Since that day I was never the same. Life has all new meaning as does love.

My birth story was not like I imagined it would be and that is exactly the way it was supposed to be. Unpredictable. Unexpected. Unique. Surreal. But perfect. Perfect for me and our daughter.

If you read through this entire story you are just as crazy as me lol no but seriously, THANK YOU. Thank you for taking the time out to read my story and in a way share the journey with me.

Peace and blessings to you all, especially the Mamas. I love y’all.

[taetae-tea]

The One (Part II)

Part I <- Part II –> Part III

Genre: Hybrid!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, slight smut 

Paring: TaehyungXreader

Word-count: 5K

Warnings: Abuse, unjust, anxiety, forcing, animalistic feelings, panic-attacks, teasing, chasing, indication of mating, dominance

Summary: You’ve never liked the idea of hybrids, since it’s straight up abuse from a owner to a hybrid, they aren’t treated like humans. But what happens when your boss gave you a hybrid as a gift?

A/N: y’all, we’re on 1100 followers?? Where are you people coming from? Well, welcome to the family anyways lol xD. btw, should I add smut the next part? Or is it rushed idk. 

Masterlist

‘If you talk back to me, you will be punished. If you refuse to give me what I want, you will be punished. So watch what you do little kitten.’ The woman whispered into the hybrid’s ear, hissing every word out while she has a tight grip onto his jaw. He closes his eyes, scared till death that she will maybe hurt him if he accidentally makes a sound. He doesn’t know why she suddenly became so edgy, he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. He hadn’t broken anything in the house, he hadn’t complained. Nothing, literally nothing. But still, she was mad at him.

’Say it.’

‘Yes m’am.’ He says with a shaky voice. He now could feel the tears coming up and this time, he isn’t able to hold back. He just wants to cry, even in his little room for that matter. He doesn’t want to be close to her, but does he have a choice? No, not at all. If he doesn’t obey her, she will eventually send him back to the factory, where he got created. From there, they would give him therapy, everything to change him and to send him to another person.

‘Good kitten. now, go and lay on the bed and open your legs as far as you can manage. I will get the whip, because you need to be punished.’

You wake up to the annoying and familiar tune denoting through your room, making you awoke in an instant. You let out a groan, turning to your side to turn off the alarm clock on your little night-stand. You rested your hand on your head for a little second as you look at the time, noticing it’s already 10 am in the morning. There is no stress though, since it’s the time of the holidays. You’re free for at least 2 weeks.

Your plans were to take some rest these 2 weeks, but things have changed and that was only when yesterday evening your boss gave you a little ‘gift’. Your headache began to grow by thinking of the whole situation again. Though yesterday has been just fine with your little guest, you still don’t want to keep him. It’s the best for you. And you’re not only looking at your own feelings, but also at your life-style. A hybrid doesn’t fit into a ‘I get up at 8 and arrive home at 9’ kind of life-style. A hybrid needs care and attention in its life and sadly, you can’t give it to him.

You get up from your bed, head spinning a bit to the fact that you had just woken up. As you walk into the living room, you see Taehyung sitting straight on the couch, just looking out of the window. It looks rather odd. It’s as if he hasn’t done anything else than sitting there, in his pajamas while looking outside. Though, he looks fucking beautiful like this, even in the morning, but you still can’t stop worrying about his odd behavior.

You walk closer to him, making him turn his head as a smile suddenly blasted along his face. He still has that beautiful smile from yesterday, which you really adore about him. His whole face in general is a piece of art, not even one flaw that you could find upon it.

‘You’re an early bird, Taehyung, why don’t we make some breakfast for you?’ You ask, curiously waiting for his response. Though you don’t really know what he’d like to eat, you thought that he might also like pancakes, like you do, so that would be perfect for breakfast. It’s just, you’re so curious of his reaction some times, since he has been living in quite a sad environment, so what would he be comfortable and uncomfortable with?

‘Yea, I’d like that very much maste-… ___, I meant.’ He corrected himself vastly and you just smile at him, hoping that he would get used to the new kind of living vastly. Like you’ve already told him, you’re someone who sees everyone as equals and he needs to understand that term, ‘equal’, because he hasn’t been one ever in his life.

‘Do you want pancakes? If you don’t like it, I can get you something else.’

Taehyung’s smile only grew wider as he furiously nods his head, like he is getting some treat. It makes you smile in response, but deep down it still got you mad. You know you’re gonna kill some bitches if this was his first normal meal in his life.

A few minutes past and you had gotten ready 4 pancakes, 2 per person in this house. You’d had to convince him to sit on a chair, because he didn’t felt like he had as much right as you to sit on one. You had the urge to slap that nonsense out of his head. You can’t imagine someone has this kind of self-perspective. You came to a conclusion that he must’ve been brainwashed when younger, there isn’t any other option.

After some arguing, he finally sat down, still feeling pretty uncomfortable about it. You know you shouldn’t have forced him to sit down already, but you just can’t bear to see him sitting on the ground, eating his food like a fucking pet. He is a human for heaven’s sake, he deserves to sit on a normal chair.

‘How does it taste?’ You ask, smiling as you see him furiously eating his food. He tries to speak through, but only ended up on almost choking himself. You giggle as you vastly got a glass of water for him and he quickly drank it as soon as you placed the glass down on the table. He coughed a few times before replying with ‘It’s very delicious, thanks ___.’ and a big smile noticeable. ‘I’m happy to hear that.’ You responded.

You ate the rest of your food quietly, your mind wandering as you kept questioning about Taehyung’s past. You don’t know if this is the right time to ask him anything, if it’s even allowed. You just want to understand him, why he reacts the way he does on certain things. Once you understand, you might be able to get easier around him.

‘Taehyung?’

He looks up questionable, replying with a quick ‘Yes, ___?’

‘What was your life like in the last house you had to stay in? Like, your last owner?’ You bite your lip as you gazed at him. He stopped eating and placed down his cutlery. He looks bothered, his tail suddenly sweeping around as he looks down at his lap. You cock your head to the side, analyzing every little movement he makes. His fluffy ears are twitching too and you begin to think that you maybe shouldn’t have asked him that question, he really looks uncomfortable.

‘I-It was different from you. Like… I had to take a lot of orders and stuff…’ You can hear the way his voice became shaky and soon realized that he was on verge of crying. Your eyes widen as you heart sank, immediately scolding yourself for asking such a question. You don’t know what to do and you panic slightly. You want to stand up and wrap your arms around him, but you also don’t want to get too attached to this creature. Like yesterday, when he hugged you, you had felt this weird urge to hold him too, to feel him close and you’re just scared for another reaction like that.

‘’I-If you talk back to me, you will be… punished. If you r-refuse to give me what I want, you will be p-punished. So watch what you do little kitten.’, those were her words…’ He had printed those rules into his head like he printed the alfabeth in his head. He had to remember them, he didn’t want to get punished. Punishments were so tiring and scary, most of the times he would cry or have a panic attack after the punishments. He couldn’t say he hated them, he can’t have a opinion in this world. Well, that’s what he has been thought.

It was once different though. First, he was like every other boy. A human. He had a joyful youth, he had lovely parents and lovely friends. It was only until his parents died in a crash and all the money vanished into thin air, that he had no bright future anymore. One day, a guy came up to him and talked him into a deal that would be life-changing. Like a madman, desperate for money, he agreed to the deal. Little did he know, that he would be transformed into a fucking cat.

Oh boy, he had resisted so much. To every owner he had to go, he just hissed and complained. His hate was so great towards the company, but at some point in his life, he just gave up. It had been 2 years already and he got so much therapy that he just let himself brainwash, knowing it’s probably the best option to take. He’d rather just not-know than to feel the pain of losing any identity of himself.

He suddenly feels a tear falling onto his lap and he immediately knew he fucked up. Caught up in his own feelings, he let himself fall on the ground and began to bow for you. 

‘Bow for me little kitten! Like the little asian slut that you are.’ those words never failed to run through his mind for a couple times a day

You gasp as he bows in front of you, whispering soft apologies for crying in front of you as he doesn’t dare to look up into your eyes. You just stiffened, shocked by the event that is occurring right now. Your head doesn’t seem to catch up, so confused to why he would literally bow to you in apologizing manners. It took you at least 10 seconds before you stood up in a rush, reaching the same level as he was on and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up and looked for his eyes. His eyes are all buffed up and the tears kept falling down as small cries left his lips. You can literally see the pain, so much pain he had felt along the years, but hadn’t dared to show it.

You pulled him close against your body, arms around his torso as you let his head rest on your shoulder. After a while he also held your body, arms surrounding you and calming down slowly as he shoo-ed away the memories. You began to gently pet his hair and that really helped him, feeling the joyful strokes taking away his worries. You effect him in such a good way.

‘Don’t do that again Taehyung. Never apologize for showing your feelings towards another person. It’s a human thing, like you. You’re human and don’t forget that.’

‘Well damn, why would he do that to you?’

You sigh in response, shrugging as you sip on your hot coco. You look outside through the window as strangers pas the cafe where you’re seated in. You and your friend, Iris, decided on a quick get-together after you’d told her what’s going on right now in your life. You just had to relieve some frustration and Iris is the perfect person for that task. After you’d lulled Taehyung into sleep and  he had cried for a long time, you’d gone to a nearby cafe and waited fro Iris to arrive.

‘I have no fucking idea, he things I’m that desperate or something.’ you sigh again, looking back at Iris. She shakes her head in disbelieve, also getting tired of this bullshit. She has the same opinion on the whole ‘hybrid’ thing, finding it also above what can be approved into this world and hearing all the stories you’ve already told about Taehyung, she only gets more irritated.

‘I swear, I’m this close to sue those mother fuckers, along with your weird ass boss.’

You agree with her. When Taehung finally got back to sleep, you began thinking about what he had said. That people really would hurt him like that, demanding things on such a cruel way. So fucked up.

‘I will be going back now, before Taehyung wakes again.’

‘Aren’t you planning on keeping him? He seems way happier in your house than anywhere else.’ She asks, standing up as you do the same. You bite your lower lip, thinking about what she asked. You know he is happy with you, it’s not a secret for you. His eyes has been twinkling the moment you give him affection and it looks like he hasn’t felt such love in years now. But what you also know, there is something different between the both of you. Something that wants you to be closer to him as well and you’re kinda scared of it. Maybe it’s the same kind of attraction all those other owners felt and made them do horrible things to Taehyung. You don’t want him to experience that with you.

‘I better can not. But I’ll try to get him out of this fucked system for sure.’ You say with a nod, planning on keeping your words. You’ve already thought of different alternatives, like bringing him to a shelter, a place where brainwashed hybrids like him can get treatment and have a happy home. You know a place like that exists, you just have to find it. It must be deeply hidden for society, since Hy-tech probably doesn’t want their own creations to be taken away. But, how long it will even take, you will get him save for sure.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Iris smiles and pays the bill, making your frown. You want to protest, not liking that she is paying for you, but she hushes you. ‘You will pay the next time, don’t worry. You already have too much shit on your head anyways.’. You chuckle as you give her a quick hug before the both of you go your own way.

Iris really is a good friend, she always stays beside you and helps you on these hard days where you’re just lost. It’s also nice that she has the same mind-set as you, like a true friend.

When you arrive at home, the house is again silent and Taehyung is nowhere to be seen yet. You walk up to his room to check on him and as you walk inside, you see the sleeping body of the hybrid. You smile, happy that he’s able to get some rest. He must’ve been awake for a long time, maybe he hasn’t even been able to sleep at all last night. You don’t yet know what he’s been going through, you could only peek through a little hole to understand him, but it was enough for you to know that you have to be careful with him. He is broken, though he doesn’t let you know it.

You look on your watch, seeing that it’s only 1 pm and you still have a whole day ahead. Maybe you could get Taehyung out a little, taking him along your day. You were planning on grocery shopping anyways. Maybe he even wants to have some input in your choice of diner tonight. But for now, you let him sleep, the little trip can wait for a few hours.

You close his door again and walked to your couch to turn on the television, putting on some netflix series you haven’t been able to keep up with, since your job takes a lot of time. Though your job isn’t somewhat important, it still requires a lot of effort in your day, being a secretary at the company. The company itself is pretty big, having a base in many different countries, but having the headquarters at Korea. You are doing work for a department leader, keeping up with his schedule and all that stuff around it. It’s not interesting at all, it tires you out pretty much to be honest, but it pays the bills.

4 hours had past and you’re all caught up in the series that you’ve been watching for the past time. It was not until Taehyung walked into the room, rubbing his eyes and having a small pout, that you got out of your intoxication. He looks dinky like this, pouting and his eyes all puffed up. You gave him a small smile as you stand up yourself, looking at the clock to see it’s already 5 pm.

‘We’re going grocery shopping, well, if you want to come of course.’

He cocks his head to the side before slowly nodding, having to start up his system first since he just woke up. You chuckle as you walk up to him, petting his head for a second as he immediately leans in, a purr leaving his body as his eyes closed. Then you decided that he really loves to be pet. It’s not something to be shocked about, since he is still a cat, well, a lion.

His tail held onto your leg and his body came closer as if you’re some magnet. His arms were quick to get around your waist and to pull you close against his chest, sniffing your scent at your neck as he held you close. You’re somewhat startled by his affection towards you al of a sudden and you could feel some kind of feeling creeping up your body as well, making you dizzy. You want to hold him so close to you as if some animalistic feeling came up into you.

‘___, you smell so nice. My perfect mate…’ He cooed and you almost let out a moan by his words, but was quickly to take a step back with widened eyes. Fuck, what is he doing to you? You’re never someone to be effected by words or actions. How is he able to get you feeling so… different?

‘M-Mate?’ You stutter, genuinely questioning what he meant by that. He himself has to go back down to earth to understand what he just said and he gasped in response. He seems to be lost for words, looking around to avoid eye-contact. He is confused too. He would never say such a thing, not to his owner, not to anyone. But if he has to be completely honest, he does feels some really strong attraction when he comes closer to you and he doesn’t know if it’s just him or a real cause.

’Sorry, I just felt… I don’t know how to explain…’ He tries to find his words, but nothing can get up to him. You let out a breath, letting go of the tension within you and decide on just ignoring what had happened. If it was something that’s really important, it will come eventually. You’ve just met yesterday, so rushing anything out of the ordinary isn’t needed, also talking about the fact that he won’t be staying long at this house. This only made you realize that you have to be quick on finding that shelter, because you’re already close to keep this son of a bitch.

‘Just, put on some clothes.’ You say, gesturing to his room and he just nodded, knowing that this subject better be avoided for now. You both know it, you know something is up. For him, it isn’t really something to worry about, since it’s almost as clear as water, but he simply wants to avoid mating with his own owner. You on the other hand doesn’t understand it fully, you’re a human and you don’t have anything so called ‘animalistic’ in you blood. Well, maybe somewhere deep within you, you know what’s going on. But to you it doesn’t really make any sense right now.

Only 30 minutes later, the both of you were calmly walking back from the grocery store. The store is only 300 meters away from your little house, so walking there has never been a problem. The both of you haven’t spoken a word to each other since that one moment at the apartment. Apart from the little questions as ‘would you like to eat this’, nothing has been said. It’s not an uncomfortable silence thought, you’re just walking beside each other, enjoying the fresh air.

‘I’m sorry.’ Taehyung suddenly spoke. You huff, finding it somewhat ironic that he apologizes for something like this. He has nothing to feel sorry for, he doesn’t do anything intentional. He probably still feels very affected by the littlest of skinship between the both of you and you’re not blaming him for that, never.

‘Don’t be, it’s not your fault.’ You say, smiling at him as you try to comfort him. ‘You were just very effected by my touch, nothing else.’

‘No, it’s not like that ___.’ He says quietly, but with a stern tone. You frown as you wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. You bite your lip, now curious to his response. You know there is something, you simply don’t get it. He knows that too, since you’re a human being, you can’t feel certain things. Or maybe you do, but you can’t place it as well as an animal can. It’s logical.

‘Then what is it like?’

It was silent for a few seconds. Taehyung is deciding on wether to tell you or to not tell you. He really goddamn wants to though, he wants to be with you as soon as possible, ever since he realized what has been going on. It’s like that in his world, once he knows you’re his mate, he will chase after you like you’re a pray. But he also knows that he can’t do that with his own owner, you are his leader, not his mate. It goes against the rules of his nature, but how can he ignore something this obvious?

‘Do you really want to know?’ He asks carefully, glancing up into your awaiting eyes. You nod and you’re not lying at all, what is there that you can’t seem to see? You know it must be something with the whole ‘mate’ thing. But what does that include? You don’t really know anything for that matter, you’re not really good informed about hybrids in general, what their animalistic features are including.

‘So, what I’ve been feeling and probably you too… Is what we call ‘finding your mate’.’ He tries to explain, making you more confused. ‘What is a mate?’ You ask. He hesitates again, maybe he shouldn’t tell you, maybe you aren’t ready for the truth. What if you don’t even want him? He knows that he can’t stay away from his mate, but humans surely can if they just ignore their intuition. It’s simple for humans, really.

‘It’s someone who you’re destined to be with. When you touch, you’d feel electrician go through your veins and you would feel very affected by each other. It’s what I feel with you and you also with me.’

‘Why do I feel it? I’m human…’ You’re confused. You once had read somewhere that animals have like a ‘mate’ or something, but you’ve never heard that it’s also with humans. Not human-to-human at least.

‘It must be because I feel it so strong, that it effects your body.’ He now turns back to look in front of him, but you just kept your gaze on his, startled and shocked. If it’s true what he is saying, then you are destined to be with a hybrid. That can’t be, you can’t be partnered up with a half-human-half-animal person. That can’t be…

‘Ah, we’re home.’ Taehyung declares, bringing you back to earth. You fish your keys out of your pocket an opened the door, letting in the hybrid first before you step inside, still having deep thoughts over the whole situation. You don’t know what to think nor do at that moment. What if Taehyung’s right? What if you’re destined to be with each other? Do you have to take him into your house? That’s just impossible, thinking back to your life-style and the amount of money you get. Yes, you earn enough money to spend on yourself, but two people?

‘___… You should know that I won’t stop trying to get closer to you… It’s my nature to do so, so I’m sorry if it might make you uncomfortable.’ He is genuinely sorry for his behavior and he knows what’s about to come once he will really want to get closer to you, to feel you and kiss you and fuck you- no, not yet. You need to get eased into the idea of being together with him first. He can’t make you his when you yourself hasn’t made up your mind yet. Because once you will be his mate, thinks will furiously change. He would be able to smell you, know where you are, know what you feel. Being mated is something really affectional and intimate, something you’re really willing to do.

You again bite on your lip upon hearing his words. You nod your head slowly, trying to understand where he’s coming from. This morning he was still this cute and sad thing, wandering around your house. But now it feels as if you need to stay away as much as possible from him. You can’t grow feelings for this boy, though your body says differently, you need to get your head straight. 

‘I’ll make us diner now.’ You declare and he nods, letting you trespass. He clenched his jaw, already feeling the urge to grab you and hold you close to him, but he held himself strong. He walks behind you to the kitchen, wanting to see how you will be preparing his meal. Though he has been almost blind to see anything else but your smell and affection the last few hours, he still very much appreciate the effort you put in stay at your home. Like this morning, he was so caught up in his own shit, that he almost broke himself. It was you who saved him to keep him thinking straight and it was then that he knew that you were something more than just his owner. Only his real mate could comfort him with just a single touch.

The night went on slowly, feeling the constant tension between the both of you. It wasn’t a tension of awkwardness, it was a tension that was unexplainable for you, but knowingly for Taehyung. It’s like a process, finding your mate. First it’s confusion from both of the sides, trying to figure out why you feel so attracted. Then realization, what is mostly even more confusing. Then you’re going to open yourself up to your mate, sending out certain energy which will catch the significant other. It’s not something you do on purpose, it’s something that nature arranges.

Every single movements he takes, every single breath and noise, you are aware of it. It’s as if your senses are on its highest level. You’ve never been so aware of someone else and it’s so strange. He is just sitting on the couch next from you, doing nothing much but it still got you off guard when he moves only a little bit. Taehyung feels the same and he moves on purpose to get you on edge, making you to want him. He knows it’s sinful that he does that to you, his own owner, but you don’t know it’s on purpose, so nothing will go wrong right? By that, once he gets you in his arms, he will be the dominant one in the relationship. It’s how it goes in the animal world, the male is always leading.

You’ve been noticing something like that too, a weird type of feeling flowing through the air. He suddenly gives these leader-vibes, like he suddenly owns this room, though he hasn’t done anything differently.

‘Can I sit next to you like yesterday?’ Taehyung suddenly asked and you just nod without thinking, soon regretting your choice. Because, when he leans up against your body, head on your shoulder and softly purring under his breath, you almost couldn’t stop but to press your thighs close to each other. Your body is literally on fire, this much of an affection he has on you. fuck fuck fuck, ___, keep it together. What in god’s sake is wrong with you?

Suddenly, Taehyung shoots his head up from your shoulder and looks at you with widened eyes. His eyes travel down to your crotch for a split second, making you scared for his reaction. He knows it, he knows that your body is literally graving for his attention right now.

‘___, are you that horny? I have been trying to ignore the smell for a whole hour now, but you’re literally screaming for me aren’t you?’

His voice was very low and you couldn’t do anything but to nod silently, enchanted by his dominant behavior. He has you right where he has been wanting you, he only didn’t though that you would be getting worked up about it so fast. He wants to touch you so bad right now and his body is also graving you, but it’s still too fast. You’re a human, you will end up regretting sleeping with him and will throw him out. That is how humans are after al, throwing away their worries like it’s nothing.

He grabs your waist and pins you down onto the couch, his body between your legs as you see his ears twitch in nervousness, but eyes dark and lustful. His tail is around your leg affectively and his eyes roam over your body, hands rubbing your waist.

‘I’d love to fuck you all night, princess, but we can’t. Because you first need to make up that pretty little mind of yours before I mark you as my own mate.’ He says, hips making small movements against yours to still create a little friction. Your body twitches under his, a loud moan leaving your mouth as the tension breaks between you two.

‘Just wait a little, we’ll get there.’

He gets off with a smirk, leaving you in your state and got to his own room. He wants to get you flustered like that, to manipulate your thoughts. He is going to get you to be his own and nothing will stand in his way.

Masterlist

[backtothestart02]

Mind Games - 2/?

A/N: Introducing Barry and Iris this chapter! I hope you'll be intrigued going forward if you were all 'where are westallen???' last chap. lol. Next chap I should FINALLY be getting to the content from the original insta story. Also, I'm upping the rating of this fic to M, since there is a smut scene in this chap (first scene, fyi) and prob will be at least a couple more at some point throughout. Plus, later on it'll get somewhat violent in the second half of the story, so I thought it was appropriate.

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta'ing. :D

Chapter 2 -

Iris West-Allen was not a morning person.

After a shower, a cup of coffee, and a kiss from her husband – then absolutely, yes. But in those first moments when rays of sunlight shone through the window or the buzzing or obnoxious noise coming from her phone signaled an alarm going off? Nope, not one bit. Iris West-Allen loved her sleep.

Today was no different.

So, when the warmth of the sun stretched across her uncovered skin and the seconds ticked away until she knew her alarm was imminent, Iris begged the world to turn back time another hour. Just one hour extra of sleep to stay cuddled against her husband in their very warm bed.

As was often the case however, she knew that the closer to her alarm going off time went, the more difficult it was to fall back asleep when her consciousness was already starting to wake up. Reluctantly, with a resigned sigh, Iris reached across her side of the bed to her phone that was no doubt seconds from alerting her to the morning. Before she reached it though, a longer, warm arm stretching across hers reached the phone instead. Without even opening his eyes, her husband turned off the alarm.

She smiled to herself and murmured a “thanks,” followed by a pleasant shiver rippling up and down her spine when Barry Allen pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, sweeping her dark tresses aside with his nose. His arm tightened around her waist, but she had little time to enjoy the comfort of the embrace before shock zipped through her at the hard length that pushed up against her ass.

She gasped quietly.

“Morning wood,” he whispered into her hair.

There wasn’t a single hint of seduction, and somehow that made him even more desirable. It turned her on immediately – the knowledge that his body reacted to her so instantaneously despite him not deliberately thinking about sex first thing in the morning.

She licked her lips and thought about what to do next. This could go one of two ways. Either she could just attempt to ignore the very blatant hint of her husband’s arousal pressed between them and go back to sleep for a little while longer – or she could use the evidence as cause to pursue something hot and steamy before getting ready for work.

She loved sleep a lot, so that first option definitely appealed to her, but also…

She wriggled her butt a little against him. She heard his breathing hitch and smiled smugly to herself. A moment later his breathing returned to normal, and so she figured he thought he’d imagined it or that it hadn’t been deliberate. So, she did it again, this time a little more forcefully. And just in case he hadn’t taken the hint, she lifted his hand, previously covering her clothed stomach, to cup one lacy-covered breast.

“Iris,” he hissed in her ear, groaning as his head fell to her shoulder.

His hand squeezed her breast and deftly lowered the top of her nightie, so he could cup a mound full of flesh.

Iris licked her lips and reached behind her, grabbing his dick in her hands and gripping it tightly. In response, Barry lifted his hand to her jaw and turned her face so he could lock their lips in a passionate kiss. Once accomplished, he lowered his hand down her body till his fingers dipped inside her panties and into her moist core, evoking a moan out of her when he found her erect clit.

“Barry.”

She broke her mouth free of his, pumping his dick faster as his lips latched onto her neck and began to kiss their way down to the top of her back.

Iris would have no more of it though. She turned completely in his arms and pushed him all the way onto his back, straddling him.

“You smug bastard,” she teased, looking down at him as he grinned up at her.

“Me?” he asked innocently, smoothing his hands over her hips and lower back.

“Yes, you.”

“I’m not the one who turned down a few extra minutes of sleep for morning sex.”

“We’re not having sex yet,” she pointed out.

His eyes turned dark and devious, and she knew she was going to love what happened next. In a heartbeat she was on her back and they were both naked. She loved how he hovered over her, a mixture of lust and love in his eyes just before he lowered his lips to kiss hers. He proceeded to trail sweet, sensuous kisses down her body until he was at her core, lapping at her juices.

She moaned loudly, arching up against him to the point he had to hold her thighs firmly in place.

“We can’t do this all day, Barry,” she half-heartedly protested. “I have to get…get ready for work.” She gasped and cried out when he vibrated his tongue against her clit, pushing her over the edge.

Breathing heavily, she was only half aware that he was hovering over her again, waiting until she met his eyes. He waited a few beats, his hands clenching in the sheets on either side of her. He was so ready. She glanced down at his thick cock and then back into his smoldering green eyes.

“Yeah?” he rasped.

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a steamy, tongue-twisting kiss. She bit his bottom lip and tugged gently before releasing him a moment later.

“Yeah,” she whispered, nearly shrieking the tail end of the word as he thrust into her.

He retreated almost entirely and then thrust again, repeating the motion, speeding up quickly, until he was going so fast she was just short of telling him to slow down. But she couldn’t. It felt so good.

“Oh, my God, Barry,” she moaned, her nails digging into his back as she held on for dear life. His back was so slick with sweat she almost didn’t succeed.

“Fuck, Iris,” he barked, nipping at her neck when he briefly slowed to savor the feel of her.

Their eyes met, then one, two, three, deep thrusts and he pulled out to cum on her belly – the stark contrast of light against dark satisfying them both beyond belief.

Iris sighed contently, running her fingers through his damp hair.

“I almost want to say we should always wake up this way, but then you’d get used to it.”

Barry lifted his head to meet her eyes and smiled tenderly at her before lowering his body beside her and tracing the lines of her arms and full figure with his fingertips.

“I’ll never get used to you, Iris West-Allen.”

She smiled back at him, her heart bursting with joy.

“I love you, Barry Allen.”

He closed the distance between them with an eskimo kiss and then a real one.

“I love you, too.”

…

A dingy basement wasn’t the most ravishing view to dwell in day in and day out, but Amunet Black was not about to complain. She liked the damp atmosphere, the feeling of toxicity that anyone who entered her lair felt the moment they walked in. She didn’t need a first-rate establishment. She had the top drug on the market. Her business was booming, and aside from one problematic reporter by the name of Iris West-Allen, she was in no danger of being uncovered.

She sat at a metal desk on the far side of the room, tapping her long decorative fingernails against the surface, contemplating her situation. If she could just get that little problem out of the way she could more fully focus on the success of her business. She could actually enjoy herself. And when the low life, Reverb – she rolled her eyes at the name – had finished her machine, she would be unstoppable.

“Edgar,” she called out without looking up from the neat pile of tiny Ziploc bags filled with drugs sitting on the table.

A solidly built man stepped into the doorway from the outside hall. She glanced up at him when he responded with little more than an attempted intimidating stare and an ugly grunt.

“Come here,” she said firmly with the type of sour sweetness she so excelled at.

He walked into the room and stopped a few feet away from her.

“This…Iris West-Allen…” She paused and looked up at him. “Would you consider her a threat?”

He didn’t appear to comprehend. This was, she realized, the problem with not hiring smart hit men. Then again, she didn’t want to risk someone outsmarting her – a rarity – and making the grave mistake of trying to overtake her organization; or maybe worse, outright leaving. She thought about the feisty brunette she’d taken under her wing that had attempted the former and brazenly succeeded at the latter.

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” she answered herself, picking up the packets of drugs and plopping them down in a new pile. “I don’t consider her much of a threat myself…yet. But she is a reporter, and a very good one, I regret to admit. If she keeps going, she could find something vital to our organization and exploit it. We certainly can’t have that. Not when I’m so close to having my empire expand so magnificently.”

She beamed just thinking of the chaos she would unload to her competitors. No one would rival her expertise or the blind devotion she so readily obtained from her closest henchmen.

Finally, she looked up at the still silent Edgar who stood before her.

“Edgar.”

“Yes, Amunet?”

“I would like you to send a message to our eager little reporter friend.”

“A message?” he asked, his expression changing for the first time into one of confusion. He no doubt had expected orders to kill or at least kidnap.

“Yes.” She smiled pleasantly. “I will write a short note, and you will deliver it. If it doesn’t scare her off, then we will take more…forceful measures.”

He nodded. “I will wait for you to finish it.” He turned to walk back towards the hall.

“Oh, no need. This will be quick.”

She pulled out a squeaky drawer in the desk she sat at and retrieved a small notepad and pen. In under thirty seconds she’d decided what she wanted to say and quite exquisitely written it and folded the piece of paper, handing it over to him.

“Be discreet,” she said. “Nothing must lead back to us.”

He nodded gruffly and was nearly out the door when she called out to him again.

“Take Penny with you,” she advised.

He looked over his shoulder in question.

“She looks the part of an office girl. Have her slip into an appropriate uniform and make the drop-off.”

He turned back around and headed out, but Amunet didn’t need to worry that he wouldn’t follow her orders. The benefit to her dumb muscle was that they excelled at two things – successfully injuring or killing the intended target and always, always following her orders.

…

The office was buzzing as usual with all the run-of-the-mill journalism going on. There was nothing out of the ordinary – research, phone calls, pestering the boss, pestering co-workers, complaining about assignments, taking extra long lunches… but Iris was stuck in a perpetual grin. She didn’t even realize the smile was so plastered to her face until her sports reporter friend, Linda, popped on over to her desk, propping her hip against it.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

Iris blinked and looked up at her, aware for the first time that the open document on her computer was completely blank and had been for the last hour.

“What?”

“Well.” Linda sat on the corner of her desk and crossed one knee over the other. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting my day analyzing your odd behavior. But…you’ve been smiling all day and you only had one cup of coffee. “Spill.”

Iris laughed and shook her head.

“I just…love my husband.”

Linda raised her eyebrows. “What’d he do this time? Give you lunch money?”

Iris shook her head, now attempting to fight the smile but still failing.

“I didn’t see him come in today, so he couldn’t have taken you out for lunch.”

“No, he didn’t. I ate at my desk.”

“I know. I was with you.”

She blinked, her brows briefly furrowing. “Oh. Right.”

Now Linda laughed. “Girl, you’re glowing. What’s up with you?”

She shrugged and twisted a dark curl around her finger.

“My husband’s good to me, what can I say?”

Linda rolled her eyes.

“I know you guys absolutely refuse to leave the honeymoon phase-”

“It’s not a phase for us,” she defended. “We’re genuinely in love.”

“All right, Disney. So, tell me what the doting husband did for you today?”

“Actually, I think it’s something I did…or started at least.”

“Iris.” She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. Her friend looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Stop beating around the bush. What happened? And how in the world could you be so happy about him if it’s something you did? It must’ve been one hell of a-” She stopped, a possibility dawning on her. “Sex.”

“What?” Iris asked, more from shock that she’d guessed it than that it was what had her so particularly cheerful.

“You guys had morning sex.” She leaned back and folded her arms against herself. “Must’ve been pretty fantastic if you’re still on cloud nine at…” She lifted her wrist to check her watch. “Three pm.”

Iris shrugged innocently. “It was definitely good.”

Linda laughed. “Something tells me it was more than just ‘good’.” She slipped her hand into her pocket to retrieve a small piece of paper and tossed it onto Iris’ desk.

“What’s this?”

“Postal worker handed it to me when I was coming back from lunch. I forgot about it until now. She said it’s for you.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

She started to lean over to see what it might say, but just as Iris was opening it she closed it. She raised an eyebrow at her friend instead.

“I’m entitled to some privacy, aren’t I?”

Linda rolled her eyes and hopped off her desk.

“Fine, fine. But if it’s juicy, I want to know.”

Iris laughed, but it was strained. Surprisingly, Linda didn’t notice it.

“No promises,” she called back as her friend returned to her own desk and resumed her assignments for the day.

Once Linda was fully focused on her own work, Iris flipped open the note and read it again – over and over to be sure she wasn’t reading into it too much.

She suspected that unfortunately she wasn’t and swallowed hard. She opened the document she’d been secretly working in for months that was flooded with pictures, some including the signature that had an uncanny similarity to the penmanship in the note she held in her hands.

Stop digging. Your husband has such a pretty face.

She folded the note away and stuck it into her pocket, a nasty chill reverberating over her entire body, a single whisper slipping passed her suddenly very dry lips.

“Amunet.”

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[victakestaipei]

WEEK 4 RECAP: “Power, Chase Bank Complaints, and TYPHOON SEASON”

As I stated in my previous posts, I’m really really really sorry for the delay here on my WEEK 4 RECAP. Granted, my weeks have started to become pretty routine; But I still like to keep my word with you guys and blog every weekend, despite the topic being my humdrum weekdays.

Anyway, let’s get to it:

Monday: 

My monday was one for the books, honestly. I stayed in bed all day long blogging and doing homework and just being a bum. It felt awesome. We got in from the Philippines early this morning, and I didn’t actually get in the bed until about 4am, so I took the liberty of playing hooky, and NO RAGRETS! 

I only left the house to get breakfast with Bunny... We went to this breakfast joint by our house and I splurged on an egg scallion pancake, a breakfast sandwich, orange juice, and a hash brown patty. It was bomb, but who am I kidding, it’s always bomb. I didn’t end up doing my homework until later in the evening, which ended up backfiring because I had SO MUCH HOMEWORK TO CATCH UP ON. It was actually pretty insane, but I still got it all done. For dinner Bunny and I picked up some potstickers from the place right outside our dorms that you all have already heard SO much about because we literally go there multiple times a week. Like I said in my intro... HUM. DRUM. 

Tuesday:

Today we went to the bakery before class, I had my daily tea, and barely survived the 3 hour period. After class we went to the gym, and I did leg day today. My legs were shaking so much, it was like they had turned to jelly over the weekend. I think this is due to the fact I took 4 days off🙄 but I managed to get my mile down to 8:30 today!!! Y’ALL!!! BASK IN THE GLORY!!! Progress!!! Slowly but surely!!!  

After the gym we went to a restaurant on the Shi Da market for lunch, and ordered fried chicken curry with rice and veggies. It was super good, and only 100 NT! (About $3.35 US).  

Afterwards, we went home and I took the longest shower ever, and then a nap (I really really needed it). I got up just to do homework, and then crawled back into the bed. I found a website that lets me watch Power online so that I can FINALLY catch up to the new season. BLESS UP!!! I started watching this show over the summer, but then I got caught up with other stuff so I never caught all the way up. I last left off on Season 2 Episode 7, but I heard the new season 4 is BATSHIT CRAZY so I need to catch up PRONTO. (Also, can I just take a minute and say I freakin’ hate Angela??? Ugh. Tasha is a ride or DIE and Angela comes waltzing in and I’m just mad as hell. Ghost is such a punkass. I literally cannot deal. Let me shut up while I’m ahead before ya’ll comment and spoil something for me.)

...He still fine as hell though... :-’)

For dinner we went to the Gong guan night market to get Gua Bao (remember those pork hamburger things from my “WEEK 2 RECAP” post? “Gua Bao? Gua BOMB!”) and egg scallion pancakes. We didn't leave the house until after 11pm, so alot of our options were closed at that point. 

Wednesday: 

I actually got up on time to head to the bus, and I was WELL RESTED!! Wow, such a rare occurance. In class I got a 95% on my dialogue quiz today. I’m getting used to pulling these A’s, but our lessons have gotten significantly harder so I find myself reviewing the characters twice as much as usual. Ew.

At the gym I did chest/shoulders/abs. I wore the wrong leggings to the gym today... I wore my normal black leggings instead of my work out leggings, so I didn't do cardio because I didn't want to be all sweaty in my normal cloth leggings... I don’t know I'm weird I guess?? But my ass was looking PHAT at the gym since I had normal leggings on hehe

After the gym Bunny and I tried this Italian spot by our school. They have a lunch menu where you can get a dish AND a side for 99 NT!!! (3-4$ US). What a deal!! I ordered pesto penne pasta and pumpkin soup as my side. Pretty plain, but still super yummy!

After lunch I went home to shower and do my homework and relax. Bunny and I got dinner around 9 because we were STARVING more than usual. I guess the soup and pasta didn’t do it for me. We hopped on the bus to head to Gong guan, but we missed our exit so we ended up taking the bus all the way to our school to go to the Shi Da night market there. MIND YOU I LOOK LIKE A CRAZY CAT LADY. I twisted my hair up and put on two bandanas after taking a shower and putting product in... and I had on a long flowy printed dress I got from the Philippines. Needless to say I looked crazy, in my shower flip flops. We got the soy sauce noodles to-go, with green beans, udon, cabbage, broccoli, and tofu. I also got to chat with my mom on skype tonight which was nice, after struggling to get her speakers to work (for like 20min) so she could actually hear me. I stuffed my face while on the phone with her, and she cheekily said “how come whenever I get you on skype you ALWAYS EATIN??” Then proceeds to laugh hysterically and say “you gonna regret it!! It’s gonna go straight to your hips!!!” ......So charming *eyeroll*, gotta love her lol.... 

I went to bed super late because I had the migraine of a lifetime. I think it might have been because I didn’t get a tea this morning... Caffeine headaches will be the death of me.

Thursday: 

I woke up with the same migraine, and was moving slow because I was so tired and my head was banging!! It was like the drummer guy from Whiplash was putting in WERK on my forehead. I was about 10 minutes late to class... I tried to rush because I knew we had a test in class, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get out of the bed on time. Kokoro (the Japanese student in my class) and I rode on the same bus to class, he was late too because he had gone clubbing last night! On a Wednesday??... Turns out, it doesn’t matter what day of the week it is here, it’s lit at the club every night. 

Class was good today. It didn't feel like it dragged as much. But, I was starving the whole time because I didn’t have time to grab some food before strolling into the class. Our teacher referenced the upcoming typhoon today! Meaning, it will be pouring, dumping rain all next week, starting this weekend. There will also be fierce winds. She told us how many people stay home and grocery shop a lot beforehand because transportation and a lot of businesses are closed. For those of you who don’t know, a typhoon is basically a hurricane. I'm not mentally prepared. Our teacher said that typhoon season lasts three months, starting in August. I’m nervous about the food aspect because we don't have a fridge in the dorm so I'm about to be eating perishables all week... canned beans and rice? God, I’m not excited. But maybe class will be cancelled a few days this week? A girl can dream!!!

In the gym it was leg day yet again! My legs weren’t half as shaky as tuesday so that’s good. I ran a 8:45 mile, after almost DYING on the first treadmill I hopped on. I was adjusting the speed and the treadmill skipped and I almost flew the fuck off. My arms were flailing and I let out this loud/awkward noise and everyone was looking at me. I caught my balance and didn't die, but I definitely quietly turned off the machine and moved to another treadmill shortly after. I think that messed up my mojo because while I was running I was constantly paranoid of the same thing happening on the machine next door. 

After the gym the three of us went to Shi Da market. I pulled out cash from the ATM but was pretty bitter about it because I looked at my bank statement and my bank (Chase Bank) charges a $5 FEE WITH EVERY NON-CHASE ATM WITHDRAWAL that I make... THAT ADDS UP?!!! Are u kidding me??! I’M BROKE AS IT IS CHASE, CUT ME SOME SLACK!!! I'm so salted. I hate Chase Bank. They suck ass. Do you know how many WITHDRAWALS I’VE HAD TO MAKE WHILE HERE??? I need a Charles Schwab account because it seems like they’re the only bank not trying to PLAY US.

I tried a new place for lunch where they had these small fried dumplings. I would show a picture but I inhaled it so fast that I didn't get to. So here's a picture of the box...hehe

I also got some more dragonfruit today    V   so so good.

After the gym I came home, showered, and relaxed. I ended up napping around 8 and woke up at like 10:30pm... I did my homework in class so I'm probably just going to eat something small and crawl back into the bed. I got a banana at the Family Mart convenience store and some apple juice and a pack of yan yans. Yan Yans are those pretzel stick things that come with the chocolate dip and they’re super good?? I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. I talked to Karis on the phone, and then Paris shortly after that. It was SO GOOD to see Paris’s face and hear his voice after so long. :-’) I miss you roomie!! I knocked out again after hanging up with him.

Friday: 

This morning I woke up to a power outage on our Gong guan campus. If this is any tell of how the rest of the weekend/next week is going to be with the upcoming typhoon, I am not ready.

I got a 99 on my quiz today... I. AM. HURT. It was so so close I could taste the perfect score!!

Today I brought my umbrella to class because the typhoon starts this afternoon/evening. Class breeezed by because there was only 7 of us today. It was back day at the gym, and it was great! I’m definitely going to be sore. And I did some booty workouts on the floor afterward. After the gym we went to Gong guan market (the one by our house, not the Shi Da one by campus) to get some food and look for a SIM card for Bunny’s phone (so that she can have a local phone number and consistent data). We stopped and got pork buns and mango before heading home. 

When I got home I finally was able to decompress from the long week. I relaxed for a few hours before leaving the house at 10pm to go to the grocery store with Bunny. When we got to the grocery store, it was about an hour or so before closing, and it looked like the apocalypse hit. All the shelves were sweeped, but we got some food to get us through the weekend.... Like wine and rice and potatoes and eggs and snacks. After the grocery store we headed home to relax and shelter away from the upcoming typhoon.

Saturday: 

I made breakfast this morning after finally leaving the bed at 1:30 pm. I made eggs and papas!! - An old fave. (Jaylene I miss you). I also cut up some apples too to eat with peanut butter. It was good, but the papas weren't up to par because I only had two seasonings... Sad day. 

The rest of the day was spent in bed, watching Power and being a couch potato. At 8:30pm our power went out again, but only for a few minutes. It was getting pretty crazy outside at this point. You could hear the wind howling and tree branches swinging and water pushing its way through the cracks in the closed windows of the bathroom/bedroom. 

At 9pm is when I spilled my Pink Moscato on my laptop. HOW COULD SOMETHING SO SWEET BETRAY ME SO HARSHLY?? My computer immediately died after letting out this depressing noise and became completely non-responsive...and so did I. I was on the brink of a meltdown. To keep from succumbing to panic, I put my phone on DND and went to sleep at 9:30pm. I literally knocked the hell out. That’s the best way to avoid problems/conflict right? Take ya ass to sleep.

Sunday:

I woke up by 4:45/5am, and reality set in. I spoke to my mom on the phone, and she helped calm me down and rationalize the situation. I was a mess. I still am a mess. I cannot afford a new computer right now, and I'm nervous about going to get it fixed because I don't want to be taken advantage of, and I wouldn't know the difference either way... I'm clearly foreign. But I have 8 years of memories and information stored on this laptop, so I'm not letting it go without a fight. I called a few places that claim to fix Apple products on Google, but none of them turned up with any real answers. So after 12pm, I ended up going to the Apple Store at Taipei 101. I took a quick shower and brought a bunch of stuff I figured I might need: my laptop, external hard drive, a flannel, umbrella, towels, a hat, and snacks. I've never been outside when there was a typhoon brewing so it's better safe than sorry right? As soon as I walked outside I could tell something was off. There weren't a lot of people bustling about, and there were countless fallen branches and leaves covering the sidewalks and roads.

I hopped on the bus, and then the MRT, to head to Taipei 101, the tallest skyscraper in Taiwan. I had this lingering thought in the back of my mind... let me illustrate... “Is it a good idea to go to the tallest sky scraper in Taiwan when there’s a hurricane with strong winds/ pouring rain just waiting to happen?”... All i could picture is the structure toppling over with all of us inside and causing this huge disaster, similar to something straight out of an Apocalyptic movie like 2012.... Anyway, I arrived just before 1pm, and come to find out, the Apple Store is CLOSED. I’m salty. All the lights are on and the store would otherwise look open, it's just that there's no one inside. It's completely empty. Even all the devices on display are powered on. It was kinda errie... Like those paper towns the military sets up, where it looks like a normal town and everything, just no one lived there...  I looked online (again) and went to their actual website where it says today (and only today) they open at 2pm instead of 11am. So I just waited around the mall for an hour until they opened. I found a bench and an outlet so I was just sitting here chilling....Glad I brought my snacks. ;)

When the time finally came to go back to the Apple Store, that overwhelming feeling came rushing over me again. I ended up crying like a PUNK to the customer service lady. So annoying!!! Ugh. I was a fragile mess. I spoke to two different managers who both spoke perfect English, and they helped to reassure me that they would try their best to help me. I have to come back tomorrow for a walk-in appointment with the Genius Bar. Fingers crossed they can help me, or at least retrieve/save my information. 

I left Taipei 101 feeling pretty defeated, so I got some McDonalds on the way home... I know it sounds silly but I needed comfort food and something that felt like home. I ordered the filet o fish (which I crave daily), with fries and a coke. This was not my best moment, but the whole meal only cost 95 NT!! (Less than $3.20). CRAZY! 

I came home and that’s when I started reading my book that I keep mentioning, “You Are A Badass” By Jen Sincero. It helped me to feel better and get into a better frame of mind. 

I took a break from reading to help Bunny make curry for tonight’s dinner. It was BOMB and came out fairly well if I may say so myself. I’ll definitely be making curry more often when I come back to the States.

I finished reading my book just before calling it a night. SUCH a good read I cannot stress this enough!!! I learned so much from Jen’s words and she adds funny stories/anecdotes and the way she describes things is just so relatable. If you have a chance to read it I definitely recommend!!!

I went to sleep pretty late, I was laying in bed catching up with Jay (via text) and other friends from back home. Before closing my eyes, I decided to practice meditation, which is one of the key concepts in the book. I wasn’t very successful the first time, because it was hard to clear my mind and just be still. I know it takes practice, so I’m going to try to dedicate time every day to meditate for at least 5 minutes! Feel free to join me on this challenge, it’s supposed to reap unprecidented benefits!

Also, please pray that when I take my laptop in tomorrow to the Apple Store they can fix whatever’s wrong!!! I need all the prayers I can get. I’m speaking it into existence now: MY COMPUTER WILL LIVE. IT WILL RISE AGAIN. IT WILL POWER ON.

Until next time,

xoxo