#i booked my journey (train 1) months ago

[worstjourney]

The Millennials' Polar Expedition

A year ago today (23 Nov 2022), I launched Worst Journey Vol.1 at the Scott Polar Research Institute. This is the text of the speech I gave to the lovely people who turned up to celebrate.

As many of you know, my interest in the Terra Nova Expedition was sparked by Radio 4’s dramatisation of The Worst Journey in the World, now 14 years ago.  The story is an incredible story, and it got its claws into me, but what kept me coming back again and again were the people.  I couldn’t believe anyone so wonderful had ever really existed.  So when I finally succumbed to obsession and started reading all the books, it was the expedition members’ own words which I most cherished.  These were not always easy to come by, though, so plenty of popular histories were consumed as well.  Reading both in tandem, it soon became clear that, while there were some good books out there, there was a lot of sloppy research in the polar echo chamber as well.

I also discovered that no adaptation had attempted to get across the full scope of the expedition.  There has never been a full and fair dramatic retelling, all having been limited by time, budget, or ideology from telling the whole story truthfully.  I was determined that my adaptation would be both complete and accurate, and be as accountable as possible to those precious primary documents and the people who wrote them.

So the years of research began.  I moved to Cambridge to be able to drop in at SPRI and make the most of the archives.  Getting to Antarctica seemed impossible, but I went to New Zealand to get at least that much right, and on the way back stayed with relatives in Alberta, the most Antarctic place I could realistically visit.  I gathered reference for objects wherever I could.  Because Vol.1 takes place mainly on the Terra Nova, which is now a patch of sludge on the seabed off Greenland, I cobbled together a Franken-Nova in my mind, between the Discovery up in Dundee and the Star of India in San Diego.  I spent a week on a Jubilee Sailing Trust ship in order to depict tall-ship sailing correctly.  I’m sure I’ve still got loads of things wrong, but I did all I could, to get as much as I could, right.

But still, everyone I met who had been to Antarctica said, “you can’t understand Antarctica until you’ve been there, and you can’t tell the story without understanding Antarctica; you have to go.”  So I applied to the USAP’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program, with faint hope, as they do “Ahrt” and I draw cartoons.  But I must have blagged a good grant proposal, because a year after applying, I was stepping out of a C-17 onto the Ross Ice Shelf.  The whole trip would have been worth it just to stand there, turn in a circle, and see how all the familiar photographs fit together.  But the USAP’s generosity didn’t stop there, and in the next month I saw Hut Point, Arrival Heights, the Beardmore Glacier (including the moraine on which the Polar Party stopped to “geologise”), and Cape Crozier, and made three visits to the Cape Evans hut.  Three!  On top of the visual reference I got priceless qualitative data.  The hardness of the sound.  The surprising warmth of the sun. The sugary texture of the snow.  The keen edge on a slight breeze.  The way your fingertips and toes can start to go when the rest of you is perfectly warm.  The SHEER INSANITY of Cape Crozier.  The veterans were right – I couldn’t have drawn it without having been there, but now I have, and can, and I am more grateful than I can ever adequately express.  With all these resources laid so copiously at my feet, all I had to do was sit down and draw the darn thing.  Luckily I have some very sound training to back me up on that.

Now, this is all very well for the how of making the book, and, I hope, interesting enough. But why?  Why am I putting so much effort into telling this story, and why now?

Well, it means a lot to me personally.  To begin to understand why, you need to know that I grew up in the 80s and 90s, at the height of individualist, goal-oriented, success-driven, dog-eat-dog, devil-take-the-hindmost neoliberalism.  It was just assumed that humans, when you get right down to it, were basically self-interested jerks, and I saw plenty of them around so I had no reason to question this assumption.  The idea was that if you did everything right, and worked really hard, you could retire at 45 to a yacht in the Bahamas, and if you didn’t retire to a yacht, well, you just hadn’t tried hard enough.  Character, in the sense of rigorous personal virtue, was for schmucks.  What mattered was success.  Even as my politics evolved, I still took it as a given that this was how the world worked, and that was how people generally were – after all, there was no lack of corroborating evidence.  So: I worked really hard.  I single-mindedly pursued my self-interest.  I made sacrifices, and put in the time, and fought my way into my dream job and all the success I could have asked for.

And then I met the Terra Nova guys.

What struck me most about them was that even when everything was going wrong, when their expectations were shattered and they had to face the cruellest reality, they were still kind.  Not backbiting, recriminating, blame-throwing, defensive, or mean, as one would expect – they were lovely to each other, patient, supportive, self-sacrificing; in fact the worse things got, the better they were.  They still treated each other as friends even when it wasn’t in their self-interest, was even contrary to their self-interest.  I didn’t know people could be like that.  But there they were, in plain writing, being thoroughly, bafflingly, decent.  Not just the Polar Party – everyone had to face their own brutal realities at some point, and they all did so with a grace I never thought possible.

It presented a very important question:

When everything goes belly-up, and you’re facing the worst, what sort of person will you be?

Or perhaps more acutely: What sort of person would you rather be with?

It was so contrary to the world I lived in, to the reality I knew – it was a peek into an alternate dimension, populated entirely with lovely, lovely people, who really, genuinely believed that “it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game,” and behaved accordingly.  It couldn’t be real.  There had to be a deeper, unpleasant truth: that was how the world worked, after all.  I kept digging, expecting to hit bottom at some point, but I only found more gold, all the way down.  How could I not spend my life on this?

Mythology exists to pass on a culture’s values, moral code, and survival information – how to face challenges and prevail.  Scott’s story entered the British mythology, and had staying power, because it exemplified those things so profoundly for the culture that created and received it.  But the culture changed, and there were new values; Scott’s legacy was first inverted and then cast aside.  The new culture needed a new epic hero.  You’d think it would be Amundsen, the epitome of ruthless success, but “Make Plan – Execute Plan – Go Home” has no mythic value, so he didn’t stick.  The hero needed challenges, he needed setbacks, and he needed to win, on our terms.

Shackleton!  Shackleton was a winner!  Shackleton told us what we knew to be true and wanted to hear at epic volume: that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard, you will succeed!  (Especially if you can control the narrative.)  Scott, on the other hand, tells us that if you want something badly enough, and try really hard . . . you may nevertheless die horribly in the snow.  Nobody wants to hear that!  What a downer!  I think it’s no coincidence that Shackleton exploded into popular culture in the late 90s and has dominated it ever since: he is the mythic hero of the zeitgeist. I am always being asked if I’ll be doing Shackleton next.  He has six graphic novels already!  That is plenty!  But people still want to tell and be told his story, because it’s a heroic myth that validates our worldview.

That’s why I am so determined to tell the Scott story, because Scott is who we don’t realise we need right now – and Wilson, and Bowers, and Cherry, and Atch, and all the rest.  The Terra Nova Expedition is the Millennials’ polar expedition.  We’ve worked really hard, we’ve done everything we were supposed to, we made what appeared to be the right decisions at the time, and we’re still losing.  Nothing in the mythology we’ve been fed has prepared us for this.  No amount of positive attitude is going to change it.  We have all the aphorisms in the world, but what we need is an example of how to behave when the chips are down, when the Boss is not sailing into the tempest to rescue us, when the Yelcho is not on the horizon.  When circumstances are beyond your power to change, how do you make the best of your bad situation?  What does that look like? Even if you can’t fix anything, how do you make it better for the people around you – or at the very least, not worse?  Scott tells us: you can be patient, supportive, and humble; see who needs help and offer it; be realistic but don’t give in to despair; and if you’re up against a wall with no hope of rescue, go out in a blaze of kindness.  We learn by imitation: it’s easy to say these things, but to see them in action, in much harder circumstances than we will ever face, is a far greater help.  And to see them exemplified by real, flawed, complicated people like us is better still; they are not fairy-tale ideals, they are achievable. Real people achieved them.

My upbringing in the 80s milieu of selfishness, which set me up to receive the Scott story so gratefully, is hardly unique.  There are millions of us who are hungry for a counter-narrative.  My generation is desperate for demonstrations of caring, whether it’s activism or social justice or government policies that don’t abandon the vulnerable.  We’ve seen selfishness poison the world, and we want an alternative.  The time for competition is past; we must cooperate or perish, but we don’t know how to do it because our mythology is founded on competition.  The Scott story, if told properly, explodes the Just World Fallacy, and liberates us from the lie that has ruled our lives: that you make your own luck.  What happens, happens: what matters is how you respond to it.  My obsession with accuracy is in part to honour the men, and in part because Cherry was the ultimate stickler and he’d give me a hard time if I didn’t, but also because, if I’m telling the story to a new generation, I’m damn well going to make sure we get that much RIGHT.  It’s been really interesting to see, online, how my generation and the next have glommed onto polar exploration narratives, not as thrilling feats of derring-do, but as emotional explorations of found family and cooperative resilience.  We love them because they love each other, and loving each other helps get them through, and we want – we need – to see how that’s done.  It’s time to give them the Terra Nova story, and to tell it fully, fairly, and honestly, in all its complexity, because that is how their example is most useful to us.  Not as gods, and not as fools, but as real human beings who were excellent to each other in the face of disaster.  I only hope that I, a latecomer to their ways, can do them justice.

[ficsbyuzi]

All the ways lead to you - part 1

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Inara Maegyr (Original female character) in a Modern HOTD AU

Warnings : FICTIONAL PLOTLINE. Established relationship. Me swooning over Aemond Targaryen and writing this🤭 Inara being a sweet and awesome girl.

Note: This post and that a mutual of mine (@/elegantsplendour) remarked that this fic series has 'Succession' vibes. I wasn't aware of the show when I wrote this last year, and I still haven't watched it. Any resemblance to its plot is purely coincidental. Everything that is going to be re-posted here, comes from my delulu mind.

Inara's thoughts and a little background about her are in italics.

Word count - 1.2k

"You know me, mom, I can't just start working in some random hospital as a junior doctor," Inara spoke to her mother on phone, cradling it between her ear and shoulder as she watered her kitchen plants on a Saturday afternoon, “I am trying to find a job where I can practice both medicine and my art.”

"Where on earth will you find such a job, Inara?" Her mom questioned disapprovingly. "You will soon be a licensed doctor and able to practice medicine. You should start with a clinician job and save up for your MD tuition."

"Let me at least try, Mum. Maybe I can join some makeup manufacturing labs or intern with those big-shot skincare providers."

Inara heard her mom sigh and tut in response to her plans, a reaction she was quite used to by now. Yet, the conviction in her voice didn't falter as she continued, "I will definitely enroll in an MD program. Don't worry.”

As long as Inara could remember, she had always loved makeup. Even as a child, she would rummage through her mom's makeup kits and spend hours in front of the mirror, painting her own face and sometimes her mother's.

Her parents always wished to see her in the white coat of a doctor - a dream she shared with them. Cracking the medical entrance exams straight out of high school was a cakewalk, her sharp intellect paving the way for her.

Despite plenty of medical schools in Essos, the allure of studying abroad was too strong and liberating. The prestige of the renowned Citadel Medical School in Westeros had captured her attention long ago, and securing a seat there felt like destiny fulfilled.

While medical school required her to focus entirely on classes and books, her creative side yearned for exploration. Her love for makeup never faded, and after dedicating half her life to studying, she decided to follow her heart. A heart that always danced between two worlds, two passions, yearning to embrace both simultaneously.

As soon as she adjusted to her new life on a foreign land, she enrolled into a weekend certification course near her medical school. And, thus began her journey towards becoming a rare combination of a licensed medical practitioner and a trained makeup artist.

Days blurred into nights as she balanced the demands of medical studies with the pursuit of her passion.

Six years flew by in a whirlwind of learning and she was now nearing the end of her curriculum. After the sixth and last month of her hospital training and formal graduation, she would be a licensed medical practitioner. Thanks to her dedication to both medicine and makeup, she now stood as a certified makeup artist, with an expertise in skin care and prosthetics.

After freelancing a bridal makeup assignment a couple of months ago, she decided to take a detour from a predictable route towards advanced degrees or clinical positions straight after college. She planned to give herself a year of exploration into other career options before enrolling into an MD in Dermatology. And so she made up her mind on freelancing or finding a job that could extend her stay in Westeros, thereby allowing her to save up for her MD.

"Anyway, you've been so busy with everything else, you haven't even thought about finding someone. You're not getting any younger!" Her mom steered the course of the conversation to the topic she dreaded the most.

Oh boy, here it comes!

The inevitable discussion about her biological clock and society's expectations for single women was about to begin.

"Mom, please, I'm twenty four, not forty four!"

"Yes, and about time you started thinking of settling down!"

Rolling her eyes, Inara let out a sharp sigh.

"I have chores to do, mum. I gotta go," she cut the conversation short, trying her best to hide her rising impatience, “Bye! Love you!”

"Fine, But please think about what I said. Love you. ”

After ending the call, Inara continued staring at her phone's home screen. Smiling faces of her family stared back.

Her mom’s words still lingered in her mind, as she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and settled herself infront of her laptop.

She sipped her tea, smiling and recalling her mom's statement about doing tons of different things at a time. She had always loved to hustle. And, she loved how chimeric her career goals were. It wasn't an easy road, but she was determined to make it work somehow. Career satisfaction had always been her first priority; finding someone to date or marry, wasn't.

Inara's attention snapped back to her laptop screen, her eyes widening as she noticed the fourth and fifth unread emails from the top. Both arrived around the same time from the job search website she had signed up for.

The subject of the first email read:

Requirement of an assistant make-up artist on an upcoming TV Show.

The second one read:

Requirement of a physician / medical officer(s) on a TV production.

Universe works in the strangest of ways. All you have to do is ask.

She quickly opened both emails in separate tabs. They were from the human resources department of a television production house in King’s Landing. A period drama based on mythological history was in pre-production, and the HR team was hiring people on contract basis.

As someone who rarely watched television,or movies, she chuckled at the thought of working on a TV production house. Nevertheless, she decided to give it a try. With a few quick clicks, she accessed the links for both the positions and uploaded her resume. As she crafted cover letters for each position, wishful thoughts surfaced again. She let out another exhilarating chuckle, as a wave of nervous excitement crawled down her spine.

How fun and cool it would be, if I could somehow do both the jobs simultaneously.

-

A week later, as Inara was on her way home from the hospital where she interned, her phone rang. Seeing a number with the King’s Landing code, she gasped.

With her heart alight with anticipation, she answered the call. Clearing her throat, she adopted her sweetest and most professional tone before greeting the caller.

"Hi, Dr. Maegyr, this is Stannis calling from the HR department at Red Keep Productions. We've shortlisted your resume for the opening we posted about. Will you be available for an interview next week?"

"Hello, Mr. Stannis. Sure, I...I will be available!" She tried her best to mask the excitement in her voice. "Uh, I applied for two positions. May I know which one I have been shortlisted for?"

"Dr. Maegyr, your profile is one of the most interesting we've received so far. You have been called to interview for both positions. I can't say with certainty right now if you'll be hired for one or both roles as that will be decided based on your performance in the interviews." She could sense his smile through the phone.

"Thank you," she mouthed, looking up, her amber eyes sparkling with gratitude.

---x----

Part 2

[thedemoninme141]

Blade of Miquella Chapter 1: From Woe to Wonder.

My first ever Wednesday Addams X Female Reader fic! Hope you guys like it and early apologies if you don’t find it enjoyable! If you do like it, please leave a review and let me know if you'd want more!

I am Malenia Blade of Miquella,

And I've never known defeat.

Sounds of swords clashing,  the sickening noise of flesh being sliced, and the crimson spray of blood splattering in all directions.

This woman, her eyes.. rotten. Her skin, a deathly pallor, appeared even whiter than the brightest sun. And cascading down her shoulders was her hair, a deep, vibrant shade of red that resembled the color of fresh blood

"I dreamt for so long. My flesh was dull gold... and my blood, rotted."

You jumped up. That same dream again. They stopped a few months ago when you trained your brain so hard to forget HER. Focus on your own happiness, focus on how much your brother loves you, how he fought his own father to keep you safe. That used to fix it... for a few times. Until Wednesday happened.

You kept your demon inside you as you lived. Focusing more on whatever happy moments you get in your life

Trying to forget the traumas

The memories of that dreadful night are fragments, mere flashes that haunt your mind. One moment, your mother's gentle voice was lulling you to sleep with a bedtime story, the next, your mother was lying lifeless in front of you, She smelled like a beautiful flower, The scarlet rot had tainted her once-vibrant skin with crimson flowers, a haunting juxtaposition of beauty and decay.

Your father came with his shotgun.

"Demon." he cursed, pointing the weapon at you, and you closed your eyes, bracing for the worst. The deafening shot echoed in your ears, mingling with the agonizing scream that followed. When you dared to open your eyes again, you were met with a chilling sight: your brother, bloodied knife in hand, defending you against your own father's aggression.

"Miquella." You heard a woman's voice inside your mind.

"John, son, she killed your mother." your father said.

"It wasn't her..." John whispered before picking you up.

Your brother had already called the police. Your father was arrested and... framed as your mother's murderer. Your brother didn't defend him, you wanted to, but he didn't let you. He had to protect you. That is also why he has to leave you...

"It's all my fault... John.. I." Your brother didn't let you finish the sentence, He hugged you.

"No. It's not your fault. I promised Mom I would take care of you, I promised her I would find whatever the solution is to your condition. Until then... Miss Weems will take care of you."

That is how he left, he had to join the army to get to the places he needed to go, for you, to find anything... anything to get you rid of this curse. He comes to visit you from time to time, he found an ancient book, that had some answers to your questions, and he also found a dress, the dress of the woman you kept seeing in your dream. Then next year, he brought her helmet "Winged helmet made of unalloyed gold.", and next her sword, which wasn't exactly a sword as it was connected with a gauntlet, the sword was however was majestic. "A handblade," he said.

As he prepared for his next journey, his words pierced your heart with a bittersweet plea. "I don't know if I would be able to return from my next journey. I will try my hardest to come back, but I need you to be ready. If any danger finds its way to you, I need you to be brave." Those words were etched into your soul, a constant reminder of the weight you carried in his absence.

Two long years passed without any contact, and the ache of missing him gnawed at your very core. The isolation only deepened, as you feared your uncontrollable powers might hurt those around you, including potential friends. Though Larissa, ever watchful, occasionally checked in on you, the fear of inadvertently causing harm kept you from truly connecting with anyone.

The weeks after your brother's departure were a haze of self-imposed seclusion. Consumed by guilt and an overwhelming sense of responsibility for his safety, you found solace only in the walls of your room. Classes became a mere means to an end, a path that led you back to the confines of your solitude.

Over the course of those two years, amidst the solitude, a glimmer of light emerged in the form of an unexpected friend, Xavier.  He always found you odd, wearing a pair of gloves, never talking to anyone. Determined to draw you out from the shadows, Xavier persistently sought to impress you. Leading you to his secret art shack, You didn't want to follow him at first, but after a thousand requests and pleadings, you finally did. When you were there, you were mesmerized by the boy's creativity.

"Why did you bring me here? It's your secret place, isn't it? Why are you showing it to me?"

"Because I want you to trust me, just as you can keep a secret, so can I. You don't have to be alone, you know? I myself am very isolated too. Maybe we can be friends."

That is how the 14-year-old befriended you.

That's how the pleasant memories were created, you slowly opened up to Xavier as he promised you not to tell anyone what your powers were. That's how he ended up in your room. He was captivated by the way the armor that belonged to her looked. It was exhibited in your room elegantly in a glass box, your brother bought an armor stand and kept it neat and clean, as a peace offering to your inner demon, which seemed to keep her at bay. He read the book that your brother brought. It scared him, but not enough to push you away, instead, he felt remorse for the burdens you carried. But he knew you needed memories to focus on so that the demon inside you, would always remain inside. So even if befriending the "shy weird kid" resulted in being ridiculed by others, he is willing to do that.

So these two years weren't that bad, you really put your emotions in control, as well as your powers. You were finally free from the gloves, You were able to touch people without hurting them. The dreams weren't exactly gone, however, they were rare now. You still didn't have many friends except Xavier, Enid sometimes talked to you. But still, you were the outcast of the outcasts. Until Wednesday Addams arrived...

There were rumors about murders in the woods, possibly bear attacks... Then you overheard Wednesday recounting a chilling tale of a monstrous entity to Larissa and the sheriff after Rowan's mysterious disappearance. However, to your surprise, he returned unscathed just as Wednesday was narrating his death. A peculiar unease gnawed at your mind—did she lie? Your logical brain suggested so, but deep down, your heart already had known that there are things that don't have any explanation at all.  But you chose to stay away from this, you had your own problems to worry about. Problems that are much much more destructible than a monster in the woods. You had to take care of that.

That's how Wednesday first saw you, in Larissa's office.

"I'll be keeping my eye on you. No doubt you'll find something that tickles your fancy."

"The last person who tickled me lost a finger."

She walked away just as you entered, not even giving you a single glance as if you were invisible.

But she stopped when you started talking to Weems.

"Larissa, Ms Thornil said you wanted to talk to me."

"Larissa"? You call her by her name, hmm... Since Weems isn't willing to let any information slide, perhaps you could. So she decided to listen to the conversation hiding beside the door,

"I have heard you have made quite some progress in class, your grades have increased significantly. The dark circles that used to reside under your eyes are now gone, I suppose you are getting sound sleep now?"

"Yeah, I guess. The nightmares are a rare event for me now."

"Good, so how are things with Mr Thorpe?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I noticed you spend quite a lot of time with the artist. I can't help wondering if..."

"No.. no... I mean, he's brilliant, and we are friends, I mean he is my only friend. But No."

"Forgive me. I was just being curious."

"What did you want to ask me, Larissa?"

She sighed. "Right..so.. this box arrived on my doorstep yesterday. However, it was not for me, it was for you."

"For me? Who sent it? Was it John?" you asked hoping to finally get any news on your brother.

"I don’t know. There was no name. I however had to open it... because I.."

"Larissa. It's okay. I understand; you had to be sure if it was safe for me." You've always known her. She and your brother always wanted the best for you.

She smiled.

She opened it and gave the box to you.

A broken gold needle, Snapped in half.

"I don't know what this is."

"Neither do I, but it is related to you. Do you want to keep it along with your other artefacts? Or should I keep it safe somewhere else?"

You felt this feeling that you knew from your childhood as you looked at the needle.

Fear.

"Keep it to yourself for now. I should not touch it until I actually know the use of it."

"Okay Y/N"

"So "Y/n" that's what your name is," Wednesday thinks she might have the perfect use for you in her life as she makes a brilliant plan to solve the mysteries of Nevermore. PART 2- 👉 HERE

[chop-zulyzulyyy]

Throne and Sickle Ch.1

Chapter 1: Tell Me You Caught That

----------

Turtle bros x fem!parkour!reader

Summary: In which the turtles record their training one fateful night, and find the rooftops hold stories with a beginning....and an end.

Author Note: Helloo Hii! This is my very first fanfic that I’ve chosen to post publicly! I’ve written before, long ago in the time of dinosaurs 🦖 lol and over time I felt I lost my touch. I sincerely hope you enjoy this, and I’m welcome to constructive criticism! Please be as honest as you can, within reason of course. Thanks for being here on the start of my journey to becoming a better writer and fellow fan :)

Disclaimer: I don’t own ROTTMNT, sigh.

Genre(s): A bunch of stuff, really. You'll figure it out ;)

WARNINGS: Heavy topics NOT for the lighthearted; like seriously it’ll get dark in some parts. Mentions of s*xual assault, bl**d, sh*rp objects, and more. I will do my best to organize in a way that readers can identify the warning sign!

City lights, when viewed with naked eyes, seem to get a new life.. -Aishini.

Ah, New York. What a town. If its combination of musty gas, hot dogs, and mutants were on Us Weekly the headline would be ‘Mama Just Killed a Man’ with the sub-headline of the possibility of contracting an identity crisis being free.99. But alas, who knows. The fine art of bullshit was such a wide range that it left room for all kinds of adventures. For a group of four turtle brothers, this one was for the books.

The night was bustling with pedestrians, and the twinkling lights left little to the imagination of what Christmas was like even though it was February. Faint honking horns of angry Boomers could be heard, paired with the occasional loud radio stations blasting from stereo speakers. It seemed like everyone was outside of their homes tonight, and thus would be one of the riskiest patrol slash training sessions they’ve ever done.

“Aaaaand there! Hold still hold still~.” Donnie muttered. Nimble reptilian fingers only scientists and artists could applaud set up the inner workings of wiring miniature video cameras to multiple buildings, and somewhere in the back of his head was a small whispering voice claiming this was a dangerous idea as he reached up to the small device. It was, but the four of them agreed it would probably help in seeing their training mistakes via camera footage. Shiny, purple cubes were discretely attached to all buildings that were on their designated path tonight, and everything in between had been so easily hacked. He couldn’t be more positive that there was nothing short of a fruitful night out.

Sharpie eyebrows rose in smug satisfaction.

His dear brother on the other hand, wasn’t convinced. Donnie could tell by the way his hands continuously cradled his chin or crossed over each other in contemplation. Behind Leo were his other two brothers: Raph sitting down Mikey for a brief pep talk. As expected, really, for their youngest would attempt to showcase a new fighting move tonight. Each of them had one training session to present which was a pretty decent piece of advice given by Splinter. He mentioned along the lines of adapting to any kind of situation thrown at them- the need to be creative in order to defeat crime. (Or about pineapples and lime- couldn’t really understand with the disgusting mush that was ratatouille in their dad’s mouth). Anyway, at least one special move would suffice for now. They can regroup and share pointers but moving forward it would be commonplace to improve because staying at their current level of skill was just utterly unacceptable.

Raph was the first to come up with something and wasn’t afraid to show it off last month. Leo followed shortly after, but the blue-clad turtle scheduled his move during a rainstorm. Most would say it’s brave, others would say it’s stupid. But in the spirit of enlightenment; a kind elderly civilian had forgotten their laundry hanging outside in between an alley. Leo had plenty of time to rectify his maneuvering, the twat, there’s no way he did not have it coming. Donnie himself wouldn’t do his yet, but tonight was Mikey’s night.

Leo huffed, “I seriously doubt these little rubix cubes are going to help us stay on the downlow. If none of you remembered, we just had Meat Sweats get spotted by the cops-like have you seen the theories people are coming up with on the internet? Aliens. Cosmetic surgery gone wrong. Gwyneth Paltrow! I can’t afford being thrown outta town before basking in their praise. Donnie-bro-Donnie look at me does this look like a face that needs to be blacklisted?”

“Are you saying my tech isn’t enough as security, you little shit?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A vein popped on Donnie’s forehead, fist trembling, “Well if you ran like your mouth, you’d be safe from being spotted.”

Leo’s eyes blew open, “Swing hermano-!”

Raph stumbled in between the brothers, “Don’t make me send your spiffy little butts on home! Let’s do what we came here to do, fellas. Leo, you’re right to be worried but Donnie wouldn’t give the green light if there was too much risk for us tonight. We’re here to help Mikey. Capiche?”

Leo sighed and waved a hand. Mikey turned to Donnie, “How are your cameras going to help us?”

“I’m so glad you asked, little Angelo!” Donnie posed, flowers and stars flowing behind him as he stuck a tongue out at Leo, “These babies have been modified to detect thermal energy- heat emitted by humans and mutants would be caught on surveillance. If their trajectory path interferes with ours, S.H.E.L.D.O.N will capture it live and send me the real time feed. All of the other cameras I’ve hacked have been wired to follow along and save to file- there isn’t anything that we won’t see.  Not to worry.” He placated as he quickly typed into his arm brace.

“And we are…set up to begin. Ready on your mark, Angelo.” Donnie perked, finger guns out.

A pat on the shoulder from Raph, and a thumbs up from Leo did nothing for Mikey’s nerves as his three brothers readied themselves on the building ledge in camera view. The orange clad box turtle took the biggest breath possible. They’re right, he thought. Things would be a-okay if they said so. Time to blow them all away!

Within a snap of a finger, four wisps of rising dust were left to be seen.

•.*.•

Things were not okay! He nearly killed three innocent pigeons- aww what kind of monster hurts little birdies they ain’t hurt nobody! Mikey panicked, dodging cable antennas as he sprinted across rooftops. It was only ten minutes since they started, and he’s tripped over cable cords and trash bins. Raph had a short two-minute melee with a gang of pigeon miscreants. How was he supposed to pull this off with things bumbling and tumbling like this?

“Mikey! Take a deep breath buddy you can do it!” Leo’s voice echoed on a building beside him.

“O-okay!” He called back. Cold sweat made him clammy all over now. What if the sweat made him slip on something?

Raph crouched down on the building before him, causing all brothers to halt in their place on different buildings. With a worried frown, his eyes bore into Mikey’s.

“It’s alright if you need to restart, little man. Take a second to get yourself together and then we can focus on simply getting from Point A to Point B.”

“Technically we’ll be facing inevitable discrepancies of the plan if we stop for even 5 minut- shutting up now.”

Mikey stood upright so stiff his muscles began to clench painfully. He didn’t understand what was getting to him. Maybe it’s because he didn’t get enough rest, or maybe it’s because he misplaced his favorite can of spray paint. He shook his head. No, that wasn’t it. Glancing to each of his brothers he noticed urgency growing in their voices. Their looks. Their postures. It’s been frustrating nearly losing most of their battles now that the Foot was searching for the armor. But no, it wasn’t that either, as much as it made sense.

Well…there is that one thing; Mikey thought back to yesterday when April texted them an article. A group of civilian ruffians skilled in parkour were making quite a bit of unrest on the police scanners. People talk, and if their kids are around, those chatterboxes would catch the entire human population’s attention. Rumor had it this group was the modern Robin Hood- stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, and as fast as they appeared, those guys were gone in seconds. Some pretty powerful organizations have been outed in result of these ‘Robin Hoods’ meddling into their affairs and a few riots too many have taken place. Ironically, authorities have been ordered by higher-ups to stop these Robin Hoods. Mikey could see the problem when their numbers coincide with the brothers. What’s worse, him and the others could easily be mistaken as those criminals if they were caught… but training was a time-sensitive priority now.

Add to the fact that the problem did not only affect the brothers but all mutants; villains and allies alike. The cards dealt were:

On one hand, remain in the sewers and halt training- leading to repeated losses in their war at their level of strength. But. They would be safe from risk of arrest and human police authorities can do their job without spotting them. On the other hand, get ahead in their skills while the enemies remain low- but play with the high chance of being mistaken as the Robin Hoods and take the fall.

Glancing down at his hands, Mikey studied his mystic chain whip in hand and thought back to when they first got the weapons. Mystic mumbo jumbo didn’t play a critical role in their upbringing, but it felt like destiny called the four brothers to come across Mayhem nearly a year ago for important reasons: to be the greatest ninjas out there. To be heroes. To keep the city of New York safe.

Mikey sighed; he wasn’t making things better by standing here. The orange terrapin tightened his grip. He had to do his best. Mikey was in no position to downplay his skill just because he was nervous that he won’t do it right before even trying. No matter what his family and him could handle anything. He could do this.

He took a deep breath once more, eyes welled up in renewed confidence as Mikey whirled to Raph, “Nothing to it! I’m ready to get this party started!”

A large grin spread across Leo’s face, pleased. “Alright, there ya go!”

As Raph sighed in relief Donnie huffed, unable to fight the lift of his lips. He tapped away at his brace.

“Alright, restarting the session in 3…2..1!”

Mikey took the lead once more, darting rooftop to rooftop as they were marked with cameras as feather-like footsteps followed him immediately. A flick of his wrist resulted in the chain whip unfolding, length exponentially increasing in its glowing glory until the chains made a large circle around him. Lights of buildings and lamp posts all around became blurs, and ahead was the infamous Grand Central Station: his chosen starting marker. It was time to get down to business.

“Donnie! I need you to send multiple shots at me from every direction while we run, think you can help me out?”

Battle shell expanded; Donnie bowed in mock politeness “But of course! Any range in particular?”

“Stick with mid to long range, thanks!”

“As you wish.” Donnie flew a few meters ahead and hid from view while Mikey turned to Leo, who perked up in attention with a smirk as they ran.

“I’m ready for a speed-off, Leo. How about you?”

“Oooooh count me in. What do you need?”

Mikey bounced off a passing apartment balcony and gave a toothy grin, “While Donnie sends attacks at me, focus on attacking my chains. I wanna try to use tempo and defense for my ultimate move.”

His brother gave a wink and disappeared into a portal to who knew where, but he’d be waiting for Mikey. Last but definitely not least, Mikey faced Raph. The red clad brother excitedly beaming down at him from the higher buildings he was jumping over.

“Big Red, I need you to do something really important. From here to the end, do your best to catch me or get me off balance.”

“You got it!”

Raph nodded and pulled back, positioning himself a few meters behind Mikey. Said turtle nodded to himself, apprehension causing sweat to roll down his scaly green cheek as he neared Central Station. About 300 meters left. The second he got there would mean his best chance of accomplishing his special move was to use his senses and by no means slow down.

200 meters. If he failed this, it wouldn’t really be failing. His brothers were crazy smart to understand his motive and still work together to come up with a similar battle strategy. Either way this was gonna be epic.

100 meters.

50.

10.

0.

All at once purple, blue and red streams of mystic energy swarmed him much like a colony of bees. Donnie weaved around all brothers, neon laser beams whizzing out and Mikey wasn’t going to lie, those things hurt.  A few stung his arms as Mikey maneuvered his hands waving high, swooping low, faking left, reversing right, gyrating around- all motion available to bend the chains to his will. Most of the beams were caught by his chain, the neon light merging into the golden glow before disappearing. Mikey wished he could see the flabbergasted look on Donnie’s face. Then he remembered this was all being recorded.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have laughed out loud at that because Donnie’s expression morphed from shock to annoyance in a snap. The purple turtles’ jet pack with guns grew even more guns- bro whAT-!

Now that Donnie kicked it up a notch, Mikey felt the rising energy in his chains orbiting around him begin to resonate a whirring sound when a blue crescent light sliced centimeters from his face.

“Eye focused, Mikey!” Leo’s shout echoed somewhere from the side, dashing into multiple open portals for his convenience. Uh-oh. Mike forgot about those. Swinging in between cellular towers, Mikey feigned directions just out of Raph’s mystic hands as he was too big to fit into those spaces like Mikey could. But it was working. His chains were intact around him at the speed of light but now he had to move them fluidly to his advantage. Donnie furrowed his brows in the distance, dodging laundry lines mid flight and began using the power of everything in his arsenal at his baby brother- only for the chains to keep absorbing his shots. Leo, Mikey could tell, was running out of options in keeping up with the chains. Instead of Leo’s attacks disrupting the circular movement as before, every time he tried slashing them from any direction the speed of the chains was knocking him in momentum of the weapon. Leo and Donnie were growing restless, dedicating further to their task and thus quadrupling their efforts. Not to say Mikey wasn’t breaking a sweat, everything was burning, but he couldn’t tell them that this was his plan.

However.

The chains gave a loud clang when Raph swat at the weapon in order to duck under and grab him.

“G-ah!” Mikey gasped, immediately dropping down along the length of a building and allowing gravity to swoop him through an alley. This was dangerously getting too low for them where civilians can see them. On the other side of the alley, luckily, was a drop off to a construction zone, miles wide where no lamp posts reached. Mikey could use that space for his move, though Raph would also have a better means to catch him without anything in his path. Passing the last of laundry lines and apartment bricks, the group dashed into the open in pursuit of the orange terrapin now basically floating with bright orange chains as his wings when he felt a large hand grip onto his ankle. Caught in a panic Mikey sent energy to coat his leg and swung it down to slice through Raph’s red mystic energy. Hearing a hiss of pain he dashed away, but his chains wobbled off balance. Leo took this second to strike slashing waves of blue energy to dent into the chains range of motion as Donnie shot more lasers from above. Gritting his teeth Mikey gulped.

He had to get this back in control.

Mikey stopped atop a dirt hill and swirled around to face them, catching them off guard for a moment before closing his hands into fists and slowly moving them towards the center of his chest. The chain orbit spun faster, and faster, and faster until all they could see was a white halo shrinking into layers that enveloped Mikey in a cocoon-like state. But it burned. It burned so much so close to his skin that it felt like he was being roasted alive. Sweat stung his eyes: he shut them too tight he began to see stars behind his eyelids.

“Mikey, what are you doing?! If it’s hurting you then stop!” He could hear Raph and the others shout at him.

Just a bit more.

“Mikey!”

Bringing his fisted hands together, Mikey felt the trembling of the chains coiled so impossibly tight that the energy soaked in them was beginning to overwhelm them. Like a tire being pumped with too much air.

Like the stars colliding to create-

“SUPERNOVA!”

Leaping up sky high with his limbs spread wide, Mikey grinned in the millisecond it took for the chain to explode into tiny little beams of light, flickering between blue, orange, and purple variations of energy. Metal once welded together became individual sources of his mystic weapon shooting out all around. To them, Mikey resembled a firework. Bright, striking in his display of light. They watched in awe as Mikey let out a breathless exhilarated laugh, an “it worked!” reaching their ears. Raph, Leo, and Donnie noticed the disbanded chain remained still in the air around him until Mikey slowly shifted a hand, a dozen pieces of metal shifting in tandem and each straightening out into miniature needle points.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Leo cheered, followed by Donnie's whistles. The three turtles joyously cheered, celebrating this display of talent and execution Mikey put in so much effort on his own to showcase.

“O-okay, somebody please catch me!” Mikey sputtered, causing Leo to dart over and up as Mikey fell from the sky in exhaustion. Landing in Leo’s arms, the group of brothers circled around him, gasps of breath being the only thing he was capable of mustering. Donnie typed a million codes per second as Leo and Raph both spoke over each other- but Mikey barely registered most of it. He shakily lifted a thumbs-up. His mystic chain, now devoid of mystic power, swiftly returned to its original form, jingling to a drop on the dirt hill with a thump.

“I-I need a lot more kinks to work out *gasp* but this is good for us, r-right? It’s good?”

Raph gently shook Mikey’s shoulder, “It’s more than good. You did amazing tonight, big man. We can do a lot with this! But right now, we’re gonna get you to tip-top shape to be able to handle this strain on your energy. That’s first. Did you get all that, Donnie?”

Typing met his ears, “Yeperoos. Cameras remain functional, no damages, no alerts” Donnie mused, lifting his eyes from his screen with a smirk, “I say this was an exceptional showcase. Brava, Angelo. A well-thought-out plan of action.”

“Those baddies won’t know what hit ‘em.” Leo praised, then he grimaced, “But seriously, those chains sting like a mother-man my arms are gonna be sore for weeks.”

Mikey’s cheeks were beginning to hurt from his constant smiling and rested his head on Leo’s plastron.

“That’s great, guys. I’m just gonna…*yawn*I-Ima just… take a break...” He mumbled off, exhaustion quietly sending him off to dreamland.

“Poor champ’s all tuckered out.” Leo snickered.

Raph opened his arms to Leo, “Give him here, you open us a portal home.”

Gently handing Mikey over to Raph’s arms, Leo whipped out his odachi when Donnie’s wrist beeped. Donnie scowled, the light of his screen illuminating the tense frown lines on his face and causing Leo and Raph share a serious look. The camera cubes Donnie constructed were labeled along the path by numbers beginning with 0-1 and spaced out gradually by quarter mile, then to half-mile, and quickly to full mile on the account of the increasing speed they rallied throughout the path. The last camera cube designated to follow them was 5-0; about sixty meters from their position on the hill.

Camera 4-9 pinged.

“Get down.” Donnie muttered. In sync the three brothers crouch down and slowly, ever so quiet, shifted to the other side of the hill for cover. Donnie cupped a hand over his brace, dimming most of the light as Leo discreetly peered over the field in the direction of the apartment building they passed right before reaching the construction zone. Leo’s gaze hardened; with their mutated bodies, enhanced senses were part of the package. Although, it was easier to find the camera with no light sources obstructing his view. Immediately Leo spotted the smallest circle of red light from a camera lens on the roof, where a figure was still but… he couldn’t tell what they were doing. This wasn’t good. He crouched down beside Raph and leaned over him to meet Donnie’s eyes.

“We got a bogey on the roof.” The blue terrapin whispered. Donnie furrowed his brows in concentration, flickering between Leo’s eyes and the camera feed on his brace. A frame popped up, switching from thermal imaging to night vision. Raph, Leo, and Donnie found the figure to be female; petit in stature, and maybe around their age give or take a few years. Her figure was donned in simple athletic gear. Form what they could tell no weapons could be seen, no knives. No guns. She was angled to where they couldn’t see her face clearly, and from the way one leg was on the roof and the other on the ledge it appeared as though she had no qualms being on such a high altitude.

And how many times have they heard about humans being ‘comfortable’ around on rooftops? Thousands. On police scanners.

“…She’s gotta be one of them.” Raph whispered. Questions whirred up a mile a minute within each of them. What did she want? How long has she been watching them? Was this an ambush? The turtle brothers watched with bated breath when she slowly, not a sound made, turned her head over her shoulder straight at the camera cube.

Her face was concealed, a cloth type of material covering the lower half of the face and the breeze of the night shifted her hair over her eyes. But they felt her eyes stare into the camera. Into them. If they hadn’t gotten enough surprises, the next moment stunned them all into stillness.

A card was shown.

S.O.S

...

——————————————————

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

Aaaaand that's a wrap! Please let me know what you think! Stay tuned for Chapter 2! Thanks for reading :)

Fun fact: An appendage on the alligator snapping turtle's tongue resembles a worm, helping this ambush predator lure prey 👀

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

[clever-and-unique-name]

Hey, this isn’t an ask, I just wanted to thank you.

I first came across the word “dissociation” years ago, connected with it a lot and promptly ignored it- only recently (the past few months or maybe it’s been an year- my sense of time isn’t great) did I start delving into it.

Initially I was reading ab depersonalisation and derealisation and really connecting to it and getting super scared but I eventually slowly got myself to accept it and read about it.

But then I watched moon knight/ and in trying to learn more about DID just as a generally mental health-aware person- I started relating to alOt of things in a very painful way.

It was a weird up and down months long journey of being scared/ not wanting to consider it at all/ not even wanting to bring it up to my therapist/ thinking I’m making it up/wondering what the like between “normal” and “dissociative” was etc.

But I’m finally in a place where I think either it’s C-Ptsd/ OSDD (even now I don’t want to fully accept it’s the second one). But a big Big Point of acceptance for me has been blogs and memes and infographics from systems.

Of all the books and myths and confusion around dissociative disorders/ it’s always the sincere experiences that I keep relating to the most/ and the explanations from real systems which resonate with me the most.

And your comics were easily the Biggest turning point for me. Because it was explained in a way that entirely totally intuitively made sense to me.Down to them being different colours and circles and mixing. Your descriptions of introjects and passive influence and blending are what really made it make sense to me and genuinely validated me and made me able to see my personal experiences as a dissociative disorder Without feeling wrong and scared and hate myself.

Instead of new terms and talk of trauma that overwhelmed and alienated me, when I was first dipping my toe in, your comics showed and explained my own daily experience and how I’d been seeing the inside of my head for so long. When I was little I had 6 “imaginary characters” I would play as/ my handwriting has always changed/ I’ve had 6 google accounts for years now for “efficiency”/ diff YT accounts that subscribe to diff channels coz “don’t wanna contaminate the different vibes” and these are just some of the little things that were always a little off or weird but in learning that all those little weird things tied up with my big weird things? And that none of them were weird at all but rather something that could be explained and Shared with a community of people who Also Experienced it and could connect and guide each other?

That feeling of connection, understanding, and clarity- the embracing and empathy and forgiveness I’ve been able to have for myself -is something I am so so ever grateful to you for.

So thank you so much. You made me feel how magical and human it is to share, connect and belong with others. And be seen.

(Side Note- I still use singular pronouns as 1- I still have some internalised stigma to work through and 2- with my OSDD it’s more like I in different fonts rather than “we”)

(but I will say I absolutely identify with your descriptions of more distinct parts and they were what allowed me to go “haha just as like.. a fun experiment what if I tried to imagine what it would look like if I had diff-“ when I tell you my head imMediately sorted itself into different trains of thought/roles/personas/ even sense of physical appearance…they settled into and took that “experiment” so so easily and it was so comfortable that I had to look further into it)

(And as I’ve kept going and been genuinely curious and compassionate I’ve started noticing “memory fuzziness” / introjects of my parents/ realised I have a “little” who I have been severely neglecting/ been able to make my therapy about 70% more effective and finally finally feel seen and understood in these communities)

(I’ve acc been able to be aware of diff parts and encourage them to use words- where before they’d be impulses or emotions or visualisations so I could assume it was just “thinking” - now I just encourage a little bit by thinking “hmm is this a part? What are you trying to tell me? Please use words” and it has absolutely changed my life and made so many things clearer and so so much guilt and self hate has been cleared up)

As of now my therapist and I are unsure if it’s more an IFS kind of thing or C-PTSD or OSDD but whatever it is I want to thank you so So So much for putting this out into the world - reminding me of a story about one boy who saw hundreds of fish beached and started throwing them back in one by one and someone asked “why would you do that? You can’t save all of them it won’t make a difference” and he responds “he made a difference to that one”

I don’t know how much interaction you get on your platform but I just want you to know you really made a difference to this one.

And I am very grateful.

(Sorry this was long)

Sorry this has sat unanswered for a bit, I ah...struggle to put words to how much it means to me, not only that my little infographics helped you in such a way, but that you took the time to write so thoughtfully to me. (I did read every word of it, even though I don't have the spoons to reply to individual points.)

For a while I've actually been debating taking down my DID/OSDD Casually Explained posts, because they're by far my most popular posts and tend to draw in people who expect me to be the same sort of "educator" I was 4 years ago when I made them. And I'm simply not. I work full-time now, and the relatively little time I have at home is spent trying to wrangle my own mental health.

I suppose I got wrapped up in thoughts of disappointing people, no longer providing the informative content that most people followed me for, nor the personal content they could find relatable...

All that to say, I forgot how impactful content like that can be for people. I've certainly come across mental health comics or art that clicked things into place for my own experiences, I just didn't think my own creations could have that kind of effect on others (thanks imposter syndrome.)

Truly, thank you for telling me your story. I am so honored and humbled to have a place in your journey. Your words have convinced me to keep my infographics up indefinitely--I suppose we're taking turns tossing each other back into the sea.

I'm wishing you all the best (and try not to worry too much about diagnostic labels if you can help it, it sounds like you're doing The Parts Work just fine regardless!)

[quietduna]

Escaflowne ‘Letters to another world’: Analysis of chapter 5

Let’s continue with the analysis after Chapter 4! Remember that you can read the whole story (currently unfinished) here.

Page 1

The notion of Gaean intellectuals crafting theories about the book, which is described as “A novel for teenagers,” as Hitomi mentioned, never fails to bring a smile to my face. It’s intriguing how, without knowledge of the Mystic Moon languages, they rely solely on the illustrations and Hitomi’s photograph on the back cover. Consequently, it’s not unreasonable for them to consider it a book of prophecies in a world teeming with ancient magic.

I toyed with the idea of Van reading the book while wearing the pendant, but ultimately decided to keep him blissfully unaware of its contents. The pendant appears to hold no significance for him, as it has only reacted in Hitomi’s presence. It could be that the pendant solely responds to her, or perhaps Van neglected his “inner eye” training, causing him to lose his connection with it.

Van and Merle didn’t mean to offend Hitomi with their surprise; they were simply caught off guard. After months of speculating about the enigmatic book, they discover that it was written by none other than Hitomi Kanzaki, the seeress of the Mystic Moon—an insecure girl they once knew. They remember her as someone who didn’t display much interest in books, and that perception lingers. Even Van, who has journeyed to Earth twice, never witnessed Hitomi engaging with books beyond what was necessary. Thus, their astonishment is understandable. It’s quite amusing, really.

In the final panel, Hitomi’s bitter emotions seep through her façade. She has endured years of heartache over Van, only to find herself abruptly whisked away to Gaea, where she discovers him safe and sound.

Page 2

In past pages, Van told that the book appeared “aprox 2 years ago” and penetrated quickly amongst the population. To be honest, Gaea is a big world, so 2 years for me is a small time to actually had such a big influence in a mostly medieval world with no communications technology. In a world like this, letters, rumours and speculations are the main ways of spreading the news. When Van says “it has been reproduced and distributed through Gaea”, maybe it’s not like that, and it’s been having an impact only in Fanelia…What I’m trying to say is, the book has an impact, but I’m not dwelling on the reality of it. We only need to know that it’s been well-known in Fanelia and Asturia.

“People put a face to the Seeress from the Mystic Moon”: My headcanon is that, after the Gaean War and the vision of the White Dragon in the sky as the end of the War, rumours about the strange girl that was always around King Van Fanel and her visions spread like fire amongst the population, that needed new legends and war heroes. Hitomi never left Gaea, indeed, as Van said in previous pages. She was always there, as some sort of legendary seeress of luck. How was Van ever going to move on her when she had become such an icon for his people? How was any other women compete over her? The book, or better said, its illustrations, helped the population to complete their idealization of the Seeress of the Mystic Moon.

One of the intriguing aspects that crossed my mind when pondering over Escaflowne was the fortunate circumstance that befell Hitomi. She found herself in immediate proximity to the King, granting her access to a plethora of confidential information concerning the kingdom. It is astonishing to think that regular citizens have no inkling about how Van trains, the fate of Folken Fanel, or even the intricate process of awakening Escaflowne. Equally intriguing is the fact that Hitomi forged a friendship with the future queen of Asturia, affording her the opportunity to overhear the queen’s doubts about her impending marriage and gain insight into the affairs of the Aston sisters. Contemplating all of this, one cannot help but imagine the magnitude of the secrets contained within a book that was freely distributed without any form of control. The ramifications could be profound, potentially even sparking conflicts of war in a medieval setting. As Van stated, “Luckily, no one can read it.”

Picture it: a book like the Esca novels, replete with illustrations that accompanied the text. These illustrations caused quite a commotion among certain sectors of society, as Van states. The elite of traditional Asturian society viewed Millerna with disdain upon learning of her affair with Allen Schezar, who himself was entangled with the late Queen of Freid, Marlene Aston. One can only fathom the scandalous nature of these revelations. Seems like Freid has remained unscathed by this news. Perhaps there was a notable absence of an illustration depicting Allen and his secret offspring.

Pages 4,5

I understand that Hitomi’s reaction may feel natural to me, but it’s important to acknowledge that this may be more of a personal trait rather than a reflection of her character. It seems she perceived the feedback as an attack on her work. It’s understandable that she didn’t want to apologize for the problems she indirectly caused, but at the same time, she wanted to emphasize that the situation might not be as bad as initially thought.

Unfortunately, Van didn’t seem to fully grasp Hitomi’s response. The book held significant importance to him, and he seemed to have a more complex interpretation of its contents. This difference in understanding led to a bit of a misunderstanding between the two. It’s remarkable how countless stories can be born from just a single illustration in a book. Imagination can truly run wild, and people may have created various narratives involving Van, Hitomi, and Escaflowne. One can only imagine how this affected Van, especially considering the assumption that the book’s cover hinted at a clear depiction of Van and Hitomi’s relationship. The rumors and stories may have caused Van considerable emotional distress. Additionally, it’s possible that these tales impacted his relationships with other kingdoms, as he is at an age where marriage and alliances are important considerations, although this aspect has yet to be explored. Moreover, it’s quite likely that people would have sought to find Escaflowne’s resting place and transform it into a sacred location, adding further complications to Van’s life. Thus, it’s clear that the book brought about significant challenges for Van, both personally and politically.

At the same time, and thanks to the book and the Gaean War, Van’s reputation increased significantly as the pilot of the White Dragon, the Atlantean hero, the old-blood King. The book triggered a multitude of changes, as we witness in Allen and Millerna’s stories. BUT Van’s also been “effected” by these changes, although he doesn’t appear to perceive it just yet: He made the bold decision to unveil his wings to the public!

Asturia is now ruled by Eries! Could this be another one of those “fateful” changes? Is it truly what she desired? Personally, I’ve always believed that she is the perfect ruler for Asturia. She has the necessary training and will undoubtedly excel in her duty. I have absolutely no doubts about it!

And what about Hitomi? Time truly does flow mysteriously, doesn’t it? Somehow, the timeline has been altered, and everything felt like a surreal dream… At least she no longer feels under attack and has decided to share her story with Van and Merle.

Pages 6,7

I understand that returning home after a challenging and intense period can be difficult. This is especially true for someone like Hitomi, who had to leave behind a life-changing experience at such a young age. It’s actually quite common to explore this theme in fanfictions, as it is natural for her to struggle with readjustment. This is one of my most common headcanons about this story.

When it comes to Hitomi’s feelings, I’ve had the opportunity to interact with individuals who have gone through similar experiences. Working in a large NGO, I’ve met colleagues who have spent months in countries where our help is needed. Upon returning to their homes, they often find it challenging to reintegrate into their previous lives. They describe feeling a stark contrast between their intense and meaningful experiences abroad and the sometimes mundane routines and social traditions back home.

I recall a colleague who worked in an African country and experienced a profound shift in perspective. She found it difficult to find meaning in the rituals and customs that once seemed so important to her. Her family and friends struggled to understand her desire to return to the field, leading to feelings of frustration and loneliness. It’s not uncommon for individuals in similar situations to question the value of their previous way of life.

Regarding this page, it is plausible to imagine that, deep down, Yukari and Hitomi’s mother do believe and support her. However, for Hitomi, simply knowing this might not be enough. She craves a tangible sense of their support, a feeling of belonging that seems distant now that she no longer fits into the same old system.

Van raises a valid question that even Merle’s comment cannot dismiss: “Why couldn’t he sense her distress?” Speculating, we could surmise that Hitomi devoted herself to maintaining the façade of her promised life, concealing her true emotions from Van to spare him any concern. Furthermore, it is plausible to imagine that their connection was primarily initiated by Van, as evidenced by his possession of the pendant. Therefore, if Van was preoccupied with rebuilding Fanelia, their connections may have become infrequent.

One thing we can infer about Hitomi is her remarkable ability to conceal her genuine feelings. This is illustrated in the “A girl in Gaea” movie, where she struggled with depression that went unnoticed by those around her, including Yukari, until it became “too late.” In the movie, Hitomi only found solace and a genuine smile when she discovered her reflection in Van. It is quite different from the Hitomi we know in the series, but it highlights her adeptness at masking her true emotions.

Pages 8,9

I completely understand the importance of expressing one’s emotions through a traditional diary rather than a blog. I already explored this in my previous work Second Chance, as I’ve explained before. By choosing this method, it becomes much easier for the story to unfold naturally. Also, I think it perfectly aligns with Hitomi being a 90s girl.

It’s truly remarkable how having a supportive network on Earth can make a significant difference. In the case of my doujinshi Second Chance, I explored the absence of such a network for Hitomi. Her family didn’t believe her, and her friends Yukari and Amano had left Japan, leading her to fall into a state of depression. However, in this scenario, things take a different turn. Hitomi now has the presence of her mother and Yukari, who genuinely believe in her. This stark contrast can be seen in her initial words on page 1, where she expresses a preference for solitude. Someone – be it a professional or a confidante – encouraged her to express her feelings through writing. Regardless, her support system was there for her, guiding her progress.

[trainsinanime]

Railway asks: 1, 5, 7?

Questions here

1 Favorite Railway Station

This may be controversial, but I’m picking Köln Hauptbahnhof (Cologne Main Station). I’ve spent so much time there taking pictures of trains, it has a beautiful (if awkward for trains) location, there’s always something going on there. Yes, it’s far from perfect, the famous curve is awkward, it is way too small both for the numbers of trains and passengers through it, and parts of it just feel a bit shoddy, and the amazing beautiful book store is no more, now relegated to a normal tiny station store. But still, as the start point for longer journeys for me for many years (there’s not that many places that Aachen has direct connections to), it has a special place in my heart.

5 Favorite Railway Company

HSB, the Harzer Schmalspurbahnen, the steam powered narrow gauge railway in the Harz mountains, where I grew up. To be fair, I didn’t grow up right next to the line, I probably visited it way too little all things considered. But it has beautiful steam locomotives and it’s basically home.

7 Most beautiful train route I’ve taken

Bernina Express (Chur-Tirano). Most rail lines in Switzerland are great, but the combined Albula and Bernina lines are something else. The amazing sights right up to the glaciers, the famous infrastructure (Landwasserviadukt and circle bridge of Brusio alone), the picturesque sights, the stark views above the tree line, the tiny towns it goes through in the Italian-speaking section, it’s just amazing.

Why didn’t I pick the Glacier Express, which is more famous and its route partially overlaps the Bernina Express? Honestly mostly because I travelled on it last in 2009, and I was on the Bernina Express just a few months ago, so it’s more fresh in my mind. But both are great and world class.

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Bittersweet

Book: Open Heart (book 1)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!mc Casey Valentine.

Featuring: Naveen Banerji, Teresa Martinez

Category: Angsty fluff

Rating: PG bordering Mature

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, alcohol consumption

Word count: 978

Summary: it’s Valentines intern year and it is about a month after Miami and things are still fraught between Casey and Ethan. Casey endeavours to cheer up Naveen.

Disclaimer: characters belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note 1: submission for CFWC Valentine’s Day event: prompts used: Ignoring the day/drowning of sorrows

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

14th February 2019.

Valentine’s Day. A day that be generally tried to forget. Sure he had on occasion celebrated with Harper occasionally in the past but this year he was more determined to avoid the holiday. Miami was a month ago and he knew that if he had given in it would be different but here he was only chatting to her for work and Naveen related issues. She had confronted him in the lab about his true feelings. He wanted her yes but she was forbidden. Again all the reasons go around in his head. He knows he is doing right by her to remain in this purgatory.

He makes the journey to the construction zone. He starts schooling his features now for he knows that Naveen has his suspicions. As he gets closer he hears laughter. He stops as it is Casey with him. After collecting his thoughts he proceeds.

“Good morning Dr Valentine, Naveen.” He said gruffly.

“Well happy Valentine’s Day to you too, my boy.” Said Naveen.

“Thank you for the cupcakes my dear.”

“My pleasure Naveen, I am glad I was able to provide some cheer today.” Said Casey, glaring pointedly at Ethan.

“I best go and get ready for rounds.”

Casey gives Naveen a a hug and a sad smile at Ethan.

“And what are your plans for Valentine’s Day?” Questioned Naveen.

“You know how I feel about the holiday Naveen.”

“Yes I do but surely there is someone worthy of your affections…hmmm?”

Ethan groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll be back later Naveen.” He says hastily.

“We’ll be sure to at least show Dr Valentine some appreciation today.” Naveen said with a slight chuckle.

He walked down the hall and leant against a wall to collect himself. He has been appreciative of all the extra work that Casey had been putting in, despite the train wreck that Miami turned into but he did not want anything to be taken the wrong way. He groaned and made his way back to the hospital.

He happens upon Mrs Martinez. He smiles and greets her warmly.

“My dear Ethan, I am sure you will receive many valentines today? Do you have a special someone this year?”

“No and No Teresa, you know my disdain for this day. You have a lovely day though.”

He returns to his office. There is an email from Harper reminding him about that meeting tomorrow with Declan. He had hoped there would be a way out of it but alas there was not. The treatment was having mixed levels of success. He could not lose Naveen but he was starting to wonder if doing a deal with the devil was worth it. He was uneasy about it all.

He sat there for a few minutes and his mind wandered to Casey. Perhaps Naveen is right, he should show his appreciation for the extra work that Casey has been putting in but as much as he wants to he knows he can not. It is just a neurochemical response he tells himself.

Meanwhile Casey has had a mixed day. She has gotten into the spirit of the day with her friends, she also gave Mrs Martinez some cupcakes. She was cautiously optimistic of the heist working tomorrow. She still had some charts go missing and that was bugging her. Her thoughts then turn to how fraught things have been between her and Ethan of late. She gets the reasoning besides not liking it but she can see how much he still wants her. She knew they could never be casual and a part of her wished she was not on top of the competition currently otherwise she would drop out but doing so now would raise more questions not to mention supply the rumour mill with far too many rumours and that was the last thing she wanted. She groans in frustration and heads home.

Later that evening Ethan is at home, alone. Drinking his scotch and reading a medical journal to find some more inspiration to help cure Naveen. But he can not focus, wishing that Casey was here. They had not met at the apartment since Miami, it was a ploy to keep things professional but he missed her. Both professionally and personally. He then trailed to the non professional feelings and it dawns on him, they could not be separated. His mind wanders again to Miami and that kiss, the body, that dress, the noises she made for him. As soon as his mind went here he shut the journal. Anymore research now would be fruitless. He went to the bathroom to have a shower, instead of trying to kill the erection with a cold shower he decided to pleasure himself. It was bittersweet, sure the edge had been taken off but he wanted Casey even though he could not have her.

Across town at Casey’s apartment, she could not sleep. Her mind is going through all the possible scenarios for tomorrow. Her mind strays to Ethan. She wishes she could tell him but she did not want to put his career in jeopardy if it went pear shaped. How she wished she was with him now. She knew they were not getting much headway into Naveen’s case and she knew he needed her, not just as a medical intern but as a friend. Then her thoughts go to Miami, that kiss and how she knows that they can not just be friends. She feels a a pool of heat at her core. She reaches for her drawer and grabs her vibrator. At least this will help me get some sleep she thinks to herself as she once again wishes it was Ethan making her cum, not just the thought of him.

Authors note: And we all know what happened with Mrs Martinez eventually.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd @potionsprefect @liaromancewriter @cariantha @tessa-liam @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @binny1985 @schnitzelbutterfingers

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[bythenineshards]

Is the Jenna Moreci hate train still going...? Curious about ur reasons

To be honest, I haven't really thought about her in a while. I've been trying to get away from the things that don't bring me joy. Pathetic, I know. I think the last time I really gave her any thought was a couple months ago when a coworker of mine who's a self published author and I were discussing our journeys as writers and the advice we'd gotten. The subject of Jenna came up when discussing booktube and author advice channels. Despite being drastically different genres, we both watched her videos and similarly, outgrew them.

My dislike for her boiled down to a couple things.

1. She's a hypocrite and probably doesn't realize it or at least, I hope she doesn't. She peddles advice but when you read her books, she hasn't followed any of it. One big one is the Insta-Love problem. Maybe she doesn't see it as such but it is.

2. She's a prude, and if you like something that she doesn't, you're wrong. I've made it no secret here that I love monsters. She doesn't and has said in her videos that monster romance is gross and no one should write it. I may remember this wrong, but I think she even said that if you like monster romance, you should get help. She also, and I'm not misremembering this, reduced Shape of Water down to the fish sex movie and called it gross. I won't give an entire TED talk about the movie, but it shows how little she actually knows about it or the care Del Toro put into it, and maybe she should keep her mouth shut. She has entire videos that are just tropes or dynamics she thinks should go away, and it's basically every single popular romance trope. Now, if she just said that they weren't her cup of tea, cool. But she doesn't. She gets really shamey about them. She's one of the examples of people in the fantasy romance community that fall into an unpopular opinion I've been brewing for some time.

3. She hates women who aren't her. Every woman in her books, besides the self insert FMC, is talked about like they're horrible. There's no nuance to her thoughts about them. It's clear that she views women as competition.

4. This one is just a small gripe... she calls herself a full-time writer. She isn't. She's a full-time YouTuber with two books to her name (three if you count the one she's trying to bury), one of which is just book one told from a different character's perspective.

5. The way she writes men is horrible. The way she writes men is like how men write women. She writes them the way my Christian parents talked about men when I was in high school. They lack nuance or complexity. They all talk and act like 80s movie Frat boys.

6. She comes off super arrogant. I lied about not thinking about her in a while. She was mentioned on a podcast I listened to on Friday. My bad. They mentioned that they've spoken to people who were former beta readers of hers. Those betas said she would just dismiss their thoughts and criticisms. Girl... you gotta keep learning if you're gonna get better.

7. When giving examples in her videos, she uses her own books. That just seems weird to me. Pick a book more people have read.

That's basically it... I just stopped watching her stuff. There's probably more I'm forgetting, but yeah... I wanna get back to bg3.

[dailyaudiobible]

9/23/2023 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 41:17-43:13, Ephesians 2:1-22, Psalm 67:1-7, Proverbs 23:29-35

Today is the 23rd day of September, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible, I’m Brian. It is wonderful to be here with you today as we, as we reached the conclusion of another one of our weeks together and continue our journey forward together. Our journey has been, has been leading us through the book of Isaiah and at this point we’re kind of about three quarters of the way through the book of Isaiah and so that's where our next step will be coming from today. Isaiah chapter 41 verse 17 through 43 verse 13.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. Thank You for another week, we thank You that as these weeks go by and accumulate in the months and these months accumulate to seasons and years that You are faithful, You have been so patient and loyal to us, even in all of our shortcomings, our missteps our mistakes, the ways that we haven’t honored You, the ways that we haven't brought honor to Your name through our lives. But rather heap garbage through the examples of some of our decisions. You have been patient. You've been kind, You've always hoped in what we could be in what You created us to be. And You’ve patiently walked with us. We are grateful and we express that. We are grateful to You, and we open our hearts to You and invite You to continue to transform us from within as we collaborate with You by surrender. We pray this in the name of Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hello, this is Sandy from Ontario. I haven’t called in in a while. I’ve been listening for years. I’ve shared this with many of my friends up here. I would like you to pray for Jennifer and her family. Jennifer is my friend; her daughter is 21. Three weeks ago, her daughter was helping a friend who just got out of jail. And when my friend Jennifer and the whole family was in the car, this person pulled out a gun and shot my friend, Jennifer’s daughter, who is 21, in the neck, in front of them. Blood went everywhere. And they took her to the hospital, they airlifted her and she’s still in a coma. It’s been three weeks. She has slightly opened her eyes, but they say there is not much hope for her. Jennifer and her family are slightly catholic, but they are not believers. It’s very hard for me to know what to say to her except to pray. So, would you all please pray. The girl’s name is Hope, she’s 21 and she’s still in the hospital, like I said, and she’s still not moving at all. Thank you very much.

Hi everyone, it’s Kristy in Kentucky. Brian, thank you for your commentary on the September 18th, we walk by faith and not by sight. We cannot merely just read the word of God we have to have a personal relationship with Him and trust Him. Father, we love You and we praise You Jesus. And it is so hard sometimes to walk by faith and not by sight. Because if we walk by sight, Lord, we would all be falling, desperately and failing. But Father, in this tapestry of life that You’ve given to us, where there is grief and yet joy, all mixed together in life. Lord, let us know that You are our hope and that we can trust in You in all things. Father, we rejoice with those that are rejoicing, Father. And we grieve with those that are grieving. Father, we’re walking alongside our brothers and sisters who are fighting diseases, Lord Jesus. Father, we thank You that You are our healer and that You’re our provider. We love you Father God, and we trust You. Strengthen us Jesus, strengthen us as we pray. In Your precious name. Amen. I wanted to give a shout out to Angel in Training in Lexington, Kentucky and tell you sister, we need to connect somehow. I’m also in Lexington and I would love, love to meet you. Alright everyone, I pray each of you are having a most blessed and lovely day.

Hello Daily Audio Bible Family. My name is Amanda and I’m; this is the first time I’m calling on this line. I come to you today to ask for prayer for a family in my daughter’s school. Their 17-year-old son was in a car wreck and passed away this weekend. His sister is in my daughter’s grade. My daughters’ friends with this family, both of them, the sister and the boy who passed. She’s spent time, weekends away with them hanging out. I ask that you please cover this family in prayer. I cannot imagine the heartbreak, the sadness, the anger, the frustration that this family is going through right now. I ask this community that we cover them, we cover them in prayer, and we ask the Lord to be with them as they take these, these steps in the coming days, in dealing with their tragic loss. And also, all the students in the school as they work through the emotions of losing a classmate. Thank you, I love you all and have a blessed day.

Hi family, is Beloved in Bakersfield. I’m just calling for a prayer request for a dear friend of mine, her name is Katlynn. Her sister, Courtney, just overdosed last night. They found benzos and, it was a fentanyl overdose, but they found benzos and marijuana in her system too. So, would you just come alongside with me as we pray. Heavenly Father, we praise You for Courtney’s life. We thank You for sparing her and keeping her here a little while longer. Father, we just ask that You would be drawing her near to You as she is in the hospital, that she would encounter You. That she would submit her life to You, that she would release whatever guilt, shame, sin, it’s just keeping her apart from You, Lord. Would You just meet her, may she see Your face and just humbly submit her life before You. May she see what path she’s on, it’s just gonna lead to death. And may she just accept Your grace and mercy and Your death on the cross for her and know that she is loved and cared for deeply and that her sin is paid for. May she have no more shame. May she walk in Your peace and may You just comfort her family through this time. Lord, we praise You, we thank you for just pursuing each one of us. You’re a good God and we trust You Lord.

[ezomind-the-other-one]

Weird Answers from a Writers

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

don't care, the default Google Docs one

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

yeah I was born before everyone had a personal computer also I'd use a pen

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

I procrastinate on my actual paying job to write and this is cursed for obvious reasons

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

"rather"

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

no superstitions, only faith

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

no one will like my stuff

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

i like my stuff

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

no action, all dialogue

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

only the one that live in people's heads

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Terry Pratchett has haunted me; several decades after reading I still remember the sentences, situations, and meaning.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

no my darlings get a happy end always but I will make them work for it

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

The ability to write intimacy without feeling weird, time to write and more words in my head, I'm not a native speaker and I don't know tat many words.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

difficult: intimacy, see above

easy: outside chat-style POV

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

i don't know any people well enough to lend books i am an actual ermit

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

no marks on my books but i put them down open with the spine up.

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

the fleeting memory of what page I was at

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

uh well the horny parts are probably not going to make it to the text (see points 12-13) and I'm certainly not having an epiphany and change my ways on this tumblr post

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

omg this is getting difficult

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

i've had stories in my head since I was five but the thing that finally sent me over the edge a few months ago was reading a PWP on ao3.

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

I'd ask the witch were she trained for that kind of knowledge and do that in addition to writing

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

no no no

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

lol it's a set of google docs and my brain no system only vibes

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

my old couch for actual writing but plotting is always with me, especially in public transportation.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

a few online searches but I'm a simple writer my good omens fanfics don't need that much backstory. Althoug I did search for the name of a malware contest recently.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

it will become relevant in the future

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

actually it's my characters that come into my head, dwarves @ Bilbo Baggins's style

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

not enough data for an accurate answer (yetà

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Haven't written that many OCs but the ineffable idiots from good omens are a joy to write about.

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

A mystery for the ages. Good thing I can just wait out the no-inspiration moments because i have a day job speaking of I should probably go back to that.

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

nope

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

i love u i miss u where tf are u when you're not commenting on ao3 ? can i come visit u there

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

too many to list

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

art no but my work kind of seeps into my writing (i'm science-adjacent)

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

leaving that one for the native speakers and people who actaully know shit about language

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

wait there are rules ?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

I know nothing

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

wow she really liked good omens and the word "rather" hu

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

no I'm always having a perfectly normal one when i write

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

never felt like giving up but then I only started a few months ago

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

The tiger He destroyed his cage Yes YES The tiger is out

@chdarling im bad at tumblr, reblogging confuses me but i hope this gives you a chuckle

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[gailhai1storm]

Eldredge Papers #1: Introduction

by Antonio Valquez

I, Antonio Valzquez, have devoted much of my life to the uncovering and documentation of the history of the Eldredge, as best to my abilities given the hidden and long nature of that history. When I first started this long journey I began with  The Eldredge Coming by Ethel Smith, which is the brief, yet as I would find, surprisingly accurate story of the Eldredge's second coming to our land, their conquering of it and their eventual diminishment. All those long 30 years ago when I was still a young man, I began by going to the approximate area where Ethel Smith’s book starts. I had barely left my own province up till that point and was venturing for the first time into the wide open world.

  I travelled to the north eastern coast by train arriving in Montrose, which was near where I estimated the Eldredge had first landed. Upon arriving in Montrose I set out to discover just how much of Ethel’s book was accurate and how much was mythology. I spent hours in the archives of the local university, and the libraries of Montrose, sifting through old newsletters and archaeological papers. My searches were of little avail as many of the archives had been flooded over the years or were corrupted in some form, and besides that some documents seemed to be quite well obscured from observation, weather that was done purposely by some power at be or simply hidden and lost due to time I can only speculate; but after months of research and persistence I finally stumbled across something that would allow me to finally break through and begin piecing together the Eldrege’s story.

[graylinesspam]

I've been reading legends novels with my dad for a while now (we have a book club) and he made me listen to "Yoda: A dark rendezvous" SO I couldn't hold back this brain child. I hope it reaches the .1% of the star wars fandom that cares. (An everybody live/no body dies au)

When Jai Maruk was volunteered by master Yoda himself to take on a padawan he was sure the Jedi Master was trying to teach him something. After all it was his own disparaging comments that had prompted Yoda to bet him on the youngling's performance in the competition. Ever since he kept going back to that moment, wishing he hadn't accepted the wager. But at the time it had been so ridiculous. Why in the galaxy would Yoda be betting on the padawans and who was Jai of all people to turn him down?

So two months and two disastrous brushes with death later, here he was getting ready to be deployed again. This time with a barely force sensitive padawan to look after.

Trepidation was strong in him today but most of the initial distrust of his padwan had worn off somewhere on the crowded ship he'd been stuck in with her Yoda and the other Jedi for days on end.

Fear, anxiety, and a flicker of precious longing had replaced that feeling. As the war has dragged on Jai long ago dismissed the idea that he'd ever have a padawan. But the idea, tender as it has been since he was still being trained by his own master, had never fully left him.

He couldn't dwell on any of that though. He needed to allow his relationship with his padwan to grow naturally. That had become painfully clear in their journey to this point. Expectations were something Scout blew through like a reckless driver through sky lanes.

All he could worry about with any hope of achieving actual control was his own abilities. Since being released from medical He'd had to put in a considerable amount of physical therapy to get back into combat shape. He was always a man that lived in the training rooms. That might be the only thing him and his padawan had in common other than their stubborn streak.

Scout had been right beside him the entire time he was recovering. Not hovering really, just going about her day in tandem with his own. He remembers that her first master had been killed in the early phases of the war. His first deployment. She may be dealing with some feelings of abandonment. Or maybe She just wasn't well liked by her peers.

The other younglings still in the temple didn't bother to stop and talk with Scout while she was with him. And she was usually with him.

While he focused on restrengthening the muscles in his legs and arms from where they were weakened by injuries she was beside him doing cardio or core exercises or pull ups, crunches, lunges, bicep curls. Or even doing her own therapeutic exercises, like rolling out her muscles or working her fingers.

Those lightsaber burn on her hands weren't the only abuse she put her hands through and she had a complex routine to compensate for the physical strain she put her body through to keep up with her peers.

As Master Yoda had pointed out to him on their first discussion Scout was the hardest working padawan out of the bunch. She had to be.

He hoped that would be enough. That Scout could use her years of fighting ever single person around her just to keep from being trampled and use that will to survive the war.

Frankly Jai didn't know what he'd do if she didn't. He'd lost too many people already. And, very much against his will, he'd grown fond of her.

[i-would-like-some-tea]

So… it’s been a while but I finished outlining the first chapter.

This is inspired by the @muffinlance’s Emergency Outline System (tm) and I took a lot of inspiration from her worldbuilding/ paid homage to some of my favourite side characters from her fics.

The White Lotus Gambit - Book 1: Duty

AtlA AU: 50 years into the war, two young Water Tribe women find a boy frozen in an iceberg. A runaway northern noble and the south’s last waterbending master embark on a long and dangerous journey with their new friend who might be the world’s only hope. Hot on their heels is a prince looking for his destiny and running from the reality of his broken family. The Avatar will meet friends old and new and in the shadows grows the White Lotus.

Our story begins at the South Pole, in summer, 50 years after Sozin’s Comet. The Southern Water Tribe has been suffering under trade blockades for decades and a few years ago, the Fire Nation had started targeted raids to take away their waterbenders.

A year ago, Kanna arrived and was taken in by the Wolf Orca Tribe. A young northern noblewoman fleeing from an arranged marriage, it had taken her a while to adapt to life in a tribe that treated her as a full member of society and expected her to actually get her hands dirty.

She started helping out in the healer’s hut and befriended Hama, a waterbending prodigy just one year younger than her. After the tribe’s last waterbending healer had been taken, Hama had started helping the healers in addition to her warrior duties.

Hama, Kanna and young non-bending healer-in-training Kustaa are crossing the bay their village is located at to collect herbs when a huge iceberg blocks their way. Hama uses her bending to move it out of the way and uncovers a glowing sphere with a boy and a huge animal frozen inside.

The resulting sky beam is seen by the Southern Raiders flagship, where prince Iroh is currently “inspecting the troops”. (he was sent by his father to gather some military leadership experience and also be conveniently out of the way and distracted while his mother is going through a difficult pregnancy)

The Southern Water Tribe‘s council of elders decide that the Avatar can’t stay with them. With the Fire Nation raids that have been going on for years now, it’s just not safe. Still, the Avatar will need a waterbending master, so wherever he is going, Hama will come with him.

Chief Tahno, a young man who became chief just a few months ago after the old chief had been taken in a raid, suggests that maybe this is a sign that they should start striking back and decides to start forming an alliance with the other southern villages. He also hopes to get the Northern Water Tribe’s assistance. Since Kanna is from there and had mentioned her father being a councilman, he asks her to travel north with the Avatar to propose an alliance. She is doubtful of if they would listen to her but agrees (the idea of rubbing her position as Southern ambassador and companion to the Avatar in her family’s and Pakku’s face does sound enticing! Also, hey, she’ll get to spend lots of time with her best-friend-who-she-definitely-doesn’t-have-a-crush-on Hama)

The Fire Nation crew see Appa flying above them and start their pursuit. Iroh immediately writes to his father and is officially given command of the mission to capture the Avatar. His royal tutor, Master Kuzon, who has been accompanying him along with his son, the prince’s best friend Piandao, also writes some letters. He hides the exciting news in flower themed Pai Sho stratagems and, for the first time in 50 years, dares hope that he might see his best friend again.

Iroh & co first catch up to Team Avatar on Kyoshi Island but are fended off by the Kyoshi Warriors. Aang and Kuzon see each other from a distance, but Aang doesn’t recognise his friend, just thinks he looks somewhat familiar.

Even though Aang would have loved to look for his old friend Bumi, they don’t travel via Omashu. After the whole Kyoshi-Island-elephant-koi/ Unagi/ Fire-Nation-attack-debacle, Kanna & Hama keep Aang on a much tighter leash and Kanna makes them follow more or less the same course to the Northern Water Tribe that she had taken south before. Aang never had a mother. Now he feels like he has two and they’re the worst spoilsports ever! (when they’re not busy making heart eyes at each other when they think no-one’s looking…)

They still help people they meet along the way and at some point, they run into a young refugee calling herself Madam Wu. She is travelling with her father and earns money by reading people’s fortune at the roadside but carries herself like nobility (Kanna can tell). When her father is falsely accused of theft, they help her bail him out of jail and find the real thief. In the end, she claims she knew everything was going to end up fine all along. She also insists on reading everyone’s future and claims that they’ll meet again.

They have another close run in with prince Iroh and his companions near the Serpent’s Pass. They get separated, Hama duels Iroh and Piandao by their boats and sinks most of them before escaping. Kanna, riding Appa, leads most of the crew off into the direction of an Earth Kingdom fort where they end up hopelessly outnumbered and have to retreat. Aang is caught alone by Kuzon in the woods. He finally recognises his friend and is torn between being happy to see him again and disappointed that he’s apparently been complacent with everything the Fire Nation has done. Kuzon asks Aang to remember the last game of Pai Sho they had played when they were children and what his mother had taught them: “Sometimes you need to play into your opponent’s game in order to make them play yours”. He lets Aang go, with a White Lotus Tile as a parting gift and a warning that the Fire Nation is assembling a fleet to lay siege on the Northern Water Tribe if that’s where he’s headed.

At the North Pole, things go about as smoothly as expected. It is only because of Aang’s presence that the northern chief even hears them out and contemplates the proposed alliance. He laughs off the threat of a Fire Nation siege: they managed to fend them off when they first tried 20 years ago, they will do so again.

Kanna still finds extreme satisfaction in telling her father, the most prestigious waterbending master in the North, that, no, Aang doesn’t need a waterbending teacher, he’s already being taught by the Best (tm). At this point, the unresolved sexual tension and awkward flirty vibes between Kanna and Hama are at an all time high. Kanna meeting Pakku again only makes things worse since the thought of them reconnecting triggers Hama’s jealousy and kinda turns her on at the same time. It’s all very confusing and poor Aang has never felt so much out of the loop and craving for friends his own age in his life…

The Fire Nation fleet arrives, timing their first attack for the new moon because Iroh did his research. After the initial assault, the prince gives the Water Tribe an ultimatum: if they surrender the Avatar and swear their allegiance to the Fire Lord until the next day, they will be peacefully occupied and stand under the Fire Nation’s protection. Otherwise, the attack will resume until the city has been razed to the ground.

Feeling guilty and kinda useless, Aang meditates into the spirit world in hope of finding some guidance. He discovers that his astral body can walk around the human world unseen and makes his way to the Fire Nation fleet’s command ship, hoping to find out if they are sincere in their conditional peace offer. He runs into Prince Iroh who, to both their surprise, seems to be the only person who can see him. After some initial confusion and once they both realise that while Aang is visible to Iroh, he can’t touch him, Aang uses this as an opportunity to bargain in the Water Tribe’s favour. He’ll surrender peacefully and will try to convince the Northern Water Tribe to surrender as well, but only if the safety of all waterbenders, North and South, is guaranteed. They have a deal.

Aang keeps thinking about what Kuzon told him - if he surrendered now, he could buy the Water Tribe enough time to regroup and maybe strike back when the moon is full again. Iroh promised that he would be treated with honor as a prisoner and Kuzon also seemed to be planning something. In the Pai Sho game he had been alluding to, they had both played against his mother, a grandmaster, who had made them think they were winning until the last moment, when she broke through their offence with a single white lotus tile, freed the tiles of hers that they had believed to be securely trapped and turned the whole game on its head.

The Northern council isn’t keen on his plan but support comes from an unexpected side. Master Yuruk, Kanna’s grumpy dad, actually speaks in favor of the proposed gambit and manages to convince the chief. Kanna and Hama are outraged.

Aang surrenders. He is taken aboard Iroh’s ship as a prisoner and they immediately leave towards the Fire Nation with a significant part of the fleet.

So… I‘ve spent a lot of time procrastinating lately and in that time started writing several pages of notes for an AU where Aang is found 50 years early. It started out as a fun idea of “what if Kanna and Hama found the Avatar and they ran into all the White Lotus people on their travels” and quickly evolved into plans for a whole 3 book rewrite starring an alternate gaang made up of Aang, Kanna, Hama, Piandao, (not yet aunt) Wu, an oc airbender and, eventually, Iroh

I don’t know if I’ll ever actually write the whole thing but right now, I’m aiming to get it into Emergency Outline (tm) form as soon as possible and maybe write a series of drabbles/one-shots whenever I have the time…

[wardenparker]

Broken Road - part 4

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Javier’s high school sweetheart turns up at the Embassy, it shakes him right to his foundation. How will he cope when he learns that everything he thought he knew about his first heartbreak was a lie?

Rating: Explicit. 18+ my lovelies! Word Count: 14.7k Warnings: Javi with feelings deserves his own warning. Cursing, tiny Javi getting embarrassed, cooking/food, guilt, arguments/fighting, domestic turmoil, Lorraine just generally being terrible, pregnancy/family planning talk. Oral sex (m receiving), road head, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, technically outdoor sex.  Summary: Javi deals with the fallout from his involvement with Los Pepes, and the two of you decide it’s time to head back to Laredo. But there is a very twisty rollercoaster that lies beyond that decision. Notes: So much drama for these babies! Thank you to everyone following along on this journey. There’s a lot going on here, but it will flow nicely into next week’s conclusion. Just one more part 💖

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

February 2, 1974:

Saturday mornings have been the same for months now, and propping your bicycle up against the big tree in front of the Peña’s house is sort of like having your own designated parking space waiting for you. Mr. Peña’s truck is conspicuously absent this morning, but that doesn’t stop you from knocking loudly on the screen door and grinning at the way it rattles under your eager fist. You can hear the radio in the kitchen, always tuned to the local soul and funk station and just a touch staticky because of it, but Javier’s mother sings lightly along with every song anyway. “He said he’s going back to find…what’s left of his world…The world he left behind not so long ago…” She croons along with Gladys Knight, and you crack open the door rather than interrupt her favourite song. “He’s leaving…on that midnight train to Georgia…” You can’t help smiling, leaning just inside the doorway of the house that pours directly into the kitchen if you so much as turn to your right. She’s dancing and singing along, and there’s even a big pot in the stove already. Ingredients cover every surface - very different than your chain-smoking mother sitting at the kitchen table trying not to drop ashes on Vanessa’s new jeans while she hems them and watches the morning news.

“Buenos dias, mija.” Even as she is stirring, Javi’s mother turns to the door and gives you the widest smile. She’s liked you from the first and that has just turned into absolute adoration the more she has gotten to know you. “Javi is already gone with his papa to town.”

“Morning, Mrs. Peña.” You shuffle your feet slightly in the doorway and drop your book bag in the corner under the coat rack. “I-is It okay if I stay?” Bring here is always infinitely more comfortable than being at your own house, but you’ve never been alone with just his mother for longer than a few minutes before.

“Of course you can.” She turns back to the pot. “Do you want to help?” She asks you. “I’m making one of Javier’s favorite ‘garbage’ dinners he loves so much.” She rolls her eyes but there is a smile on her face when she thinks about how her son had begged her to make the unhealthy food.

“Frito Pie?” One of your eyebrows immediately raises curiously at the bag of corn chips on the counter. Just because you and Javier have only been going steady for a few months doesn’t mean you haven’t picked up on things. Plus, you had never heard of the concoction before meeting him anyway. “I don’t know much about cooking, but I can follow instructions.”

She chuckles and moves to make room for you at the stove. “Cooking isn’t done with recipes.” She tells you. “Most of the time I follow a recipe one time and then change it to fit Chucho or Javi’s taste.”

“So…more chilis.” It had been a serious wake up call, coming from the bland, generically creamy foods that your mom and all the church ladies in your town in Colorado had cooked. In Texas the two most important ingredients are meat and spice. You move up to the counter beside the stove and peer in, laughing at the facial you get from the big pot of sautéed onions and things you can’t quite identify by smell alone. It makes you grin and sigh happily. “I wish my mother could cook like you.”

“I will teach you and then you will teach her.” She tries so very hard to keep her opinion of your parents to herself, although she has mentioned to Chucho more than once that she doesn’t understand how a girl as sweet as you are can come from such a strict and domineering household. “And if you help, you get to eat some of your hard work, too.” She tells you with a wink.

“Now that is a motivator.” It’s useless and would simply be rude to tell her that your family couldn’t survive her cooking for the most part - god forbid they eat something with flavor. But you hang your - Javi’s - letterman sweater on the back of a chair and stick your hands under the sink to wash up. “What can I help with?”

“If you want to make the pico.” She nods towards a cutting board. “Chop the tomatoes and onion finely.” She firmly believed that while the Frito pie was a bastardized version of unholy hell, Javier loved it and the only way it was palette able was with fresh crema and pico de gallo. She would not budge on that point.

It doesn’t take long to get a cutting board and knife in front of you, though your skills with a knife are definitely limited. You’ve been hunting with your father since you were eleven, but cutting vegetables requires a slightly lighter hand. The radio hums pleasantly in the background, playing the newest song from Stevie Wonder, and Javier’s mother knows every word. She dances at the stove, stirring and moving her feet, and for about the hundredth time you find yourself admiring the way she always seems to have a spring in her step. That’s the kind of sway and smile you want to have when you’re her age, too.

******

September 10, 1993:

If the kitchen of your apartment smelled any better, you would swear it was Mama Peña smiling down on all those cooking lessons finally paying off. The music on the radio is salsa, but you know most of the words and can fake a few steps as you dance with your wooden spoon in between stirring the pot of chili on the stove. Javi’s been having a tough time lately and you decided this morning that the best thing to cheer him up is a stomach full of nostalgia. Frito Pie with his ma’s pico de gallo chilling in the fridge and a pitcher of sweet tea beside it. You even managed to find real Fritos at the bodega on your lunch break earlier. If this doesn’t cheer him up, then the lack of lingerie under your clothes definitely will…

There’s a moment where he doesn’t want to put the key in the door. Shame and anger weigh heavily on him and he knows you will spot it the second you see him. You’ve always read him like a book. How is he supposed to tell you that he’s being sent home in disgrace? That he’s being punished for trying to catch Escobar, albeit the wrong way? After Carrillo was killed, he just wanted to take the fucker down, and working with Los Pepes seemed reasonable. Now, because of it, he was off the case, maybe out of the DEA. He sighs as he slides the key into the lock, hearing the rasp of the tumblers as he twists it, and the door opens to the apartment he shares with you.

“Hey, babe!” You can hear the door creak open from the kitchen and reach to turn down the radio while you call out to him. “Whiskey or beer? Dinner’s almost ready!”

“Hey.” You sound so damn happy. He drags his jacket off and sighs. “Whiskey. Set the bottle out.” He calls back and takes off his boots. You insist that he doesn’t need to be fully dressed in the apartment all the time unless he was working and his boots coming off at the door had been the first concession towards that.

“Bad day?” It’s in his voice before he even rounds the corner, and you quickly pour a few fingers into a glass for him. On the rare occasion that he’s home first, he’ll do the same with your glass of rum. It’s the little things, you’ve found, as you settled into married life together. The moment you see his face, though, your heart drops into your toes. “What happened? Are you okay? Is Steve okay?”

“Steve’s fine.” He assures you, knowing you will worry about it until he tells you. You and Connie becoming thicker than thieves and he’s ruined that for you. “I—” He shakes his head. “I fucked up, Gacelita.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” His glass is pressed into his hand at the same time you press a reassuring kiss to his lips. If he’s straight-out telling you it’s a fuck up, though? That’s pretty bad. Normally Javi goes straight to making a plan to fix whatever is broken. “Do you…want to talk about it? Or do you want to drink about it?” You know he’ll talk to you eventually, but sometimes he needs to brood first.

He shakes his head, knowing that you deserve to know. This affects you too. “I—I’m being sent back to the States. Immediately.”

“…Fuck.” The way your eyes blow wide is definitely not the supportive, optimistic tone you were hoping would come out of your mouth, but it is what it is. “What happened?”

Javi sighs and drops down into a chair, his hand curling around the drink you poured for him. “I—I fed information to Don Berna and Los Pepes when my hands were tied.” Guilt eats away at him, and he can’t meet your eyes. “Judy Moncado talked.”

“Javi…” Honestly your gut instinct is to be pissed. To ask him what the fuck he was thinking. But you know what he was thinking. He was trying to end this godforsaken, bullshit drug war that only ever seems to get worse. By whatever means necessary. You drop down at the table beside him, slipping your hand into one of his and squeezing. He doesn’t need his wife to give him a lecture - he looks like he’s been given one by anyone who knows and himself all before getting home. You’re supposed to be his partner. His support. “Are you being sent home, or are you being discharged?” You ask softly, hating the way he winces slightly at your touch, like he doesn’t deserve it. After all the work he’s done - every ounce of literal blood, sweat, and tears - for the DEA to just fire him would be unimaginably cruel. But organizations like that can’t afford to have a heart.

“I—I don’t know.” He admits quietly. “They are going to call me to Washington after Escobar is caught. They— they want to see if my actions impeded the case.”

“Okay.” After everything he’s put into this… You swallow a heavy sigh and widen your fingers a little, lacing them through his to hold his hand tight. “So, we don’t have to go to Washington yet.” But you will eventually - and fuck that’s going to be hell on him. “Honey, I’m…shit. I’m so sorry. You’ve been working harder on this than even I knew.”

“I—” He takes a deep breath. “Crosby— uh, he said you can stay.” He breathes out, his heart clenching in his chest at the idea. However, you loved your work and you shouldn’t suffer because he fucked up. “I understand if you want to.”

“Fuck no.” Your brow furrows, looking at him like he’s grown three extra heads in half a second’s time. “Not a chance in hell, baby. Crosby can find a new secretary. We’re going home together.” The idea is completely ludicrous. There’s no reason for you to be anywhere that he isn’t, especially if it’s a completely different country. “They keep both Peñas or they get none at all.”

His shoulders relax slightly. The worry that you will want to stay fading. “I’m sorry, Gacelita.” He murmurs. “I was— I fucked up. It, I got in over my head after Horacio died.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me.” Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple before pressing your forehead to the very same spot. “You did what you thought would help, come hell or high water.” You aren’t the one he’s wronged here - not really. You always knew you would give up your post at the embassy eventually in good order, happily turning in high heels for cowboy boots. The person he’s hurt most here is himself, and he doesn’t need you to tell him that. “I’m not mad, and I don’t love you any less, so please get that guilty bullshit out of your head.”

“I’m pissed.” Javi admits, his arms coming around you. “I’ve worked this fucking thing for nearly ten year and now— right when we are so close, they are sending me home. I’ve fucking done so many horrible things, all to catch this bastard.”

“Oh, I’m pissed at them for sending you home,” you clarify, realizing the distinction is important here. “I’m not mad at you for doing what you felt was necessary.”

He clings to you for a moment, basking in your scent, the safety of your arms and the love that you so generously heap upon him. “We are leaving in two days.” He sighs. “They won’t give me anymore time. They want me out of the country.”

“I’ll hand in my resignation and clear out our desks tomorrow, then.” Practically crushing him to your chest doesn’t really fix anything, but it does make you feel a little better to have him solidly in your arms. Whenever things go wrong, you both always seem to hold each other a little tighter for a few days. “We should call Pops.” You murmur into his hair. “Assuming you’re still on board with going back to Texas?”

“Where the fuck else am I going to go?” The words come out more bitter than he intended them. But it’s the feeling of being sent to the corner for time out like a bad boy that has him bristling.

“Wherever we chose, Javier.” It’s not you that he’s angry with, you remind yourself when his tone makes you jump a little. “There’s two of us, and we’ve talked about settling down other places besides Laredo, so I’m making sure we’re on the same page. That’s all.” Discussions about California had dusted the debate of where to settle down after you’d convinced Javi that he would hate New York. You had even briefly considered New Mexico or Florida. But you always came back to Texas in the end.

“I’m sorry.” His tone mellows, his hands rub over your back. “I’m just feeling like a fucking failure.” He admits softly. “I don’t mean to take my shit out on you.”

“Let me take dinner off the stove.” Arms squeezing him tight once more before you step across the kitchen, your turn the knob on the radio until clicks off and set the large pot of chili aside. There’s no telling if he’s too upset to eat, or if this is a rare occasion when he wants to eat his feelings. “Baby…if this goes south…are we looking at jail time?” There are a lot of men deported from Colombia in the American federal prison system because of him, and you dread the thought of what could happen to him inside.

He shakes his head. “No.” He knows that wouldn’t happen. It was more the ass chewing he got from Crosby that confirmed that than anything else. “Nothing like that.”

“Thank god for small favors.” Pacing back over to him, both of your hands smooth over his tense shoulders and you sigh. “Then fuck it. Let’s go home. No more people shooting at you and no more unwinnable war.” It’s not as simple as that, either emotionally or mentally, but you know that for his sake you can’t dwell on it. Better to take the thing that is being forced on him and try to put a positive spin on it if you can.

His small bark of laughter is rough. But his hands tug you down into his lap. The need to hold you and use you to anchor him is too great to ignore. “You made Frito pie.” He mumbles against your shirt.

“You’ve been stressed lately.” Now, of course, you understand why and you shrug lamely. “I thought it might cheer you up a little.”

“You cheer me up.” He promises, head still buried between your breasts, and he sighs. “But half that pie is mine. As long as there’s pico.”

“As long as there’s pico.” You huff, mimicking him in a high voice. “That’s the first thing your mother ever taught me to make, do you think I would forget it?”

“No.” He actually pulls his lips up in a smile. “Because you are a good wife.” He teases.

“I do my best.” Your hands frame his cheeks, bringing his eyes up to yours. “You stood next to me proudly when I started over, now it’s my turn to do that for you. Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask, okay?”

“I just need you.” He promises softly. “I’m upset, but I’m okay as long as I have you.”

“I’m right here with you.” Dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose, you grin when he wrinkles his face at you reflexively. “We can make the best of this, baby. I promise.”

“I hope you aren’t too upset at me.” He murmurs softly.

“I’m upset that they took you off the case.” You try always to be completely honest with him, so claiming you’re not upset at all isn’t going to fly. But at least you can be specific about what’s doing it. “But I’m not upset that we get to start the next part of our lives together. Even if it’s a little sooner than we expected.”

He pulls away from you with a sigh. “Let’s eat, baby. I remember you don’t like Frito pie cold.”

“Cold chili is for maniacs and supervillains.” You tell him, moving across the kitchen again to get the pico and sweet tea out of the fridge.

“So which category do you place me in?” He asks with a small chuckle. He groans at the sight of the pitcher of tea. “I swear I’m getting a gut because of you.” He complains, rubbing his hand over his belly.

“You could always start getting up with me in the morning to work out a little.” You can barely get the sentence out with a straight face, giggling at the very idea of Javier doing sunrise runs with you. “Or I guess I can just stop cooking all your favourite foods.”

“Do I fucking look like I like running anymore?” He huffs playfully at you. “You get me up to run and there won’t be any fucking at all.”

“I can think of another form of exercise.” You mumble into the glass of tea you’ve just poured for yourself. It’s not that you want to push him, but your heart definitely leapt up into your throat when you realized what else going back to the States could mean.

He grins, hearing you. His eyes might be shit according to Steve but his ears were still sharp. “You wanna roll around in the hay loft like we’re sixteen again? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Think you can manage it without throwing your back out, old man?” Javi’s constant bitching about how everything hurts after 30 - as if you don’t already know - definitely leaves him wide open for that teasing.

“Fuck off.” He huffs playfully. “I haven’t seen you jumping off rooftops and chasing fucking sicarios across a comuna.” He does the incredibly mature thing and mean mugs you.

You’re sorely tempted to make a joke about how chasing sicarios is just a warm-up for chasing his own kids, but you falter. It’s never something he wants to talk about, seemingly preferring it stay a topic of the amorphous future. “There will be plenty to do around the ranch,” you say instead, nodding your head like a bobble-headed doll. “A little roll in the hayloft now and then will be well-earned.”

He snorts. “That’s gonna be where our firstborn is conceived.” He jokes, reaching for his glass of tea. The one bright and shining moment out of all of this is maybe that conversation can happen.

“It’s a miracle that it didn’t happen back then.” You hum, trying to keep the conversation light and easy while you fix your bowl and sit beside him at the table. Almost like Javi is a horse that could spook.

“Maybe it should have.” Javi mutters, reaching for your hand. “He wouldn’t have dared tried to keep us apart then.”

“Can you imagine?” The fact that he actually sounds wistful takes you off guard and you quirk your head at him. “They’d be seventeen by now.”

“God, we are old.” He sighs and squeezes your fingers lightly. “What do you think about - uh, stopping your birth control?” He asks. “Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Jeez, Javi.” Squeezing his hand right back, you practically deflate with visible relief. “I thought I was going to have to pry this conversation out of you with surgical precision.”

He snorts. “I did say once I was done with Escobar.” He reminds you wryly. “And I think I’m done.” He doesn’t tell you that talking about something good in the future is helping him deal with the loss of being kicked off the team. He knows you understand that. Like marrying him helped you get through resigning your commission.

“I just didn’t think it would be a light switch kind of situation.” Scooting closer to him, you shift your whole self to give him the comforting warmth of your body just like you have his. “I’m ready when you are, mi amor. Hell, I’ve been ready, I just didn’t want to disrespect the rules we set in place.”

“We are adults.” He rolls his eyes. “If Connie and Steve could adopt Olivia, we could have talked about this if you felt strongly about it.”

“But we didn’t, and that’s okay.” Knowing what kind of stress he’s put himself under, you’re actually glad you didn’t say anything. You can’t even imagine what he would have done if your baby had been born in the middle of this war. What you would have done. “Instead, I have a stupidly long list of baby names stashed in my jewelry box.”

"As long as we don't have a fucking 'Junior', I'm good." He shakes his head and shoots you a smile, trying to find something good in all of this. "We will pack and go home. Start planning our life outside of Colombia and narcos."

“I know damn well you don’t want a junior.” You snort, shaking your head at him. “Maybe this is just the universe telling us it’s time. Giving us a good thing out of a bad situation.”

He's quiet, not answering you but he pokes at his Frito pie and eventually nods before he forks up a bite and shoves it in his mouth. It's not that he disagrees, he's just still a little too raw to look on the bright side. Maybe by the time he gets to Texas he can look at it from that perspective.

The meal is mostly quiet. Every once in a while, one of you will make a quiet comment or mention something you do or don’t want to bring to Texas with you. It’s like an awkward working dinner, almost, because you know you don’t have much time to get things packed and shipped back to the States. Some things - the lumpy couch and cheap pans - you’ll be glad to say goodbye to. Others will be more of a debate.

Javi is quiet and he enjoys the pie, but he wishes there wasn't this cloud hanging over the meal. "I— it's not the way I wanted to go home." He tells you. "I know I'm going to be moody, upset. I just don't want you to think it's because of you."

“I know that.” Your hand curls around his thigh under the table not to distract him, but as an anchor. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m disregarding or ignoring your pain because I’m trying to look for bright spots on the horizon.” Encouraging yourself to look to the future is what has gotten you through all of the hardest patches in your life, but you know not everyone copes that way.

"I love you." He is so fucking grateful you are here. If it had just been him, he would be drunk already, wallowing in self-pity. Instead of doing that, he is eating dinner with his wife and discussing the future.

“I love you, too.” Squeezing his leg gently, you do offer him a gentle smile. “I know it fucking sucks right now, but we’ll be okay.”

******

“So your little Gacelita…how are things going?” Javier’s face burns when his dad mentions you. Turning to stare out the window at the passing fence posts, his stomach flips just thinking about you. He’s never had it this bad. Sure, he’s always liked - no, loved - girls, but you are completely different. “It’s good, Pops.” He mumbles quietly. The rattle of the truck on the rough roads is loud and he hopes that’s all there is to this conversation.

Chucho glances over at his son beside him in the bench seat and chuckles softly to himself. Javier is nearly red just from you being mentioned at all. He’s going to set fire before they make it back to the ranch. “Good?” He asks, voice laced with amusement. “You made plans for Valentine’s Day next weekend?”

“Yeah, um—” He blanks out and his eyes widen in horror. He’s not planned a damn thing beyond the flowers he ordered from Mrs. Rodriguez. “No. I’m gonna blow this and she’s gonna dump me.”

“Whoa, mijo, whoa.” The ferocity of his teen’s reaction makes him chuckle again. Everything is life or death when you’re sixteen - he remembers that well enough. “She not going to dump you, Javi. And you’re not going to mess anything up. Let your old man help you brainstorm a little.”

Javi bites his lip, embarrassed because the idea of you dumping him has him close to fucking tears. He shakes his head. “Nothing to fucking do here. Not unless I take her somewhere else.” He spits out more harshly than he intended, trying to cover his emotions.

“Where would you take her?” This conversation might be easier to steer than he first expected, and Chucho glances at Javier expectantly. He’s sixteen, and even though his girlfriend is a few months younger that doesn’t stop all those hormones from raging. Sixteen was how old he and Maria were when they started going steady, too. He’s not naive enough to think Javi is any different from him.

“Nice dinner.” He sighs. “Something better than the diner.” He looks over at his father and wonders what he did for his ma on their first Valentine’s Day. Not that he tries to wonder too hard about their relationship. That makes him queasy, especially since he knows they wanted more kids. “She’s special and she deserves more.”

“Do you want to borrow the truck? Get out of town for the night?” Chucho was planning on taking Maria out for dinner and a movie - a rare date night for two people who continuously keep busy - and they can easily take Maria’s little car into downtown for that. These kids…Chucho tries not to sigh. It’s obvious how crazy they are about each other, and he wants to make sure Javi is being safe and responsible. Too many things can go wrong when you’re young and impulsive and so clearly in the throes of puppy love. “I want to help, mijo. She’s a good girl and I know you…like her. A lot.”

Javi sighs. “I don’t think her dad will let me take her out of town.” He admits. It was too far away for somewhere really nice. He sighs again and gets an idea. “What about a picnic. Girls like those, right?”

“Girls like picnics.” His father agrees easily. His feelings about your parents don’t belong in this conversation. “Maybe you could take the truck into town and get a nice dinner from someplace nice? Eat under the stars?” It’s not so far off from his and Maria’s first Valentine’s Day, actually.

“She loves going down to the river.” He tells his dad. “I could put some blankets in the back of the truck and we could eat on the riverbank.” He straightens up slightly, cheered up by the idea. “That would be good. Romantic, right?”

“Very romantic.” Chucho nods approvingly as the truck continues to rumble down the road toward home. “Have you thought about getting her flowers? Or a gift?” It’s not that he thinks you’ll expect any of this - no, it’s that he knows that if Javier realizes these are things other girls get from their boyfriends and he didn’t do any of it? He’ll beat himself up for weeks.

“I ordered flowers from Mrs. Rodriguez.” Javi nods. “I went with pink roses. But I still haven’t figured out if I should get her something, too. What do you get a girlfriend?” He feels more comfortable now that he knows he’s not being judged. His dad is honest with him. “We’ve been dating for months but those promise ring ideas are stupid and I— I want it to be something she loves.”

“Well, you know her better than I do, son.” He raises an eyebrow at the mention of jewelry being stupid, but keeps his mouth shut. Promise rings are things teenage boys give their girlfriends when they want to stake their claim. “What does she love?”

“Rings.” Javi chews on his lip and crosses his arms over his chest and glances over at his dad. “Promise rings are stupid, right?” There’s a sense of un surety in his tone, having convinced himself that it was dumb. “People always break up after they have them, for stupid reasons.”

“If you’re not sure, then don’t make yourself crazy about it.” It’s some of his best advice about almost anything, but he snaps his fingers at the idea of jewelry. “What about a necklace or a bracelet?” He can’t remember if you have your ears pierced, never having paid that much attention. “It’s still jewelry, but without any of that hidden meaning.” The creases around his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Girls like jewelry, mijo. Trust me.”

“She likes necklaces.” Javi admits. “She mentioned a cameo, how she was kinda hurt that Vanessa got her abuela’s.” He mulls it over. “I could get her one for Valentine’s Day.”

Chucho tuts but doesn’t say anything, tucking away one more slight against you by your parents before he simply nods. “Cameos are very beautiful.” He agrees instead. “How about I give you an advance on some extra chores so you can get her something nice?” Maria will probably roll her eyes at him later and call him a softie, but damned if Chucho doesn’t want to help Javi make the celebration a nice one. He knows his boy is in love - he knows it as plain as the noise on his face - and he wants to teach him early that going the extra mile for someone you care about is a responsibility that is worth undertaking.

Javi grins. “That would be great! I’ll make sure that I make up for it.” He promises. “I’ll take over the morning feedings before school for the next two weeks. Let you sleep in a little.”

“So I’m getting a present, too?” He chuckles at the way Javier perks up, glad to see his son feeling more confident. But it’s not the end of the conversation. “Mijo…” Chucho clears his throat and shifts a little in his seat. “You are - you’re being responsible, verdad? Safe?”

“Pops!” His face feels like it’s going to burst into flames, and he slumps down into his seat on the bench. “We aren’t having sex! She’s too— we aren’t ready yet!” He wasn’t going to admit that it was something he thought of— a lot. What teenage boy didn’t? But he knows you aren’t ready yet, and he would rather die of blue balls than pressure you into sex. His ma would kill him, his pops would kill him after his ma got done with him.

“Okay, but mijo, it’s not just sex that needs to be safe. Sex isn’t the only kind of intimacy out there and I know you know that.” If the ground could just swallow him whole, he would be okay with that. Nothing quite prepared a man for having to talk to his teenager about sex, no matter how good the relationship between father and son is. “I was your age once, too, Javito. I just want you to know that you can talk to me.”

“She’s 15.” Javi squirms in his seat and stares at the bugs on the windshield, wishing he were one of them right now, so he didn’t have to go through this embarrassing conversation. “I’m not disgusting. I’m not like the assholes who push for blow jobs.” He practically whispers the last two words in embarrassment. “I love her.”

“I know, mijo.” How is it possible for him to actually get choked up during this conversation? Yet hearing that out of Javier’s mouth nearly does it. Those are the words of a young man, not a boy. Someone growing up to be respectful and good. Nothing could make him prouder than that. “And I know she loves you.” Javier huffs and it makes his father chuckle. “Anybody with eyes knows she loves you, too. But that’s exactly why I’m saying this. Things happen when you’re young and in love. And that’s okay, just as long as you’re responsible.”

“I— uh, they g-gave out condoms in, uh, health class.” Javi lifts his ass off the seat and pulls his wallet out from his left right back pocket. Pulling the foil wrapped rubber out just enough for his father to see. “If we do anything, I know to use it.” He swallows harshly, concentrating very hard on putting it away so he doesn’t have to look at his Pops.

“Okay.” Chucho nods, no more comfortable with the conversation than Javi is, by the looks of it. He can practically hear his son sigh in relief as the truck passes through the ranch’s open gates. “One more thing and I swear I’ll shut up,” he promises. “I don’t care how excited you get, how ready you are, anything of that.” He looks over at his son carefully. “Your first time is in a bed. End of story. If you respect her enough to take that step, then respect her enough to make her comfortable.”

“Yeah Pops.” Javi rushes out. “Can we please stop talking about this? Forever? Tell ma you gave me the talk and I’m good.”

“Yeah, mijo, we’re done. For now.” He chuckles again, mostly in his own relief, but points out the windshield at where your bicycle is leaning against the big tree outside the house when he pulls the truck to a stop. “Go say hi. You can unload the truck later.”

“Thanks Pops.” He hops out of the truck before it stops and shoots off like a rocket for the kitchen and you.

******

September 15, 1993 Laredo, TX

“Hey, there you are.” You wipe your damp hands on your jeans when you hear the front door and wander out of the kitchen with a smile. It’s been hours since Javi and Pops went into town to do a supply run and you just took a break from unpacking to come downstairs and get a drink. “How did everything go?”

“It went.” Javier rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your lips. He had spent way longer in town than he wanted to, having to sit through too many conversations and avoid questions of why he was back in Laredo. “You aren’t working too hard, are you?”

“I have one box left from Fort Dix and then I’m all unpacked.” Both of your arms come around him instantly, the unopened can of Diet Coke in your hand completely forgotten in favour of holding him close. It’s only been a few days since you arrived back in Texas, but you have spent every waking hour relentlessly voracious in your unpacking. This place is home now - it had been years ago and it’s where you’ve decided to spend your future - and the last thing you want is to stare at half-full boxes in the corner of the master bedroom for months after Chucho was so kind as to move his things into the old guest room so you two could have the big bed and private bathroom.

“It feels weird being here.” Javi tells you, sighs into your arms. “Not bad, but you know I almost went to my old bedroom last night when I got up to take a piss?”

“You would have been lonely when you woke up.” The image of him sleepy and discombobulated makes you grin.

“I’d have been pissed before I realized what happened.” He argues. “Thinking my wife went to sleep on the couch.”

“That couch?” You huff, looking over at the threadbare living room couch a few feet away. “No, that thing is getting replaced as soon as I can convince your Dad that’s what has been causing half of his back issues. I’m not sleeping on that thing.”

Javi chuckles. “We can get Pops a recliner for his birthday. I know he’s been wanting one.”

“Perfect.” Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you sigh happily at his familiar scent and hum. “Wanna help me with the last box? Then we can finish yours and maybe we’ll be done by tonight.”

“I’ll help you with whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your head. “I know you are ready to be unpacked and settled in.”

“It will do both of us good to feel like this is home and not some kind of weigh station.” Tipping your head back, you steal a kiss from his lips before snagging his hand and heading for the stairs. He may think you’re throwing yourself at all the unpacking a little too hard, but he’ll thank you when it’s done.

“What all do we have left to unpack?” He asks. “I think I’ve just got a box of physiology books. But I’m not unpacking them right now.”

“You have a half a box of stuff left that looks like albums and VHSs. I’m not sure what’s in my last box, to be honest.” At the top of the stairs you turn left instead of right, reminding yourself silently (like he had needed reminding last night) not to go to his old bedroom. “It was all sealed up at Dix and I just threw it in the truck.”

“Oh yeah.” Javi smirks and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Uh, don’t put those VHS tapes out in the living room.” He warns you. “Might give Pops a heart attack.”

“It’s those tapes. Got it.” Steve and Connie had given Javi a beautiful, sleek new camcorder last Christmas and the two of you had been putting it to good use ever since. But they are definitely not the sort of home videos you’ll be sharing with your father-in-law.

Javi snickers. “You don’t want your father-in-law to see you naked?” He asks playfully, slapping your ass as you walk into the bedroom.

“That’s not exactly on my list of good things in life.” You laugh, shaking your head at him as he follows you into the room and plops down on the big bed. “I love him, but the biggest eyeful he’ll ever get of me is in a bathing suit.”

He chuckles and hefts the last box you have up into the bed and reaches into his pocket for his knife. “Come see what this stuff is.” He motions you over.

The only labeling on it is your last name, and considering it’s your maiden name, the box has to be considerably older than just the most recent move. “Oh shit…” you murmur, when the first thing to catch your eye on the top of its contents is your high school letterman sweater. “No wonder I can’t remember what’s in this box. It’s been packed up since the Stone Age.”

“Oh?” He perks up slightly. Javier is nosy by training and snooping through your things sounds appealing. “Your very own time capsule huh? Like my old bedroom?”

“You could say that.” Holding up the sweater, you throw him a lopsided grin. “Remember these?”

“Oh God, you kept that?” He huffs, taking it from you and holding it up. “We’re going to have our twenty-year reunion soon.” He shakes his head.

“I guess I know what I’m wearing.” You grin when he wraps it around his shoulders like a shawl. “And then when we come home, I can wear just these, just for you.” The smile on your face turns a little naughty when you pull a white satin sash and dainty little rhinestone tiara out of the box next. Connie and Steve had nearly lost their minds when you told them (after a little too much rum) that you and Javi had been prom king and queen your senior year. “I guess this is all my high school stuff. I just kept bringing the box with me every time I moved instead of tossing it.”

“I’m surprised.” He admits softly. “I figured you would have gotten rid of it all.”

“Honestly?” Setting the prom tokens aside, you shrug at him and dig back in to pull out a photo album next. “I probably just shoved it in the back of my closet when I left for boot camp and just eventually forgot what was inside.”

He sighs, knowing there is no reason for either one of you to feel guilty about anything. You open the album, and he rests his chin on your shoulder as he smothers the guilty feeling of how he should have tracked you down. “Oh my god. Kids.” He mutters. “We were kids.”

“Look at you!” It comes out as a squeal, immediately followed by manic giggling as you flip through page after page of you and Javi as teens when it finally dawns on you what this box is. “Oh my god…” You shove the album aside and dive back into the box, knocking things around a little until you prove to yourself that you’re right. “This is…this is my Javi box…” Holy fucking time capsule Batman.

“Your ‘Javi box’?” His brow shoots up and when you open it, he waits for you to get the dreamy, awe struck look off your face and show him what’s inside.

“Yeah, it’s—” Completely overcome with all of the memories you didn’t know you still had, you tip the box over on the bed and watch his eyes widen as a time capsule of your early years together spills out in front of him. But the little blue velvet box in your hand is cradled safely in your fingers for him to see inside. “It’s all the things about us that I boxed up and put away after…after everything happened. Photos, mementos, all your gifts…” Gifts like the little cameo necklace from your first Valentine’s Day currently nestled in your hand.

“Jesus.” His fingers trace over the ivory of the silhouette. “I remember this so clearly. I almost got you a promise ring, but I was worried that it would be a bad omen.”

“A bad omen?” Lifting the necklace out of its box, you immediately reach to clasp the necklace around the back of your neck and adjust the collar of your shirt so the pendant sits comfortably on your chest. It’s wonderfully nostalgic to wear it again, and you lift one eyebrow at him as you remember the other very important detail of that particular night. “Because you knew I was going to give you a hand job in the bed of the truck?”

He smirks at the memory. “No, I definitely didn’t anticipate the hand job.” He huffs at you. “It seemed like everyone gave their girlfriends promise rings only to break up two weeks later.” He shakes his head. “It’s stupid looking back on it now, but I was scared it would happen to us.”

“That’s not stupid.” You promise him, but you have a shit-eating grin plastered on your face that belies the sweet tone in your voice. “You’re just a big softie. Always have been. Big, bad Javier Peña is really just a teddy bear when he’s in love.”

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, even as he pulls you into his arms. “Remind me why I married you again?”

“Because you looooooove me.” Giggling against his chest, both of your hands come up to cup his cheeks so you can press your lips to his. “You’re my teddy bear.”

He huffs but doesn’t pull away. “Jerk.” He smirks against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your ass.

“Your jerk.” You giggle evilly, rolling your hips a little to push your ass further into his hand. He hasn’t been particularly playful over the last few days - which is completely understandable - but it’s nice to see little glimpses of humor from him like this.

“Yes, you are.” He winks at you, leaning in and kissing you again. He pats your ass in a playful spank. “You can make it up to me. Wearing that tiara and sash tonight. No.” He changes his mind. “Just the cameo.”

“Scandalous.” Your tone is all faux shock, but the way you nip at his bottom lip is pure agreement. “Just the cameo, just for you.” If you’re honest with yourself, it will probably be at least a week or two before you go without it again. Finding back such a precious memory is something you hadn’t expected.

“Always hated how sad you were that your sister got your grandmother’s.” He murmured. “Imagined you passing it down to our daughter.”

“We can pass down this one.” It’s unbelievable to you, how he still remembers such seemingly small details so many years later. If you asked him, he would say that it’s not small at all, but that doesn’t stop you from appreciating the way he really listens to you and always has. It’s a highly underrated skill, the way he listens. “If we have two girls, we can let them pick from my jewelry box.”

“If we have two girls, I’m finding a cameo that is exactly the same.” Javier huffs. “We’re gonna be communists in our household. One will not be more important than the other.”

“How about we just let them have their own personalities instead of deciding for them what they’ll like?” You grin and kiss him gently before shrugging a little. “Vanessa didn’t even want it. Dad just never wanted me to get girly gifts.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Idiot.” He kisses you again. “So, you know Danny’s wedding is this weekend.” He reminds you softly.

“Mmhmm.” Another stolen kiss and you grin against his lips. “I gotta wear more than just the cameo to that, though.”

“Yeah…Lorraine’s been invited.” He tries to break the news gently, knowing you still feel things about her part in the lies.

You frown instantly, unable to hide your reaction to her name. Her existence. It’s not that you haven’t had plenty of time as a couple to work past what happened, it’s that you haven’t seen her since you found out what she did, and you can’t completely guarantee that you won’t want to smack the Aqua Net right out of her hair. “It’s Danny’s wedding, I won’t start shit.” That much you can promise. “But you bet your ass I’m going to dress the fuck up and drag you onto the dance floor as many times as you’ll let me.”

He groans at the prospect of having to dance. "I'm not dressing up." He warns you. "It would be weird if I did. But I'll dance with you. Just to say thank you for not starting shit."

“Will you at least wear slacks instead of jeans?” No one in his family is very fancy, and you sort of love that about them, but you do want to be respectful of how important the day is. “I’m not even asking for a tie, baby. We both know I’ll be in my cowboy boots with my dress. Half-fancy, if you will.”

He huffs and gives a small shrug. "It's supposed to be jeans." He reminds you. "I was going to wear the new ones you bought me and that red plaid shirt you bought with it."

“Alright, alright, jeans.” Huffing and rolling your eyes as though it were a big deal, you slip your hand down to his ass and squeeze. “All that matters is that I get to be there with you. It’s Danny’s day and we’re just there for them.”

******

He's more relaxed than he honestly thought he would be. It's been years since he's really been to any of the large family gatherings. Even though family and friends used any opportunity they could to get together and celebrate, Danny's wedding was still fun. People he hadn't seen in years, Danny included - dressed sharply in his Marine uniform - all talking and catching up. It was nice. His Nicorette gum keeps that craving for a cigarette at bay, knowing you will kill him if he sneaks outside for the rare smoke, his eyes roam the community center room, looking for you.

“You lose her again?” Chucho chuckles when he plops down beside his son at a table, obviously craning his neck to find you in the crowd. “Your tía Juanita caught her getting a sangria refill. You’ll be lucky to pry your esposa away in about five years the way Juanita is talking at her.”

Javi chuckles and shakes his head, "Well I guess I won't be getting her back anytime soon." He tells his pops. "All of this reminds me that I need to get my wife an engagement ring."

“All this reminded you?” That makes Chucho laugh again, but he shakes his head at his son. “You really didn’t have time for yourselves down there, did you?”

“I went the day we got married to get her ring.” He huffs, feeling a little self-conscious. “It was about making sure she could stay in Colombia and then…I was trying make sure I got everything done.”

“Okay, so she needs an engagement ring.” The elder Peña nods in authoritative agreement. “I don’t know what you’ll find here, but they just opened a new jewelry store in the mall.” The place he had bought Maria’s things closed down years ago, and it’s not as though Chucho has bought much jewelry lately. “You might have to drive out to Corpus Christi.”

Javi purses his lips. “Yeah.” He looks around and reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

“You’ve got a couple of months before your anniversary.” He tries to be encouraging, wishing he had held on to the engagement ring that Javier had bought when you were kids. What he wouldn’t give to be able to return it to the two of you now - but Maria had taken charge of selling it years ago. “Plenty of time to find something she’ll like.”

“Yeah.” Javi’s mind whirls as he imagines giving you a ring for your anniversary. “I just have to see if her taste has changed.”

It takes a moment, but Chucho sighs slightly and takes a sip of the beer that has been sitting in front of him since he sat down. “You’re welcome to give her anything of your Ma’s, mijo. I have her jewelry box in my closet.” He hasn’t been able to even open it since she died. It had been sitting on the dresser collecting dust like a relic until he moved his things into the spare room so the two of you could have the master bedroom. But he knows it’s what Maria would want him to say. She loved you like a daughter even back then. She would be proud to see you wear her things.

"Thanks Pops." Javi reaches over and squeezes his father's arm. He knows how much his mother's death was felt by the older man every day. He could honestly say that he had an amazing example of what true love was in his parents and he had never felt it with anyone other than you. It was the reason he had never settled down after getting out of marrying Lorraine. "We can look through her jewelry after. I know she would be honored."

“She cried the night I told her you wanted to propose.” Chucho huffs at the memory, a watery smile creeping across his face. “She was so proud of you. Growing up so fast and ready to jump in headfirst.” She had also been devastated right alongside her son when you had left, but at least Maria had had a better idea where to lay the blame.

Javi sighs, remembering that time when he was so very happy and then upset when you told him you were moving. That upset turning to bitter anger, your name a curse in his eyes and he refused to talk about you, to anyone. "I wish she could have seen where we ended up." He murmurs softly.

“Tu madré está mirando.” Chucho promises, his voice just as quiet. “Ella sabe.” (Your mother is watching. She knows.)

Both men are quiet as they think about the woman that each of them had loved in different ways. Javi looks over at you again and gives a soft smile. "I better go save her, so she doesn't starve to death." He jokes. "That's a sin at a party around here."

Talking to Tía Juanita is a little like having an overexciting happy dog nipping at your heels - it’s fun for about two minutes before you’re already exhausted and wishing she weren’t so sweet, so you’d have an excuse to run away. But as the youngest of Chucho’s sisters, you smile and nod and make delighted sounds at all the right places in the stories about her kids, waiting for the ball to drop on the question. “Ay, querida, when are you and Javier going to give us some beautiful bebitas?” You smile, and sigh inwardly at the inevitability and how often you’ve been asked that today by his various relatives and all your old friends. “We’re working on it,” you tell them all with a breezy chuckle, wishing you knew where Javi is.

Javi moves through the crowd of people, nodding at various family friends and smiling at a couple of cousins. Jesus, when did Isabella have twins? He finds you and his hand automatically goes to your waist. "Gacelita, Tía." He murmurs.

You turn in to kiss his cheek immediately, hiding the quick way you pinch his arm as if to ask Where have you been? but his tía jumps in before you can say a word. “Javito, why are you not dancing with your bride?” Juanita scolds, obviously considering it the greatest injustice in the world that you have been neglected. “How do you expect to give her a baby if you will not even dance with her?”

His grin is hidden when he leans in to kiss your neck. “Because dancing leads to babies?” He whispers in your ear. “Let me steal her from you and correct that. tía.” He guides you away from his aunt easily with her waving the two of you away.

Burying your amused chuckle in his shoulder, you lean easily into your husband’s side on the makeshift dance floor and wrap your arms around him. “Everything leads to babies if you ask Juanita.”

“Well then we should already have about twenty.” Javi teases you softly, tugging you close and starting to sway to the country song.

“Thank god for birth control,” you joke quietly. You’ve only been off the pill for about two weeks at this point, having made the decision to start trying for a baby the night the Miami Herald story broke and Javi was told he was being sent home. It was the silver lining in all the bad - a thing to look forward to despite all the heartache. “Twenty is definitely too many.”

“What? You don’t think you could have that many?” He teases. “I’m honestly surprised I don’t have any mini Peñas running around.”

“I am completely okay with you not having a bunch of kids with other women.” You grumble, knowing your possessiveness is showing.

He chuckles, smirking at the way that your hands tighten around him. His gaze roams around the room and he spots the blonde hair of probably the biggest embodiment of that statement. “Nope, no kids and no other women for me.” He promises.

“Danny looks happy.” The last time you saw Javi’s young cousin he was maybe six years old. He had grown into every inch a typical Peña man - broad shoulders and black hair with a hint of mischief always in his eyes. “I’m glad we came, mi amor.”

“Me too.” He sees Lorraine turn and her eyes widen slightly when she catches sight of Javi. “Although that might change in a minute.”

“Did she see us?” True to your word, you hadn’t said anything when you spotted Lorraine across the community center about a half hour ago. You had just excused yourself to powder your nose and stopped to get a refill of your drink, and then been blindsided by tía Juanita.

“Yep.” Javi pops the ‘p’ and looks back at you. “Head out or head on?” He asks, wanting to know how you wanted to handle this.

You blow out a breath, sending the hair on the back of his neck waving in the breeze, before you turn your head slightly to kiss his cheek. “Head on. Let’s just deal with it. Otherwise it’s only going to get more dramatic and awkward.”

He hums in agreement and squeezes your waist before he pulls away and you turn slightly as you walk off the dance floor. Javi moves his hand to your back and rubs it slightly when Lorraine walks up.

“Well, you could just blow me over with a feather. Lookit what the cat dragged in.” The smile is painted on her face and you can’t tell if her twang has deepened with the effort of trying to keep her faux delight in place, or if it’s just got thicker over time. Her eyes dart over you nervously, and you can feel the shock at seeing you roll off her in waves. “Good of y’all to come celebrate with Danny while you’re in town.”

"Town gossip apparently isn't what it used to be." Javi muses, looking over at you with wry amusement. "You didn't hear that we've moved back? We aren't just in town, we're here to stay." He tells her with no little amount of glee in him over watching her smile tighten.

“Ya don’t say?” Of course she had heard. Cindy Hightower had practically run to her house with the news after seeing you at the supermarket last week, deeming it much too important for a phone call.

“Mm.” Your noncommittal hum is punctuated by the way you rope your arm around Javier’s waist to deliberately flash your wedding band in the buzzing halogen lights of the center. “Married almost two years now. Guess the universe just couldn’t keep us apart. No matter how hard it tried.”

It’s interesting to see the color flood her cheeks. “Well, it’s good and all to see that some childish things never get old.” She gives a wooden smile. “Two years and no babies? Not for you? I’m sure that it’s a horrible downgrade from being in the Army. Although I'm sure Chucho gave up on grandbabies when Jav ...left."

“Not everyone measures their marriage by how many children they’ve had,” you remind her, simultaneously reminding yourself not to just straight up punch her in the jaw for her part in what happened. “But since you’re ever so curious—” Nosy. “Our work has kept us plenty busy, but this time next year I’m sure there will be another little set of feet pattering around the ranch.”

“Really?” Lorraine arches a brow and her lips purse in a smile that is not quite genuine. “Well, I’m happy to hear that! I’m sure the doctors know what they are doing.”

What the fuck does that mean? You refuse to show confusion in your face though, simply smiling back and squeezing Javi’s side a little. “I’m sure we’ll see you around town,” you say, trying your best to sound polite as you step backward to nudge Javi back toward the dance floor.

Javi nods, and his eyes drift past Lorraine to where Randy is minding the two children that she had created with the man she married after he had left her at the altar. "Give Randy my best." He tells her as he turns and gives you his total attention. "I think she was taking a pot shot at us having kids at our age." He huffs as he pulls you into his arms. "Or I am reading too much into that doctor comment?"

“Is that what she meant?” Burying your frown in his shoulder, you huff when he starts to away lightly with you in his arms. “She remembers I’m younger than her, right?” Mid 30s isn’t exactly ancient, even if it feels like it sometimes.

"Don't listen to anything she says." He huffs. "She's just bitter that no one is upset that I left her at the altar."

“Cunt as dry at Chihuahuan Desert.” You’re grumbling - you know you’re grumbling - but passive aggressive church lady rivalries aren’t your style. You’d much rather land a right hook and then call the whole thing over with. You can take the girl out of the Army, but you can’t take the Army out of the girl. “Don’t know how you survived her sometimes.”

Javi flashes you a grin. “I was drunk most of the time.” He admits, leaning in a kissing you softly. “Enough beer you don’t care. I think my liver was happy I went into the DEA.”

“Jesus.” The grimace you give him is pronounced. “The DEA was light drinking?” You’ve both cut back since leaving Colombia, just out of reduced stress.

“Yeah.” Javi shakes his head and looks around the reception hall. “Are you ready to leave, baby?”

“Might as well.” Things are suddenly feeling less festive, and Chucho drove separately to the church, so you don’t have to feel guilty about asking him to leave early. “Maybe we can sneak out the back without your tías noticing.”

Javi's hand slides down and he squeezes your ass. "If we run into any of them, we will just tell them that we are going to make babies." He teases.

“They’ll throw us a damn parade.” You snicker and press in to kiss him softly. “Let’s go home, baby.”

You both make your way over to Danny and his bride, congratulating them again before both of you are out the door and hustling across the parking lot with the mid-evening sun of September still blinding everything and making him hand his aviators over to you. He's learned that you refuse to carry sunglasses and he keeps a spare pair in the truck for just that occasion.

“I missed the way Texas smells.” Living all over the world has given you the odd insight that places have very distinct natural aromas the way people do, and the dry southern Texas heat with its particular flora carries a particular scent you’ve never encountered anywhere else. “I know that’s weird. But it…it smells like home.”

"Sweat, dirt, and cows mixed with the Grande?" He lifts a brow at you as he starts the truck and puts it in drive. "That's home?"

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at him and snort. “All that, plus your boot stink.”

He huffs at you, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. "you" incoherent mumbling "- stink."

“Excellent comeback. Very mature. Very articulate.” Dissolving into laughter beside him, it’s all you can do not to fold in half in the passenger seat from his ridiculous rebuttal.

"Fuck off." He turns his head to hide his own grin, even though his hand slides across the console so he can grab your thigh. "I'll just have to take my boot stink somewhere else." He threatens playfully.

“Why do you think I make you take them off at the door?” The playful bickering is easy. Just teasing between two people aimlessly crazy about each other who are still ball busters.

"I honestly thought it was because you didn't want cow shit tracked through the house. But apparently it's because the boots stink." He shakes his head. "Not like your bras don't smell like shit before you wash them because of your tits sweating."

You snort in amusement, raising at eyebrow at him as he drives. “If my tits are so gross then why do you like to suck on them so much?”

"I did not say your tits are gross." He corrects you quickly. "I said your bras get gross." He chuckles. "I could ask the same question about my dick." He doesn't know how the two of you really got on this conversation, but he loves the fact that he can joke with you. Even as he hates being sent home, there is a certain light heartedness about being back home.

“I can just stop sucking your dick if you’re concerned about hygiene.” Honestly, if Javi had issues with cleanliness, you would have cured them with shower sex by now. But making you kiss an ashtray was his worst offense, and he switched over to nicotine gum more than a year ago.

"Got it...no bitching about the gross bras. Noted." He smirks over at you. "You could do it now, if you wanted." He teases, waggling his brows and glancing at the road before he looks down at his crotch.

“You want road head after teasing me about under-boob sweat?” Your tone is fully teasing, but you’re already shifting in your seat to lay across the bench.

"It's only cause I'm jealous of the bra." Javi confesses, his tone serious. "It's my job to hold up your tits."

“Are you going to walk behind me all day every day? Just be my human bra all the time and hold up my tits?” The image makes you giggle again, even as your fingers dance across the front of his jeans to pull open his belt.

“Shit, are you really?” He chokes when you cup him through the jeans. “Fuck.”

“Eyes on the road, handsome.” The warning is sing-song, as you pull open Javi’s belt and pop the button on his jeans to be able to drag his zipper down easily. True to form, he didn’t bother to put on boxers or any other kind of underwear today, and the moment his jeans are open you practically drool at how he’s half hard just from having you nearby.

“Fuck baby.” He hisses when you reach in and pull him out. Feeling himself grow and harden while you start to lightly stroke him. “You look so fucking good today.”

“My ass is about to be hanging out of this dress,” you giggle, feeling lighter than air in this moment of indulgence. Feeling Javi’s cock grow under your attention is one of your favorite sensations and you’re savoring the hell out of it as you roll back his foreskin and kitten lick the tip of his cock.

“Shit.” His dick jumps at the feeling of your tongue. Fingers are white knuckling the steering wheel because the last thing he wants is for him to crash and you to get hurt. Or bite his dick off. Your tongue drags around the sensitive head, and he moans quietly. “Good goddamn thing we left.”

You hum as you lick a hot stripe up the length of his cock, loving the way he has turned to steel in your hand. “Get some alone time.” Not that Pops doesn’t give you plenty of privacy, but you’re always hyper aware of your volume when your father-in-law is home. “Make me scream your name.”

“Fuck.” He hums and sneaks a glance down at you. You always look like you love sucking his cock. Which he could understand since burying his mouth in your cunt was his second favorite pastime, fucking you narrowly beating that out. “Wanna go up to the hayloft?”

The sound you make when you pop off of him is obscene and beautiful. “Fuck yes,” you moan happily. “Our spot.”

“Pops was pissed I didn’t take you to bed the first time.” Javi muses. “Had to convince him you didn’t want to go into the house.”

“Too awkward.” You barely get the words out as your tongue swirls around his blunted head. “And too eager.”

He groans and squeezes his eyes closed for a second before he has to look back at the road. Damn near misses the turn to the ranch. “Shit.”

“Eyes on the road, cowboy.” Your hand dips into his jeans to cup his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers while you fill your mouth with his length. Inch by inch he disappears until you have to swallow around him, feeling that beautiful stretch and burn in your throat instead of your pussy.

“Goddamnit.” He huffs and grips the wheel even tighter. “Don’t want— fuck.” He bites his lip and smothers another moan. “Wanna be in you.” He’s technically on Peña land when he jerks the wheel and the tires skid when he stops the truck. Knowing he’s not going to last long, and he wants to be buried in your cunt when he does bust.

Swallowing once more just to hear him moan, you carefully pop off of him and sit up in your seat again. “Back, bed, or bench?” You ask, giving him the option of how he wants to fuck you, since you’re out in the middle of nowhere: on his back in the back of the truck, bending you over with the truck bed for leverage, or right there on the bench seat.

He’s already out from behind the wheel and reaching for you. “Right fucking here.” He growls, dragging you over his thighs to straddle him.

“Needy.” You tease, not that you mind one little bit. It’s that much better though, when he reaches between you to shove your panties aside and finds nothing but a bare, dripping cunt waiting for him. “Whoops.” You grin and nip at his neck. “Looks like I forgot underwear too.”

“I fucking love you.” He groans and lines himself up before he’s thrusting up into you with a groan.

The unapologetic way he needs to be inside you makes you whimper, holding on to his shoulders while you roll your hips in his lap and sink down to take him fully. “Fuckin— fuck baby I love you, too.”

“Jesus.” He wraps his arms around you and starts to move under you. “One social, fuck, event and we’re fucking like rabbits in the truck like we-we’re teenagers again.”

“Except this time there’s no lecture f-from, oh god,” the words slip for a second when the flat of his hand comes down on your ass sharply. “From Father Martín.” One time you got caught making out behind the church after sneaking out of a Sunday service and wow had the lecture about purity and self-control been lengthy and condescending.

He huffs out a chuckle. “And I fucked you twice right after.” He reminds you, the urge to rebel had been strong and he was seventeen and horny.

“I talk to god a fuckton more with you than in church.” You giggle, but it turns into a throaty moan when Javi shifts his hips to snap them up, filling you again in one powerful thrust.

“Yeah?” He pants out, already breathing heavy but he’s bracing his feet on the floorboard so he can drive up into you harder, keeping you close to him so he doesn’t slam your head into the roof.

“So— oh my fucking god, baby — so good to me.” The fingers of one of your hands wind in his hair, tugging his head back so you can kiss him while you whimper and clench down on his cock. “Always so fucking good to me.”

He groans into your mouth and one of his hands moves to your clit. Pressing his thumb to the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing while he continuously moves inside you. You whine, hips bucking as you grind down in desperate search of your orgasm. “So close.” The way the coil in your belly is tightening, you could burst at any moment.

“Do it.” He growls out, continuing to rub your clit and bouncing you on his cock. His teeth nip at your neck, and he hums when you clench around him. “Cum, mi esposa.”

“Fuck, fuck, Javi!” You slam down in his lap twice more behind your whole body tenses up and draws him in, bearing down on his pulsing cock as you shudder with pleasure in his arms.

He’s immediately following after you, burying his nose against your pulse and groaning out your name while his body gives into that need. His cock twitching and pumping his seed into your womb and flooding you with heat.

Your whole body relaxes, slouching in his lap and making you yelp in surprise when your ass nudges the steering wheel just enough to press the truck’s horn. It sends you into a fit of giggles instead and you hold on to him for dear life while you both shake with laughter.

“God it’s never boring with you.” He murmurs, kissing your lips and sighing while he feels himself start to soften inside you. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait.”

“If you wanted a boring wife, you should have married Lorraine.” You throw him a wink and lean down to kiss him softly. Shifting carefully off his lap, you spin around on the seat and lay with your head beside his ass, feet and half your legs dangling out the open window and you grin up at him when he tilts his head at you. “Can’t waste it,” you explain simply, shrugging up at him. Any chance at making a baby is precious - if that means sitting like a weirdo in his truck on the way back to the house instead of your normal position with some pillows under your knees, then so be it.

“Never thought I’d see you trying to keep my cum inside you.” He chuckles. “Although 18-year-old me never got to experience you without a condom.”

“I’m fucking proud of us for never even having a scare.” It would have been terrifying, and even if it would have potentially kept you together, teen parenthood would ultimately not have been a good idea for either of you “Besides, it was recently pointed out to me that I’m old, so I’ll take any extra help we can get.”

He snorts. “You aren’t old.” He promises you. “We haven’t even hit our 20-year reunion. Then we can be old.”

“Jav…” You reach up, fingers trailing along his jaw as he tucks himself away and turns the key in the steering column. The warmth of the night is seeping into your bones and making you sleepy on the heels of your little emergency quickie. “Take me home, baby? I’m feeling snuggly.”

“Hmmm.” His hand cups your cheek and then down your neck and between your breasts to your stomach. “My wife needs to curl up with her husband?” He asks softly.

“Yes, please.” Batting your eyelashes daintily, the weight of his hands on your skin makes you hum with contentment.

“Then we will go to bed, baby.” He doesn’t mind that at all. Nothing beat the sleep he got when he was wrapped around you. The sleep here in Texas better than Colombia.

“Nooooo.” The protest is positively childish but you don’t care, because it makes him smile as he starts pulling the truck back out into the beaten path to the house. “I’m not sleepy, just snuggly. Might even want to ride you again before we fall asleep if you’re up for it later.”

“No one said we were going to sleep.” He amends. “I said we were going to bed. But don’t blame me if I fall asleep. Having you naked, post orgasm in bed makes me sleep like a baby.”

******

You scamper upstairs when you get back to the house, boots rejected by the door and purse hung on the coat rack with his leather jacket. It’s more than wanting to get in bed and snuggle up, the need to pee from all that sangria snuck up on you, too.

Javi starts laughing before he even closes the bedroom door. You’ve always sounded like an elephant pissing. The loud sound coming from the open bathroom door. “Feel better, Gacelita?”

“Yep.” You do, but you a still flick clean water at him and wrinkle your nose when you come out of the bathroom. “It’s only gonna get louder and more frequent when I’m pregnant, babe.”

He snorts and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Yeah, but the cute little waddle will make up for it.” He teases. Pulling the shirt out of his pants, he shrugs it off and tosses it into the clothes hamper.

“I hope you still think it’s cute when you’re giving my waddlers a foot rub every night.” Your dress follows his shirt into the hamper, and you unhook your bra with a sigh before falling into bed naked.

“Considering you’d be waddling because of me; I’d be a dick if I didn’t.” He shoves his jeans down and peels off his socks and leaves them on the floor before he crawls into the bed beside you. “Shit.” He huffs and sits up. “Forgot. Be right back.”

“Okay?” He pads out of the room in all his naked glory, and you just shrug and cuddle up under the covers. You’re far too relaxed to really care what he’s up to. He’ll be back in a minute, and you can curl up to him instead of his pillow.

It was easy to find the box, up on a shelf above the hangers. It makes him pause when he sees the box with his ma’s wedding dress, something he had seen countless times growing up. Now that he’s back with you and married, it makes him realize how deep losing Maria had cut Chucho. Fingers wrap around the wooden box, and he pulls it down carefully and carries it back into the bedroom.

“What’s that?” You sit up in bed when he walks back in with what looks like a keepsake or jewelry box of some kind.

“It’s ma’s jewelry box.” Javi tells you as he walks over to the bed and sets it down in front of you before he goes back to close the door and join you. “Pops said— well, he said Ma would have wanted you to wear and enjoy some of her things.”

“Oh my god.” Your fingers brush the stained wood carefully and when your eyes flick back up to meet his, they’re definitely a little more watery than usual. “Is this okay with you, mi amor?” Pop’s permission is only half of it for you, these are as Javi’s mother’s things and as honoured as you would be to inherit them, you don’t want to upset him at all.

“Baby…” He bites his lips and his fingers curl around yours on top of the box. “I know my mother would have been thrilled to have you as her daughter-in-law and insisted you have anything you loved.” He tells you passionately. “I – her wedding dress is still in Pop’s closet, and it made me think about how he must have felt.

“Your mom was great. So many other girls had horror stories about their boyfriend’s moms and I just…she was always so nice to me.” Slipping your fingers along the side of the box, you pop the latch carefully and open the top to reveal perhaps two dozen pairs of earrings carefully tucked into velvet lined indentations and several dainty fashion rings in various finishes with brightly coloured stones. “Maybe…maybe if we have a girl…her middle name could be Maria?” It’s a sentimental idea, one you’ve bandied back and forth with yourself over the last few months without ever mentioning but you know it would mean the world to Chucho, and Javi loved his mother fiercely. You would be happy to honour her legacy of love and support.

“Y-yeah.” Javier whispers quietly, more touched than he can ever tell you. “I would like that.” He looks at the jewelry and recognizes most of the pieces. Some he had ‘given’ to his mother when he was younger and his Pops had really picked out the gift, others some he had seen her wear religiously, like the small gold crosses. She had been buried in a similar pair.

“Oh wow…” Chuckling a little, you pick up a small pair of gold hoop earrings with green glass beads at the stud. “I gave her these for Christmas one year. I can’t believe she kept them…”

“She was a sentimental woman.” He murmurs, reaching up and squeezing your shoulders as you both sift through memories. “She never lost faith in you.” He tells you. “Only time I really yelled at Ma was when she was trying to tell me that you wouldn’t move on, and I told her I never wanted to talk about you again. Surprised she didn’t beat my ass.”

“She wanted you to be happy.” That much you’re sure of, looking back it’s obvious that she saw how you complemented and challenged each other. She was the biggest fan of your relationship. Your fingers dance over her wedding rings and you smile softly. “Let’s save these for our kids,” you hum, feeling yourself get misty. “Maybe they’ll go to the next Peña bride.”

“Yeah, I don’t want Pops to give them up just yet.” He leans in and kisses your shoulder.

There are some beautiful things here. Of course there are, Maria had great taste. Timeless pieces that will never go out of style alongside some particularly 60s and 70s looking things that she accumulated over time. When you open up the drawer underneath the main compartment there are some beautiful necklaces carefully pinned into the velvet lining so the chains don’t tangle, and you smile at them each as you run your fingers over them. There is a small jeweler’s box tucked into the back corner of the drawer and you expect a pair of fine earrings - Maria loved green so maybe emeralds? - but something very different is sitting inside. A gold ring with small diamond chips - seven in total. Six in a circle to represent flower petals and one in the center ringed in silver to complete the flower. You’ve had this ring described to you before and you gasp instantly. It can’t be…

“Oh my god.” Javi chokes out, his hand reaching out and taking the box from you and stares down at the ring he had thought was long gone. “I— this is the engagement ring I bought for you. How—” He blinks back tears. “She kept it. She gave me the money for it and kept it.”

“Oh my god…” The words are on your lips too, the same disbelieving tears in your eyes, and wonder on your face. “She…she really never did give up on us, did she?”

“No.” Javi shakes his head, and he bites his lip. “Ma loved you.” He reaches out and laces his fingers with yours. “I— I never told you but— she, uh, at the end she talked about you. How she missed you and wished she could see you one last time. Tell you how much she loved you.”

“Can we go see her tomorrow?” The tears in your eyes fall freely at that, guilt twisting your gut as you squeeze his hand tightly. You know she’s buried at Nuestea Señora Del Rosario but haven’t ventured out there yet. Not even when you came back with Connie last year. “I—I just want to talk to her. Tell her that everything’s okay. I know your dad says she’s always watching but…I don’t know. It’s silly, but I feel like she’ll hear us better there.”

“Of course.” Even if he didn’t ever go to his mother’s grave, he would never deny you that. Holding the box still, he wraps his arm around you and tugs you to his chest. “We can go visit her, Gacelita”

“It’s beautiful, by the way.” Pressed against his chest, you wrap both arms around him and hold on tight. The way your heart is pounding, you just can’t hear anything else except the blood in your ears and his deep voice. “The ring…it’s…it’s stunning.”

"I— would you want to wear it?" He asks you softly. "The real reason I wanted you to go through the jewelry was to see what you might like so I could get you an engagement ring for our anniversary."

“Baby.” You look up at him with a fully incredulous expression, and a smile that betrays it. “I would be honoured to wear it. It— I mean —” You huff a little, sniffling through the words and trying to get yourself to form a coherent sentence. “This is my engagement ring, mi amor. It doesn’t matter how long it took to get to me.”

He flushes slightly, ears burning and rubs the back of his neck. "I don’t— I bought it as a kid. I didn't know if-if you like it, considering - you know, tastes change." His own inability to string together sentence is pissing him off but he's a little less sure about the ring now than he was when he bought it.

“I love it.” You promise him, pressing a kiss to his burning cheek. “I love it now as much as I would have loved it then.” Putting aside the fact that you love flowers with your jewelry, it actually is a beautiful piece.

"Okay." He grins at you, boyish and shy and even though he's butt ass naked, he slides off the bed and down to one knee. "Gacelita, will you wear this engagement ring that should have been yours nearly 18 years ago and make me smile every time I see it on your hand?" He asks with a wink.

“Get up here.” You’re laughing and smiling through the tears when you beckon him back up on the bed. “I love you, and I can’t wait to wear my ring proudly.”

“Well, let’s see if it fits.” He huffs, knees popping slightly, and he plucks the ring out of the box and tosses the velvet container aside.

It slips onto your finger easily and you practically giggle when he leans down to kiss it and your finger. “It would have been so big when you bought it.” You tell him, holding back a full guffaw. “I would have been wearing it in my thumb until we got it sized.”

"Yeah, well, I figured you had fat fingers to go with that big head of yours." He jokes, smirking at his juvenile comeback.

“Don’t be a butthead.” You elbow him square in the ribs, never taking your eyes off the beautiful ring now sitting beside your wedding band. “My head isn’t as big as your big mouth.”

"You don't mind my big mouth when I get your entire cunt in it." He teases, kissing your shoulder and his thumb brushes over the ring again. "It's perfect on your hand just like I knew it would be, mi esposa."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt

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Dedicated WIP Side Blogs

A couple of months ago I got very frustrated with Tumblrs tagging system not bringing up everything related to my WIP when I searched my own blog.

I decided to make a dedicated side blog, and reblog everything I'd shared so far in one location so that it was easy for me, and hopefully future readers, to browse through and find things.

I went through my entire archive of posts on tumblr, one post at a time, and reblogged anything I'd posted about my WIP, Stolen. While I was doing this, I realised that I also had posts about Fey Touched, and brief mentions of my other projects...

So I made dedicated side blogs for them too.

All of my dedicated side blogs are linked in my pinned Writeblr Intro Post, but in case anyone reading this is interested in following a specific project of mine, and missed those links, I'm attaching the information below the cut and will be reblogging this post monthly for the foreseeable future.

Reblogs and shares of this information are, of course, more than welcome <3

The Fey Touched Trilogy

The Fey Touched Trilogy is my debut series. It's a Romance Portal Fantasy following Lizzy Hail, and her best friend Booker Reed, as they try and track down the exact cause of Lizzy's mothers disappearance.

When they two fey pass through a portal into the mortal realm, they do not expect to find and be hunted by kavians, the rabid and monstrous cousins to the vampires.

Saved from a near-death situation by Andric Roche, and taken to a vampire safe haven, it's up to Lizzy and Booker to convince the vampire to help them, or give up on finding the answers they travelled so far to find.

A Little Touch of Magic

A Little Touch of Magic will be a series of vignettes. Short stories following the main character, a witch by the name of Lucille Corrobane.

As we follow her journey training to become a fully fledged member of her family's coven, she's bound to discover the darker side of magic, and just how deeply within it her family is entrenched.

A Grim Awakening

A stand alone novel, 'A Grim Awakening' is going to be an Urban Fantasy that will follow the story of Krysis, a grim reaper who seeks an end to the monotony of her eternal life.

Rumors of Grim Reapers being killed lead her into the city of London, where she stumbles across a paramedic with the burgeoning powers of a minor deity.

Jack Sanger has ability to catch the souls of his patients and revive them from the brink of death, and against all odds it makes Krysis curious.

Jack is new and interesting, but his powers could lead Krysis to stumble into more trouble than she can handle, especially when there's another minor deity stalking the city, who abilities are far from benign.

Stolen Stories

Stolen, and it's subsequent sequels, are the stories closest to my heart.

When Stella Korazon, a talented young thief, finds herself unexpectedly alone, she had to find a way to navigate a path through the world of Moryann without succumbing to the more dangerous corners of the land.

Instead, she stumbles into the middle of a war between two thieves guilds. Manipulated into working for one side against the other, she has to find a way to keep herself alive long enough to escape the vine-like clutches of the city.

Stolen is planned to be a six book romantic epic fantasy. My manuscript for book one is already complete, but publication is being delayed until I can afford editing for a 145k book. Book two, Takeover, is approximately 1/3rd completed too.

The Chronicles of Verald

This is my newest project, and is therefore the one most liable to big changes, and plot/worldbuilding fluctuations.

The Chronicles of Verald also intimidates the hell out of me because from the moment I first conceived of the idea I knew it was going to be huge.

My map is the biggest map I've ever made. My plot spans a longer time period than I've ever covered. Even the bare bones of my worldbuilding is bigger than I've ever tackled, and I've been forced to create a bestiary for my own reference... and I've barely scratched the surface.

Verald is going to be a long-spanning epic fantasy series (My current outline suggests at least 9 books), including everything from curses, and witches, to monster fighting, rivals-to-lovers, with deaths and rebirths. Vampires, and witches, and werewolves, oh my!

I don't have a synopsis or blurb to share just yet, because I'm still figuring all the details out but it's going to be glorious, and I'm very excited about it.