#i just wish she had reacted in a way that wouldn’t cause life long crippling of my social skills

[dagasinfilo]

i yearn. i remember when i was 12 i was always so excited to come home to talk to my friends on the puter. they liked me! and i was sure of it too! up to that point i didn’t know how that felt. people would start conversations with me and i’d start conversations with them back. i mingled! and i didn’t care and i cared so fucking much. i felt a belonging i don’t think i ever felt since. like i’m thankful i got to feel that at least once in my life but man i wish that wasn’t stripped from me so violently.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 46

Title: Not Broken, Just Bent

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty​

“I appreciate this,” Tyler says, as he and Desi work side by side in the front foyer; assisting the three littles with the zippers on their coats and the laces on their boots.

He’d called the neighbour on a whim; desperate for even the smallest bit of help. He’s never been one to just reach out to others; long drilled into him that only a pathetic and weak man needs a helping hand. But if the first nightmare in Dhaka had taught him anything, it’s that even the biggest and strongest need someone to lean on from time to time; his body and his spirit so broken that he’d required assistance with even the most basic and simplest of everyday living skills. Esme stepping up to the plate and never once complaining about the energy it depleted her of or the time it took out of her own schedule; never making him feel as if he were a burden. Accompanying -and chauffeuring, as both his physical limitations and pain medications made it impossible for him to function to that extent- him to doctors visits and physiotherapy sessions and counselling appointments with addiction specialists. Always wanting her right there with him even when the most difficult of subjects were broached or intense physical exercises caused excruciating pain. Her quiet presence and all of the patience and resilience inhabiting that tiny body both a source of strength and a tremendous comfort. Accompanied by the tender touch of her hands as they massaged his shoulders or rubbed his back or her fingertips cleared wayward strands of hair from his forehead and out of his eyes. Voice soft and soothing even during the moments where frustration and pain had him raging; a palm on the back of his neck and her nose pressed against his temple as she encouraged him to ‘just breathe’ and reminded him of how far he’d already come and how he was proving all of the doctors and the naysayers wrong.

Six years later she’d find herself back in that situation again; his babies growing and thriving inside her as she once more took on the role of his caretaker. Having to lend assistance with even the mundane things most people take for granted; helping him to the bathroom when the pain was too intense to make it even when the aid of crutches or a walker, keeping a well organized and attentively followed medication schedule, feeding him when the tremors in his hands -a side effect of the meds- made it impossible for him to even hold a fork or spoon. Giving him showers or sponge baths or washing his hair in the kitchen sink and trimming both his hair and his beard. And she’d willingly learned more intensive care as well; wound irrigation and cleaning and how to switch out the IV and medication bags when an infection in the lower back had forced him onto powerful antibiotics. She’d been overwhelmed and exhausted but had never shown it; never losing her patience or her temper with him and never reacting when his own -triggered by pain and frustration and vulnerability- kicked off.

Months of her constant presence, reassurance and steadfast care had opened his eyes to who his wife TRULY is; an incredibly strong and resilient woman that has been through hell and back -a number of times- but never lets the situation break her. Always positive and upbeat; gracing him with smiles or ruffles of his hair or kisses to his cheek and words of praise and encouragement. It had given him a new appreciation and respect for her; how easy she made it look while caring for him and keeping a home running and taking care of his children. Even now he remains in awe of her; the amount of determination and love that can exist in someone so small. And if it taught them both anything, it’s that they truly ARE a team; relying on one another in many different ways. What could have destroyed other couples only served to make them stronger. That foundation built upon a unique and powerful bond and formed through a complicated and dangerous situation never crumbling; holding them up with everything around them seemed to want to break them down. Everything became more solid; their marriage, their roles are parents, their friendship. And they’ve discovered they loved each other even more than they ever realized; a love so complete and whole and all consuming.

Now it’s his turn; shove all of his issues and his demons and monsters aside to take care of her. It’s the one thing he’s always been both good at, and consistent with; shelving all of his problems in order to focus on hers. It’s two fold. A chance to show her just how loved and appreciated and adored she actually is; a way of proving just how grateful he is for everything she’s done -for him AND their family- throughout the past twelve and a half years. And it keeps both his body and his mind busy; making her his number priority an effective way to battle back against his demons. But He realizes he can’t do it alone; the old adage of ‘it takes a village’ proving true. Seven kids in the house means a lot of noise and a lot of activity. Not the ideal setting and atmosphere for someone that is both mentally AND physically exhausted.

While Desi had been the obvious choice on who to seek out, it had taken Tyler nearly a half an hour to convince himself to make the call; feeling guilty for yet again turning to their neighbour to lend a hand. It’s primarily an ego issue; feeling like ‘less of a man’ for not only needing help, but outwardly admitting it and lowering his guard enough to ask for it. Esme would blame it on the toxic masculinity that still lingers deep inside; the ghost of his father telling him he should be dealing everything on his own and that not being able to is a sign of both cowardice and weakness. It remains a struggle at times; breaking away from that train of thought and reminding himself that everything his old man had taught him -or attempted to- had been unhealthy and toxic and nothing but complete bullshit. And Desi is like family; always stepping up when either of them have needed him. A loyal confidant and steadfast supporter, he’d easily and effortlessly blended with large broods; enjoying the time spent under their crazy and chaotic roof and giving the kids the kind of uncle they deserve. And while it normally takes Tyler months or even years to trust someone when it comes to his personal life and the safety and the well being of his family, with Desi it has come fairly easily. That laid back and enormously generous personality and the gentle and compassionate way he treats Esme and the kids had triggered Tyler’s instincts. Letting him know that the man was trustworthy and reliable and in no way a threat.

“Anytime,” Desi says, as he finishes with the laces on Takota’s boots and turns to help Brooklyn, allowing her to attempt the tying and only stepping in which she gets frustrated and gives up. “You know I’m here for you guys. Always.”

Tyler slips a purple and pink knitted beanie onto Addie’s head. “Seem to rely on you an awful lot.”

“It’s what friends do, right? Help each other out when they need it. They step up. Lend a hand. No one can go through life alone. No one.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to tell me that thirteen years ago. I was pretty sure that’s how I’d live out the rest of my life. And die.”

“Were you happy though? Living like that? All by your lonesome? Out there in the middle of nowhere?”

“I had company.”

“A dog and a chicken are NOT company,” Desi informs him. “Not by a long shot.”

“Dogs are man’s best friend, aren’t they? And it was a pretty smart chicken.”

“You can’t tell me you were happy like that. Living way out there, alone, no one to talk to. No one is happy living like that.”

“In all fairness, ninety percent of the time I was too out of it to be carrying on conversations.”

It feels like a lifetime ago; that rundown shack in the middle of the outback, surrounded by nothing but the sparse trees and dry earth and looming mountain ranges. It had seemed like the perfect place to let his wounds fester and his addictions take hold; no one trying to dictate what he could and couldn’t do, no attempts at trying to talk him into rehab or counselling, far enough out that not even Koen or Rata made it a habit of stopping by unannounced. Out there he’d been surrounded by nothing but emptiness; a perfect match for the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been. A punishment of sorts. Nothing but the mistakes of the past and his overwhelming grief and guilt to keep him warm at night. Out there he could let the demons run rampant; drinking himself into oblivion and abusing Oxy at an alarming rate. His last coherent thought before passing out would always be the same; that the substances he’d put in his body would be enough to ensure he didn’t wake up the next day. But he always did; usually coming to in the middle of the warped and dusty floor or sitting at the kitchen table. Surrounded by empty bottles of booze and tipped over vials of pills and crippled by a brutal hangover; the headache and nausea and the dizziness so intense he’d have to crawl to the bathroom.

When it became apparent that the mix of alcohol and painkillers weren’t enough to do the trick, he began taking the most risky and dangerous jobs possible. By that time, he was fully engrossed in his death wish; too chicken to pull the trigger himself so instead relying on someone else to do it for him. Every time he went out, he’d all but pleaded to a higher power that it would be his last. Resorting to begging and pleading with whatever -or whoever- was watching his ass to take break; take their eyes off him or shirk their duties long enough for him to catch a bullet to the head. Yet it never happened. No matter how many times he’d spun that barrel and taken the risk, he always lived to see another day. Which in turn had only made his desperation even more intense; feeding into that grief and the sorrow that threatened to drown him yet never took him right under. That day on the cliff when he’d plunged into the water below, there’d been nothing stopping him from giving up; the weight of his regret and self loathing enough to keep him below the surface and allow his air to slowly run out. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d been ready to die for a long time.

Yet something had told him to keep going. A little voice hanging onto a thread of hope; louder than those attempting to destroy him. And when he’d pulled himself out of the water, he’d found he suddenly felt lighter; as if some of the burdens and past mistakes had temporarily lifted and been replaced by the first shred of contentment he’d experienced in a hell of a long time. Less than forty minutes later, he’d be watching Esme as she climbed up onto his porch. Studying her as she crouched down and showered his dog with attention. Finding himself both curious and intrigued about the unknown, tattooed and pierced dark haired beauty that had suddenly shown up in his life.

“You gotta admit, that kind of existence IS lonely,” Desi says, as he opens the front door and motions for the three littles to step through. “All alone? Out in a place like THAT? I’ve been there, remember. I’ve seen what it’s like. It’s desolate and it’s isolating and…”

“And it’s what I wanted at the time.’

Desi cocks an eyebrow, then steps out onto the front porch. “What you wanted? Or what you thought you deserved?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth, and he stands on the threshold with a palm flat against the door, effectively holding it open. “What seemed right at the time.”

“Were you? Lonely?”

“Never gave it much thought, to be honest. But in all fairness, most of my days were spent drunk and high off my ass, so…”

“You never once wished that you had someone around? Someone to talk to? Spend time with? Get...you know...PERSONAL with.”

“If I wanted that, I could get it. Easily. There was no shortage of that, believe me.”

“You never wanted more than that? I mean, there’s more to life than THAT. What about bonding with someone? Yeah, sex is great, but what about everything else? Companionship. Friendship. Someone to come home to at the end of the day or however long you were gone for some times. Someone that’s just...THERE...you know?”

“I was a fucking mess. Way worse than you could even begin to imagine. Why would I bring someone into that? Why would I do that to someone? Ruin their life like that? They get with me, everything’s great for a while, then they discover just how messed up I am and take off. What would be the point? Bringing someone into that? That’s just wasting their time.”

“Was it about them or you? Not wanting to get involved with someone.”

Arching an eyebrow, Tyler leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Seems like maybe you were using all that as excuses. To protect yourself. That maybe you were scared to get too attached. Just in case they DID decide it was too much and run off.”

A slow grin tugs at his lips. “ You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Esme. You’re getting into the psychoanalyzing business too, huh?”

“I’m just saying that maybe it ran deeper than worrying about other peoples’ feelings. Maybe you were worried about your own too.”

“I was dead inside, Des. I wasn’t feeling a damn thing.”

“Except for shame and guilt and regret. And a whole hell of a lot of self loathing.”

“You really ARE spending too much with my wife.”

“I just think it makes sense. You protecting yourself too. But not willing to admit it. At least not out loud. Wouldn’t it have been worth giving it a shot? Finding someone? Seeing if they could put up with everything?”

“I was an alcoholic mercenary with a drug addiction and a death wish. Who would put up with that?”

“Esme, for one.”

“Esme is an entirely different breed all her own. I highly doubt there’s many out there like her. That would willingly hook up with a fucking train wreck and put up with everything I’ve put her through. That I KEEP putting her through.”

“You know, you’re not as bad as you think you are. Do you have some issues? Yeah. But shit, we all do. We’re all a mess. In one way or another. You might be a little messier than most, but…”

“A little? That’s being awfully nice about it.”

“Look, she sticks around, doesn’t she? She’s still here. Twelve and half years later. You really think if things were THAT bad she wouldn’t have hauled ass a long time ago? Didn’t y’all split up for a while?”

“Six months,” Tyler confirms.

“And yet you got back together. She wanted things to work out. Not like she kicked your ass to the curb and hooked up with some other guy. You guys fixed your shit, made things better. She wouldn’t have taken you back if you were that bad. She wouldn’t have put herself or the kids through that.”

“Still a lot for one person to deal with. We’ve been through a lot shit. Way too much, actually.”

“Shit that would have broken weaker people,” Desi points out. “Both of you...separately... are strong as hell. But the two of you together? That’s a force to be reckoned with. And maybe she is a different breed of woman. Maybe it was the way she was raised that made her the way she is. Or the way she WASN’T raised. But let me tell you, she is a tough little thing. Feisty as all hell.”

“Totally a study in contradiction. You see that little body and that cute face and you think she’s all innocent and sweet and the next thing you know…”

“You’re married to her and seven kids?” Desi grins.

“I was going to say the next thing you know, she’s telling you where to go and how to get there and putting you in your place. Totally not what I expected, that’s for sure. Woman that size to be such a challenge. And so fucking bossy. If you heard half the shit that comes out of her mouth…”

“She keeps you on your toes. Challenges you. She’s definitely no push over. Which leads right back to my point. If you were as bad as you think you are, do you really think a woman like her would stick around? Hell no. She’d tell you off and pack her shit and take off. There’s no if’s, end’s, or butt’s about that. You brought that much shit and pain into her life? Things would have never gotten this far.”

“You know, you make a little TOO much sense.”

“I just tell ‘em like I see ‘em. You’re not the massive prick you think you are. Maybe a little bit of one…”

Tyler smirks.

“She showed up right when she was supposed to. That day at your place. Think of all the things in both your pasts that had to go wrong for you two to cross paths. If even just one of things went right, you probably never would have laid eyes on her. And that would have been a damn shame.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, considering his friend’s words. “It would have been.”

“The right woman came along at the right time. If your heart and your head didn’t think so, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You wouldn’t have the life you do. Hell, you probably wouldn’t have a life at all.”

“I’d be dead. If Esme hadn’t come along. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Daddy!” Addie clomps up the front walk and climbs the porch stairs; abandoning the task of helping her siblings build a messy fort of wet snow. And she wraps both arms around one of his thighs and leans her slight, tiny body into him. “Do we REALLY have to go out?”

“It’s just for a few hours.” He scoops her up into his arms and settles her on his hip. “ Go get some lunch, go see a movie, stop at the candy store. Doesn’t that sound like fun? A day out with Des? You always love your days out with Des.”

“It does sound like fun and I DO love going out with Desi, but…” she curls both arms around his neck and nestles her face against the side of his throat. “...I want to stay with you and mummy. She was gone this morning. And it scared me. That she wasn’t here to do our thing.”

“Well tomorrow you can do your thing. Sometimes OTHER things come up. Can’t help that.”

“And I only got to spend a little bit of time with her because she’s been sleeping a LONG time!”

“She’s only been sleeping an hour. Didn’t you spend some time with her? Didn't you take a bath with her? In the big tub?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I need you to cooperate, okay? Mummy needs some rest. And she can’t really get that with all you guys in the house. Right now, she needs to sleep and when she wakes up, I need to be able to take care of her. And if I’ve got all you guys to take care of, I can’t really do that, can I?”

“Is she sick?”

“She’s a little under the weather.”

“Like a cough due to cold?”

“Nothing like that. She’s just feeling a little rundown. Nothing some quiet time won’t help. So you think you can do me a solid? Go out with a Desi for a bit?”

Addie sighs heavily. “I guess…”

“We’ll have a great time,” Desi promises. “We always do. Mommy and daddy need some time alone. It happens. They’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

Addie reaches for him; allowing herself to pass from one set of arms to another. “Like making a baby?”

“No one is making any babies,” Tyler informs. “Not in this house anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because our days of making babies are long gone. The shop is closed. All done. That’s it.”

“One more wouldn’t be so bad,” Addie reasons. “Another sister.”

“One more WOULD be bad. And a shock because neither mummy or I can have more babies. Now…” laying a hand on the back of her head, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “....be good. I don’t want any bad reports when Desi gets back.”

“Why you telling me? I’m always good.”

Tyler stares pointedly at his daughter.

“Well, ALMOST always.”

“Remember what I said. No taking off. You stay with Desi. Or with TJ. Got it?”

Addie gives a thumbs up. “Got it!”

“Have fun. And don’t worry about mummy. She’s fine, I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“You better,” the five year old warns. “‘Cause that’s my mummy and if anything happens to her…”

“Your mummy is in good hands,” Tyler promises. “Daddy knows what he's doing. I’m not some rookie, you know.”

“You be nice to mummy,” Addie orders. “No arguing and no making her cry and no making fun of how tiny she is.”

“You’re kidding me, right? That’s my go to. Making fun of her height.”

“Speaking as a short person, it’s NOT funny. At all.”

“I wonder how funny it will be when I DO pick you and your mum up and put you in my pockets.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Addie’s eyes narrow as she glares at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” He pecks her pouted lips. “You and your mumma both know everything I say, I say because I love you guys. Can I help it that you’re both so tiny and cute?”

“Can we help it that you’re so big and have humongous feet and ears?” Addie counters.

“Ouch,” Desi chuckles. “Savage.”

“She gets that from her mumma. Little, but so full of rage.” He digs his fingers into his daughter’s side, tickling her until the pout turns into a smile and she begins to giggle. “Do I need to remind you that you got my ears? And my feet? You all do.”

“Poor us,” Addie quips, and then squeals and giggles even louder when he brushes his beard against her cheeks.

“I love you,” he says, and presses a kiss to the freckled bridge of his daughter's nose. “Be good, okay? I’m counting on you here.”

“I got this!” She flashes two thumbs up over Desi’s shoulder as he carries her down the stairs. “See you later, alligator!”

“In a while crocodile,” Tyler responds.

“Blow a kiss, goldfish!”

“Bye-bye butterfly.”

“Toodle-loo kangaroo!”

Tyler shoots her a wink and then steps out onto the front porch. Hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie as he watches Desi herd the noisy and excited and noisy bunch out the front gate and then down the slush covered sidewalk. Waiting until they disappear around the corner before heading back into the house.

*****

The shower feels damn good. Hot enough to sting and to cause a new layer of perspiration to form on his skin; gathering at his temples and along his hairline and above his upper lip. The latter he swipes away with the tip of his tongue and then places his palms flat against the tile; chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed as the water beats down on his weary body. Physically speaking, he feels great; very little pain or tightness across the small of his back, a dull yet manageable ache in his repaired shoulder, the swelling of his right knee not as not as prominent as it usually is. The latter surprises him. He’d pushed himself extremely hard during his run that morning, greatly exceeding anything he’d ever put himself on the treadmill and far beyond the limits the specialists had put on him after his second surgery. And while he knows he shouldn’t ‘test the waters’ and there’s a legitimate risk of ligament tears and dislocations, he’s never been one to play by the rules. Refusing to let anyone confine him to what’s conventionally acceptable; always wanting to prove not only the naysayers wrong, but his own mind and body. An injury he can deal with; another operation and the recovery afterwards a lot easier to bear then the damage to the ego. His physicality has always been of major importance; strength, size, speed, stamina. And he’s had a hell of a time getting back to even seventy percent of where he’d been five years ago. When Nathan had managed to get the jump on him and achieved what no other foe had ever managed: breaking his body and mind.

He refuses to dwell on it. Nothing he can do will ever erase or lessen what happened; his body forever damaged and his entire lifestyle permanently altered. Physical injuries, mental health issues, the constant toeing of the line between addiction and sobriety. And he knows things could be a lot worse; dying that day on the bridge in Dhaka and never getting his second chance. He’d been given an incredible opportunity; an absolution for the mistakes of the past and a whole new life and a bright and content future. But it hasn’t been without its own share of pain and sacrifice and suffering; every blessing coming at an exceptional cost. Ones he’d happily paid and would do so again; willingly putting his own body and sanity on the line if it means keeping his family safe and sound.

A half an hour passes; hot water tank nearly drained when he finally steps out of the shower. Body still damp when he heads into the bedroom; a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and another being used to vigorously dry his hair. Slivers of light manage to trickle through the gap in the room darkening curtains, and he uses it to his advantage; quietly navigating the spacious master suite. She’s been asleep for more than an hour now; on his side of the bed with the heavy comforter pulled up to her chin and her cheek nestled into his pillow. Normally she would have argued with him; pointing out the list of things that -in her always busy mind- needed to be done before her sister’s arrival. But her ‘meltdown’ earlier had left her emotionally exhausted and she hadn’t kicked up even the slightest bit of fuss when he suggested she take time for herself; a long soak in the tub, her favourite ‘comfort’ clothes, a well deserved nap.

It’s been twelve and a half years of sacrifice and compromise on her part; giving up her old life in favour of a new one with him, adjusting to life in a new country only to have it torn apart and be forced back home, reluctantly agreeing to his return to the job and the worry and the stress that came with it. Five pregnancies that resulted in seven amazing and beautiful children; her physical and mental health paying a steep price each time, yet never denying him the desire for a big family. And the times she’s seen him near death. Horrendous injuries inflicted upon him; those long days and nights by his side in various hospitals and eventually the arduous and painful roads to recovery. Yet she’s done it without complaint; throwing herself into caring for him and their family and consistently putting her own well being on the back burner.

Lowering himself cautiously onto the end of the bed, he once more scrubs at his hair and then tosses the towel in the direction of the laundry hamper; sighing when it misses its mark and falls heavily to the floor. While mentally weary, his body feels great; relieved to be relatively pain free and filled with an uncharacteristic optimism. The silver lining within a very dark and immense cloud. A welcome boost of confidence he hasn’t experienced in years; brave enough to consider that maybe...just maybe...the worst is now behind him. And as he studies his reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, for once he’s not finding all the faults. No anger or disgust when his fingers lightly travel over the myriad of scars that inhabit his face, no thoughts of how battered and worn down he appears. Instead he notices that his eyes seem brighter; not as haunted and empty as they’ve been since his return from Cambodia. His face has filled out; the slight weight gain making the lines that accompany aging -and a hard life lived on the edge- not seem as prominent. His chest and arms are bigger; the slightest of flexes stretching the tattoos that decorate the insides of both biceps and shoulders. The positivity is surprising; years spent living in a state of self loathing and speaking self deprecating words long ago taking their toll and reducing him to a man that didn’t give a shit about his personal appearance. As long as he maintained his strength and his quickness and his skills, that had been all that mattered; not giving a second thought to his choice of attire or the thickness of his beard or the unruliness of his hair.

He’s still not what would be considered high maintenance; the opposite of a Desi who spends more time getting ready than the average female and has closets full of insanely expensive high end clothing. Still the most comfortable in bare feet and board shorts; jeans and a simple t-shirt considered ‘dressing up’ in his world. It’s an effortless existence; relaxed and content and low key. And it’s one the entire family -aside from a very ‘girly’ Addie- has adopted. Happy and secure; tucked away at the end of that dead end street and surrounded by nature and the smells and the sounds of the ocean. Their own slice of paradise; hard work, resilience, and a hell of a lot of money turning what had once been a modest residence into their dream home. It will be their ‘happily after after’; the place where they’ll raise their children, spoil their grandkids, and grow old and grey together. And for once, he’s confident that will happen. That they’ll get those moments Esme often speaks wistfully about. When their home is empty and it’s just the two of them; quiet breakfasts on the back deck and dinners down by the water. When there’s more grey in their hair and wrinkles on their faces, yet they still walk along the beach hand in hand or with their arms wrapped around each other; indulging in their bantering and their teasing and stopping to steal kisses in the surf.

And still giving her piggy back rides back to the house.

He feels the mattress shift slightly, and he watches her reflection through the mirror as she adjusts her position in bed. Rolling over onto her back and stretching languorously; a long, content sigh escaping her lips and the heels of her palms pressing into her eyes. When she props herself onto her elbows and looks at him, her hair is disheveled and her eyes are slightly narrowed; a pout of confusion and disorientation capturing her lips.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

The pout transforms into a frown. “In the afternoon?”

“No. Morning.”

“Smart ass,” she grumbles, and then flops down onto her back. A foot kicks off the heavy comforter in favour of coming in contact with his back; toes slowly brushing along the top edge of the towel. “What are you doing?”

“I was in the shower. Didn’t get a chance to do it when I got home from my run. With everything that happened and you leaving and having to take care of the kids....” his voice trails off. It’s the last thing he wants to revisit. His panic attack in the kitchen, the way his oldest son had sensed the urgency and the stress and stepped up to the plate to care for his little sister, the worry that his wife either wouldn’t return or would walk through the door and tell him that it was over. That he was just too much for her to bear; a heavy and troublesome burden weighing her down.

“Why’s it so quiet?” she asks, and he’s thankful for the change in conversation. “What happened? Did they get a little too feral? Get on your last nerve so you tranquilized all of them?”

“I sold them all. On the black market.”

“I hope you got a good price for them,” she chides, and trails the tip of her big toe along his spine. “I put a lot of work into those kids. Not to mention what my body went through. I think that’s worth a good penny, don’t you? Doesn’t it deserve compensation? My body going to absolute shit?”

“Your body is amazing. It was incredible when we met, and it’s even more incredible now.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. My ass is bigger. My hips are wider.”

“You’ve had babies. MY babies.”

“Yeah, I have,” she smiles, and once more props herself up on her elbows. “Only guy in the universe I’d ever give that many spawn too.”

He grins at her through the mirror. “I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” she playfully retorts. “You’re naked under that towel, aren’t you.”

“Well considering I just got out of the shower and I don’t wear board shorts or underwear when I’m in there…”

“Honey, as incredible as your body is and I could lie here all day admiring it, I’m going to need you to put some clothes on. It’s far too tempting to engage in X rated activity when you’re naked. Or next to naked.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. X rated activities. With me.”

“Normally it’s not. But I think I’m PMSing.” That dramatic, adorable pout again. “ I’ve got wicked cramps and I’m feeling bloated as fuck and you know my hesitancy on having sex when all of that is going on. I know it doesn’t faze you and as much as orgasms DO help, it’s just not my jam.”

“Say no more.” Sighing, he gets to his feet; grateful that the normally bone deep pain that resides in his right knee has settled into nothing more than a dull, manageable ache. And he grabs a pair of discarded jeans slung over the back of the chair by the balcony door; releasing the towel from around his waist and tossing it in the direction of the laundry hamper.

“Now that’s just evil,” Esme declares. “You are a bad, bad, BAD man.”

He smirks at her through the mirror. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know exactly what you’re doing. Just dropping the towel like that. That’s so, so, SO mean.”

“Gotta give you something to stare at, yeah?”

“I prefer to call it admiring. And I have done a lot of admiring over the last twelve and half years. You never disappoint, husband.”

“I aim to please.”

“And do you ever hit your mark. Each and every time.”

Grinning, he tugs the jeans up over his hips and ass and tends to the button and zipper; pushing a hand through his damp hair as he approaches the side of the bed. “Move.”

“I like this spot. It’s YOUR spot. It’s got all your grooves in it. It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, but it’s MY spot. And you know how anal I am about my spot. So haul ass. Please.”

“Grump face,” she mutters, but wriggles her way backward across the bed; rolling onto her hip as he joins her; sliding under the comforter and laying on his side facing her.

“Come here…” Reaching out, he curls an arm around her petite frame and pulls her into him. Hand resting in the middle of her back as his other arm slips under her shoulder; thigh wedging between her legs.. “...I’ll make you feel better, baby. In a non X rated way.”

“You’re so selfless.” She presses her body against his; a hand pushing through his hair and her head tucking under his chin. Eyes closing and a long, content sigh escaping her as she breathes in his familiar scent. Clean and crisp; notes of sandalwood and citrus. “So generous. Where ARE the kids?”

“Desi took them out. Lunch and a movie. Candy bar afterwards.”

“He just offered or....?”

“I called him. Told him you were having a rough day. That I needed some time and some space and some quiet. To take care of my girl.”

A smile plays on her lips as she pulls back to look at him. “Your girl, huh?”

“That’s what you are, aren’t ya? Or would I rather I call you my old lady?”

“I would definitely NOT rather that. I like it; being called your girl. It’s cute. I like the sound of it.”

He presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. Palm sliding up her back, across her shoulder and then gently cupping the side of her face ; thumb repeatedly brushing against the top of her cheek.

She likes these moments with him. Quiet and content; bodies pressed together in a pure and innocent form of intimacy. The way his gaze never wavers ; as if he's intently studying every inch of her features and committing them to memory. Love and adoration written as plain as day upon his face; the softness of his expression, the gentle touch of a callused palm and fingertips, the tender smile that plays on his lips. A beautiful man with a not so beautiful past. A childhood filled with torment and abuse and anguish and tremendous loss, followed by years of substance abuse and a life lived on the edge; hounded by immense grief and guilt and regret and anxious for death to claim him. It’s no surprise that he has the issues he does; no one can go through a lifetime of trauma and come out of it unscathed. But it’s a shock he isn’t worse than he is. Still filled with so much strength; resilient and brave and never backing down from even the biggest of challenges. Loving and compassionate and sensitive. A striking juxtaposition considering his choice of career. A hardened and highly skilled mercenary that kills as a means to an end, not because he enjoys it.

“So you actually CALLED Desi?” she inquires. “For help? That’s a little...out of character.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Your sister won’t be here until later and I wasn’t waiting that long. So I got a hold of him and asked him to do me a favour. If he could take the kids so I could concentrate on you. That’s kind of hard to do when there’s seven plus one under the same roof.”

“That’s HUGE for you. You didn’t just acknowledge and admit you needed help, you actually ACTED on it.”

“What’s so huge about that? I’ve asked for help before.”

“You’ve asked ME for help before. Never someone else. That’s not you, Tyler. You’d rather wear yourself thin or completely burn yourself out than rely on other people.”

“It’s one of my issues,” he admits. “For many reasons. But you know how I always say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”

Esme nods.

“That includes swallowing my pride and asking for help.”

“You doing THAT? THAT’S love right there. And probably some lust, too.”

“There’s a little bit of that in there too,” he teases, and then places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. Their eyes closing when the tip of his nose comes to rest against her forehead; hand slipping from her cheek and finding the back of her neck, fingers gently and deftly massaging the tense muscles.

For several minutes neither of them speak; basking in the silence and the warmth that radiates from one another's bodies; his slow, even breaths ruffling her hair, hers tickling his bare neck. These moments are rare; the chaos of raising seven children and their respective work schedules and responsibilities. Both are looking forward to her being home more. The opportunity to actually be alone; walks on the beach or time in the water, hikes in the woods or strolls through town. And the road trips. Needing nothing more than gas in the tank and money in their pockets.

*****

“Feeling any better?” Tyler asks, and slips his hand up into her hair; fingertips gently kneading the scalp.

“A little. Have a headache though. Not sure if it’s PMS or my moods or my meltdown earlier. But it’s a bitch. A mean, old bitch.”

He pulls away. Hand moving to the top of her head and fingers pressing on her well known problem areas; along the tops of both brows, the inside corners of her eyes, the bridge of her nose. Attempting to alleviate at least some of the pain and pressure. “Good?” he asks, when she reaches up to push her fingers through his; drawing their joined hands down to her lips and pressing a kiss to the side of his wrist.

She nods, a smile curving her lips. “Good. You and your magic fingers. They certainly know their stuff. In many ways.”

“They have a talent all of their own.”

“They certainly do. MANY talents, actually. Are YOU feeling better?”

“Not bad. My body feels pretty good. Thought maybe I’d be in agony after my run, but…”

“You pushed yourself, didn’t you. HARD. Harder than you’re supposed to.”

“Come on now. Would I actually do something like that? Not listen to the doctor’s orders?”

“You most certainly would. And you definitely have. Be careful, Tyler. Don’t push the limits too much, okay? I realize you know your own body, but you don’t always listen to it. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Screwing something up and needing surgery. AGAIN.”

“I won’t go too hard,” he promises, and pecks her lips. “But right now? I’m taking care of YOU. Not the other way around. You’ve spent a lot of time looking after me. Worrying about me. Probably too much.”

“It’s not like it’s a job or something like that. You’re my husband. I love you. That’s why I do it.”

“And I love you. Which is why I need to step up and take care of you. Don’t be so stubborn, Me. Let me look after you. We’re a team, yeah? We’re supposed to be in this together? Let me pick up some of the slack.”

“It’s a bad habit of mine. Doing everything myself. I mean, in high school I was the one that got saddled with all the work during group projects. My classmates would fuck around and I’d be stuck having to do it all by my lonesome.”

“Well you don’t have to do this by your lonesome. It’s a two way street, right? You and me against the world?”

Nodding, she presses a kiss to his chin, then his lips. “You’re a good husband. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I kinda like it here.”

Smiling, she lays a hand on the side of his face. Her fingers press through his beard; nails lightly scraping along his jaw. “Do you think we could talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing? You already said no naked time, so…”

“I mean a serious talk. Piggybacking off what happened this morning. More specifically, what happened with ME this morning. And WHY it happened.”

“I thought we already talked about it. When you got back. Didn’t realize there was anything more to say. You’re going through some shit. Depression. Probably PTSD. You got a lot of stress. And probably most of that can be blamed on me.”

“I’m not blaming anything on you. I never have. I never will. My brain was screwed up way before you ever came along.”

“I’m sure I made it worse. I’ve put you through a lot of crap. Twelve and a half years of it.”

“We are not doing this. YOU are not doing this. That’s all water under the bridge, Tyler. Things we went through and dealt with. It’s behind us. Can we leave it there? Can YOU? Because it’s not doing you any good; holding onto so much guilt and regret. I don’t want you doing that. That’s the last thing I want, actually.”

“It’s kind of hard NOT to do it. To think back on it all and not see how badly i’ve fucked up.”

“It was all beyond your control. Things went bad. That’s all there is to really say about it. Things went to shit and you reacted badly to them and you made some pretty crappy judgement calls. But we got past all of that. I don’t hold grudges against you. I don’t hate you. Or blame you for anything. It’s time you stop blaming yourself, okay?”

“You know me. I’m willing to try anything once. Except for maybe eating ass. That’s a little too far out of my comfort zone.”

“Well lucky for you, it’s WAY out of mine. But can we? Have a serious talk? Without it turning into a fight? I don’t want to fight with you. We’ve come a long way since those days; everything turning into a big blow out.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, either. But if it’s something THAT serious…”

“I mean, it’s serious but not THAT serious. It’s not life or death or anything. It’s just...I don’t know…” her fingers nervously fidget with the chain around his neck. “...it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Is it about us? Are we having problems I’m not aware of? Is there someone else?”

“No! Oh my god, no. Nothing like that. Other than dealing with our own mental stuff, we are fine. We are MORE than fine. And there isn’t anyone else. There never has been. And there never will be. You’re it for me. For the rest of my life. There’s no one else I want. I could EVER want.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her lips.

“It’s to do with me. What’s going on in my head. What HAS been going on in there. And I need you to promise that you won’t freak out. That you won’t hear the worst of it and shut down and lose your temper and…”

He frowns. “Esme…”

“Tyler, I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And right now, I need you to promise me that you won’t lose it. That you’ll just listen and let everything sink in. Not just hear a bit and react. Can you do that? Promise me?”

He nods. “I won’t lose my shit. Promise. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you sick? Is there something wrong and you’ve been holding out on me?”

“I’m not sick,” she assures him. “Not physically anyway. It’s all to do with my brain. I’ve struggled for years. Long before I ever met you. And I’ve had some down moments; since we’ve been together. Especially after each of our babies. When postpartum was a real bitch to me. So it’s not like you don’t know what I deal with. In my head.”

“I’ve known for years. You told me pretty much right from the start. A couple days into Dhaka. About having depression. Being diagnosed after your dad died. And I’m pretty sure you’ve got PTSD too. After everything that went on in Bangladesh, ESPECIALLY on that bridge? You can’t say it would be a surprise. If you were diagnosed with it.”

“The furthest thing from a surprise. Now you promise? Not to freak out?”

“I already did. Can we get to it already? Because you stall any longer and my anxiety is going to go off the charts.”

Sighing, she curls a finger around his necklace and gently yanks him into a kiss. Lips lingering on his before finally pulling away. “I lied to you. About a year ago,”

“About…?”

“Do you remember when you were in Brazil? For a couple weeks? The whole drug cartel thing?”

He nods. “What about it?”

“Remember how when you came back, I mentioned a girls weekend. In Cairns. With Riley and Shaena. And how I was worried you’d be pissed because I wanted to go on it? Because you’d been gone for two weeks and me leaving meant we’d only have a couple days together?”

“Yeah, and I was fine with it. You needed a break. I didn’t have a problem with you going. What…?”

“There was never a girls weekend,” Esme admits, and his frown intensifies; deep furrows inhabiting his brow. “We made it up. So you wouldn’t know what was really going on.”

“Babe...what…?”

“I was in the hospital. For three days. And not just any hospital. A psychiatric one.”

“A psychiatric hospital? Why? What…?”

“When you were gone, I had a really bad time. I mean, I always do when you leave. I don’t sleep, I worry constantly, I stress over everything and even little stuff gets on my nerves and drags me down. But this was worse. WAY worse. And even though I knew you were okay and that you were coming home, I still had all that dread, you know? All that worry. Constantly wondering if maybe I’d never see you again. That maybe the last time you walked out the door really WAS the last time.”

“That was an easy job. I wasn’t even out in the field. I was strictly behind the scenes. I never even left the hotel. Not until I had to go get everyone out. I told you I’d stay behind and I did.”

“I know. But I still freaked out. I was still worried. I always worry about you, you know that. And one night it was really bad. I felt like I was losing it. I hadn’t heard from you that day and you didn’t return any of my voicemails or texts and…”

“We had problems with coms. I told you that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you. There were legit issues.”

“And I tried telling myself that. That there were issues. But it didn’t help. And I lost it. Badly. I’m pretty sure it was actually a mental breakdown. And I called Riley because I was freaking out and I couldn’t get control of myself. I thought I was going crazy. And I told her that I felt like I was going to hurt myself.”

He blinks at her confession. “What?”

“I don’t think I actually would have done it. I think I was just feeling desperate at that moment. I don’t think…”

“You wanted to kill yourself? You wanted to die?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I was looking for a way out. An escape. And my brain wasn’t exactly in a good place and that’s where it went. Like I said, I don’t think I would have actually done anything. But I called Riley and she came over and stayed with me and the kids. Just in case.”

“What if she hadn’t been around? What if she couldn’t have come over? What if she still lived in Colorado? Would you have done it? Hurt yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t THINK so? Esme…”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking right. I was in a really bad way, Tyler. REALLY bad. And I needed help. So I called her.”

“Why didn’t you call ME?”

“What would you have been able to do? You were in Brazil.”

“I would have come home. Right away. I would have dropped everything and had someone else be in charge. Do you really think I wouldn’t have? Come home? There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were so far away,” she attempts to reason. “And I needed help right away.”

“I would have talked you down. I would have gotten you through it. Why wouldn’t you get a hold of me? I’m your husband.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was just thinking in the moment. And getting ahold of you in Brazil wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind. It wasn’t personal. You should know that. That you’re the one person that’s always been able to help me. But you were thousands of miles away and you were busy and I didn’t want to put something else on you. Burden you.”

“Burden me? You’re my wife. You could never burden me. What the fuck, Esme? Why didn’t you at least tell me I got home? Why lie to me? Why make up this whole fucking story about a girls trip? Why…?”

“I didn’t want to put that on you. Especially when you had to stay with the kids. They needed you to be focused and all about them. And you wouldn’t have been able to do that if I told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t want me to worry? You’re my WIFE.”

“I was trying to protect you. I’m always trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Tyler argues. “I’m not a fucking child, Esme. I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need you coddling me and babying me and protecting me. I would have stepped up and took care of you. That should have been on me. Not your sister. Not Shaena. Not anyone else. Me.”

“I needed you to take care of the kids. You’d been gone for two weeks and they missed you and I didn’t want them to be without BOTH parents. It’s not personal. I didn’t make the decisions I did to hurt you. I made them to help you. To help our family.”

“How much help would it have been if I’d come home and you were dead on the floor? How much help would it have been if one of our kids had found you? Do you know how bad that would have fucked them up? Losing their mother like that? Do you know how bad it would have fucked ME up?”

“I wasn’t thinking of those things. I wasn’t thinking about anything. That’s the problem. All I wanted was an escape. That’s it.”

“An escape from what? Your shitty life with your shitty husband?”

“No!” She clasps his face in her hands. “I love my life. And my husband. You know what depression is like. It doesn’t care where you live or what you have or how many people love you. It’s all in your head. It’s a fucking monster you can’t escape from. You know EXACTLY what it’s like. I never meant…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...I never meant to hurt you. I would NEVER hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. And I know you say you don’t need me to. And maybe you don’t. But I do it because I love you. Because I want to make things easier on you. That’s all. It’s not to hurt you, Tyler.”

“You can’t try and convince me I’m not broken when you treat me like I am.”

She frantically grabs at the chain around his neck with one hand, his shoulder with the other. “That’s not what I was doing. You AREN’T broken. I don’t treat you like you are.”

“You are when you do shit like that. When you lie to me. Especially about something like this.”

“I’ve never lied to you. About anything. I’ve always been honest. About my childhood, about what Mark put me through, about…”

“What about the guy?”

“What guy? What…?”

“The one you went out with. When we were separated. Took you years to tell me about him.”

She frowns. “There was nothing to tell you. He was just some single dad I met at daycare pick up. That’s it. It was nothing important. Just some guy.”

“That you went out with. While we were still married.”

“Have you been just waiting to throw that in my face? Have you been holding onto that all this time? Just looking for the opportunity to hold that over my head? Why would you…?”

“I was faithful to you. Whether we were going to work shit or not. I wasn’t looking for someone else. I didn’t want another woman. And I could have had one. I could have had tons of them. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity, believe me.”

“Then why didn’t you do it? If you had so many chances. Why didn’t you take any of them?”

“Because I wanted my wife. I didn’t want anyone else. You, Just you.”

“And I wanted you! But you were a fucking mess and I was hurt because you weren’t fighting for me. For your family. So yeah, I went out on a date. Because someone showed interest in me and made me feel special and beautiful and wanted. Because I was hurt and I wanted you to hurt just as much as I was. I was so pissed at you. For not getting your shit together and coming home and fighting for us. So I went out on a date. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the attention."

“Did you fuck him?”

“No. I told you what happened. I told you he tried and I turned him down. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was still in love with my husband. That I was still hoping we could work things out. That’s the truth. And that’s how I got that black eye. Because he didn’t handle the rejection so well. That’s the truth. All of it. I never slept with him. I’ve ever been with anyone but you. For the last twelve and a half years. Just you.”

He nods slowly, letting her words sink in.

“Tyler…” her nails dig into the back of his neck. “...don’t do this...don’t shut me out. Please don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

“What do you want me to say? What…?”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to lie to you. I…” tears flow freely down her face. “...I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Come here,” he gently orders, and pushing a hand through her hair, settles it on her back and pulls her into him. “It’s okay, Me. Everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. Not about the guy and not about the girls weekend. I was just trying to protect you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you weren’t.” Pressing a kiss to her temple, he rolls over onto his back; both arms wrapping around her and pulling her with him. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have brought that shit up. I haven’t been holding onto it. Or waiting to use it again. I reacted. Badly. And when I do, nothing is off limits. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to say that shit.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and curls her arms around his neck. “I know how you get. When you hear things you don’t like. But for the record? This is what I meant when I made you promise not to lose it.”

“I am so fucking sorry. I’m an asshole. A huge asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You just have no chill sometimes. I’m used to it. Or fairly used to it, anyway.”

“I never should have said what I did. About the guy you went out with. You had every right to. Go on a date. I wasn’t exactly stepping up. I just lost it. Hearing about you wanting to hurt herself and how you spent time in psychiatric hospital. Kinda kicked me in the nuts, ya know?”

“I was going to tell you,” she says, chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him. “When I got home. But I was feeling so much better and you and the kids were so happy to see me. I didn’t want to ruin that. And then we got on with life and there never seemed to be a good time. So I kept it to myself. It wasn’t to intentionally hurt you., I’d NEVER do that.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“And I don’t mean to treat you like you’re broken. Because you’re not. A little bent, maybe…”

He manages a laugh. “I’ve been put through the ringer a few times. Got a little too many miles on me. Quite the collection of dents and scars going on.”

“They’re beautiful. Every single one of them.” Wriggling further up the bed, she pushes a hand through his hair; tightly gripping the longer locks as she pecks the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That I lied to you. I had good intentions. I really did.”

“You always do.” He curls an arm around her neck and kisses her. Long and soft and sweet; tasting the salty tears that linger across her top lip. “It’s okay, Me. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” He tangles his fingers in her hair, gently pushing her head back down onto his chest. “ Has it happened again? Feeling the way you did? Have you wanted to hurt yourself? Or worse?”

“No. I haven’t felt that way since. I’ve been depressed, but not like that.”

“And you’d tell me? If you did feel that way?”

She nods.

Sighing heavily, he places a forearm over his eyes. Lying in silence and feeling her body tremble against his; knuckles repeatedly ghosting along her spine as he attempts to get a grasp on the situation. Her mental health issues have never been a secret; she’s been on medication for years and has occasionally needed it to be tweaked. But to hear that she’d been THAT low? Considering hurting herself? Or even attempting something more permanent? It’s devastating. Feeding right into his worst fear. The thought of losing her to an event totally beyond his control. A wedge of emotion settles in his throat and tears prick his eyes; the realization of how close he’d come to losing. But he fights it off. Needing to stay strong for her. Always willing, ready, and able to put his own problems aside. Her rock and her protector.

“Tyler?” Her voice is impossibly tiny. Apprehensive. Scared.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you. So much. You’ll never know how much.”

Smiling, he slides his palm to the back of her neck and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too.”

[simplemoonk]

Nightmares and Labors Ch 2

Read Chapter 1 and also read it on Ao3

Summary:  In which Mike broke his arm and had to stay back in the headquarters with a very pregnant Mikasa Ackerman.

Rivamika Fic

AOT belongs to Hajime Isayama of course. 

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Levi’s swords cut through Eren’s titan form from the nape, careful not to hurt the boy inside. He got used to doing this by now. As soon as the boy was freed from the titan Armin pulled him out immediately. 

They landed on the ground as the titan body began evaporating. It was nothing but a crust now. Levi’s eyes surveyed the area, focusing on Erwin for a second who was listening to the report of the mission. Hange was running around with Moblit trying to get the other man to draw things she found interesting and wanted to collect as data. Their mission was ended a while ago as Levi cut the last titan’s nape on the area. Unfortunately, they had causalities but it was relatively few even though they still had lots of soldiers with injuries. He noticed Erwin walking towards him. 

“Levi! Your squad is alright?”

“They are alive.” He said indifferently yet still there was a crippling tone of relief in his voice for the ones that listened closely. Erwin did not seem phased. 

“Good. Gather them, we are living in ten minutes.” 

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Indeed, ten minutes later they were on their horses riding toward the safe protection of the Wall Rose. Eren was going on the cart, unconscious and exhausted due to the amount of effort he had to put in this mission. There was another cart following them behind, carrying the two dead soldiers they had lost that day. 

They came in contact with three titans on their way back, in which one of them happened to be abnormal. He saw Nanaba and her team took down the two of them as he handled the abnormal – much to Hange’s distaste and continuing whining. 

Near to the gates, they saw the elevators started descended down to pull the soldiers, and their horses, back into the walls since the gate was long closed by the giant bolder Eren had placed years ago. Levi heard the bell ringed to announce the return of the Survey Corps. That’s the part he used to hate the most since the crowd gathered near the gates gave them nothing but condemnation. Nowadays, however, it only meant that he was seconds away from seeing his wife, he could easily take a little reprimand in return.

Today the crowd was surprisingly quiet and calm as they walked past them. Maybe because they also knew that two causalities could be count as a victory when it came to the Survey Corps statistics. A sad reality but the reality nevertheless. His eyes wandered around the crowd quickly, trying to catch a glimpse of his wife since she wouldn’t listen what he got to say for her to not come to greet him, and their squad and waited for them in the HQ instead. It seemed like today was a day for many firsts as she seemed to listen to him and didn’t come. He couldn’t help but feel the anticipation of seeing her bubbled in his stomach even though they were married for two years at this stage. 

He chose to stay close to Erwin as he broke the tragic news to the lost soldiers’ families, the whole corps waiting behind them, showing their supports and sympathies to the parents as well as paying their respects to the fallen soldiers. They arrived at the headquarters quickly after that, each feeling drained as they always did whenever they returned back to the Walls, fewer in number every time. Erwin was walking ahead of him as they entered the gates of the HQ, talking to Hange quietly. Something in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. A soldier that he forgot the name of was running toward them in a frantic manner. He saluted Erwin and send a few quick glances toward Levi’s way which made him narrow his eyes in anticipation. 

“Commander Erwin! Sir!” he greeted and then returned to Levi.

“Captain Levi! Y-your wife is in labor!” he sputtered, face shining with sweat as if he was the one gone into labor.  

Levi was aware of the stares of Erwin and Hange, eyes wide and mouth gaping like it was the first time they heard Mikasa was pregnant and pregnant women supposed to give birth at some point. He could sense the eyes of his team burning to his back. They were all silent as each of them expected him to react as if waiting for him to set the tone of their own reactions. 

The problem wasn’t that Levi didn’t hear what the soldier had said since he had heard him perfectly fine. It was just that he was having a hard time grasping what those words meant. 

His horse neighed, feeling the tension filled the air, and that was the thing that broke the spell upon him. He threw the reins of his horse to Jean without losing any more time with trying to calm the startled animal and started making his way into the headquarters at a slightly quicker pace. From the outside he seemed like he always had, cool and collected yet on the inside he was absolutely running off the rails. He heard footsteps coming behind him yet his mind had other things to prioritize so the sounds gone unnoticed to him. The soldier that had brought the news pacing alongside, telling him that she was brought back to their quarters (they had decided for Mikasa to stay in the HQ while he was away in a case for things exactly like that might happened) since she was trying to get to the barracks when the labor had begun. 

“What the hell she was planning to do on the barracks?” the soldier just gave a pathetic shrug as an answer. 

“May I watch, Levi?” Hange’s excited voice came from behind. 

“No!” 

“For scientific reasons!” 

“My wife isn’t a science project shitty four-eyes!” 

“B- “ 

“Hange.” He heard Erwin’s warning voice next and that was the time he finally noticed the footsteps following him, and by the sound of it, there were more than those two trailing behind him. Great.

Even though he tried to convince himself that he was annoyed, he was actually feeling grateful to them, well at least to Hange and Erwin since his team was probably seconds away from causing a ruckus, for being with him while he was absolutely losing it inside. 

“NNNnnnnnngghhh!!” they heard the agitated-load moan as soon as they turned the corner of the corridor his quarters were in. Levi who was trying to keep the speed of his steps under control until that time dashed for the room, giving up on all his efforts to contain the little self-control he had left behind.

Never in his life, ever, he heard Mikasa made such a painful noise before. He reached the door of their room in no time, pushing the door open harshly, only to see that Mikasa who was laying on her back on the bed with a doctor between her legs and –

Mike? 

“NNNNaaAAaaa!!” Mike cried out again as Mikasa squeezed Mike’s hand so hard that he was sure it would break if his wife continued doing that. She wasn’t making any sound expect little pained moans she allowed to get out from her lips as she gritted her teeth together with enough force to almost breaking them. Mike, on the other hand, was screaming like a banshee whenever Mikasa squeezed his hand with every contraction she had. 

As the current contraction came to an end Levi saw the hold his wife had in Mike’s hand loosened and Mike gave out a long breath with relief that almost sound like sobbing. He raised his head and his eyes met with Levi’s, his pained face brightened and Levi was sure he had never seen Mike this happy to see him before.  

“Levi!!” he exclaimed happily, making Mikasa follow his gaze and found his husband present in the room. 

“Levi!” she breathed out his name as if she couldn’t believe he was actually there and raised her hand toward him, ushering him to her side. He quickly obeyed her wishes as Mike, finally was set free, and shaking his hand to get the circulation back quickly made his way toward the door where Erwin and Hange were waiting. Levi took his place and hold his wife’s sweaty hand instead immediately. 

“Hey.” He greeted her softly and watched as a few tears made their way down her cheeks. 

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered as a response, the relief she felt was so immense that it helped her fight against the tears she wanted to shed till this morning as well as making her wanted to sob against Levi’s chest. 

“Hey, I’m here.” He reassured her with a gentle voice that she had never heard coming from him before, swiping the tears and sweat from her face. 

“I was trying to come and rescue you.” She told him and watched as his eyebrows draw together. 

“Mikasa – “ his reprimand was cut by her.  

“I saw a nightmare.” She said shuddering as she remembered the nightmare and how lost she felt until she saw him standing by the door, alive and healthy. Surprisingly, he smiled.

“Sometimes that is just it Mikasa. A nightmare is just a nightmare and nothing more.” 

She looked at him, looked at his beautiful blue eyes, and felt the relief washed over her once again as the words penetrated her mind. She was about the smile back as another contraction hit her. Bad. 

“Umh – That is a stronghold,” Levi grunted as she squeezed his hand, reflecting the pain she had into her hold. Levi bore it all, with only mild grunts here and there, at some point the tore his cape of as he got as sweaty as she was. The sun outside started to set. Nurses came and went brought hot water and clean towels as well as candles to illuminate the room. And at her breaking point, she finally felt herself relaxed after a particularly painful push. The room lapsed into an eerie silence as she and Levi looked into each other’s wide tired eyes, and a second later they heard the most beautiful melody there was to hear for the first time. 

Their baby’s earth-shattering cry. 

[to-be-mary-jay]

I low key hate how my anxiety spikes around this time of year... it's been bad this whole month and I feel like I've lost some progress I had actually done and sorta kept. Lofe I don't know if it's the crippling depression ontop of the seasonal depression or just the fact I'm basically gonna be alone again this year in a way. Like yeah I can go to my mom's and shit that's great sure but she doesn't care about me at least not fully and I don't exist to the rest of my family unless they need to get ahold of mom so like... yeah... I'm tired... I'm tired of many things that being one of them and the other being broken promises and un kept words. And we'll the constant feeling that I can't tell verbally anyone how I feel so I guess I digress? Idk... I'm just... feeling isolated again i guess? We're not even in luck down and i hate bothering my friends because there's so much more that they could be doing than bothering with a worthless waste of space like me. And I'm just... I'm tired... Christmas eve is like two days away and so far I've bought myself christmas presents because I know none of my blood family isgonna do it and I have to try again for the mold thing with the presents I'm making for a bunch of friends because I'm sentimental and at times I wish I wasn't... maybe it wouldn't hurry so bad if I wasn't so sentimental or emotional...

I could go on and on about stuff that's bothering me right now but it won't do anything... venting here only helps for a time... and then I'm stuck again with the same old feelings of "I'm the only person I've been able to rely on" all through my life it's been that... I'm... I want to try to trust my friends with my emotions I do it's just so... hard when you're used to being trampled on emotionally or-or not believed about a thing that you know happened that you remember the place and approximately how old you were when it happened...

Or maybe I'm just tired of feeling like no one will listen... I'm tired of being the only one to bring up when dnd might be (I know it's probably not gonna happen this weekend cause Christmas and stuff) or like when I just... I just want to talk about a thing I like. But I know I'm annoying and overbearing and not anyone's choice for anything outside of necessity or whatever... I'm not... I don't feel valued as a person... I feel worthless and disposable and ignored and talked over and disregarded and-and I'm just a ghost until someone wants to use me for something or other. No one wants to hang out with me, not on my terms anyway and even then I'm too scared to ask now because of all the rejection I've gotten from asking. I'm just I'm tired... and scared... and I don't know how to live the way that's healthy and it's not like... ites not like anyone would notice I'd I vanished over a weekend or something I'm not... not active in anyone's life enough for that... yeah sure they would notice but I don't think many would miss me for long... and god I just...I just want a hug... I just want a really good reassuring hug that tells me it's ok and maybe my soul will stop feeling so out of place in this stupid world where people barely tolerate my existence when I'm with them... I'm sorry... I know this is all stupid... I know some odd my friends read these and I'm sorry... I've probably offended you all at some point but i... this is the only safe place because no one reacts to it and I just... I'm sorry...

[docholligay]

X

AU of mystery and Shadow Patreon release! 1500 words. 

“Rei said she wasn’t sure where you were.” Mina turned from the bar and looked down at Haruka, who angled her chin over the bar and looked at the bartender. “Hey, can I have a beer? Bud’s fine.” She looked back at Mina. “You two’ve been married how long now?”

“Well, you know Rei.” Mina swung herself over to face Haruka. “You can either scream at a problem, or ignore it.” She took a sip of her drink. “And she’s tried screaming.”

She hopped off the barstool and Haruka waved her hand. “There’s no tables, Mina, it’s fine.”

The bartender slid the beer to the edge of the bar, and Mina handed it to Haruka, looking around the room. “Don’t sweat it.”

She walked across the bar and tapped on one of the only two low tables in the bar, where two men sat talking.

“Hey, trade you for the bar.”

One of them looked up at her. “No thanks.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking.” She took another drink. “I mean, I’m taking this table, and you’re gonna go sit at the bar. Sorry for the confusion.”

The other man scoffed. “No.”

Mina set her drink down at the table. “Listen, unless one of you wants to present a cane or some shit, there’s literally 1% of places my friend can sit here, and you’re gonna move.”

“We were here first.”

“Oh, okay,” She raised her voice, “I guess my poor, disadvantaged crippled friend will just have to drink her beer in the middle of the room,” she gestured grandly, “since this place is almost totally made of hi-tops and bartop, but,” she was practically yelling, “I mean, she’s used it, as the the world is always against her poor crippled ass, and” Haruka rolled her eyes and took a long drink of her beer, “you guys, who definitely can’t sit at the bar, were here first! So!”

The bar stared at them quietly, and they shrugged, scowling, and headed to the bar. Haruka wheeled over and sat at the table.

“So you’re in a great mood.” She set down her beer.

“Sometimes I miss bossing people around.” She sat down. “Old habits die hard.”

Haruka was never very good at suggesting things, the way Michiru was, but over the years she had developed a much keener sense of sensitivity. In some ways, the therapy that had taught her to to analyze her own feelings had taught her to analyze others, and she was reasonably certain she knew what the trouble with Mina was.

“You’re upset because it’s the day, right?”

Phrasing didn’t come up much in therapy.

“Ten years today. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I never understood, when people said that, but I do now,” she looked up at Haruka from her beer, “It’s fucking miserable to remember anything that well, people don’t tell you when they say that that it’s a curse.”

Haruka shrugged and gave a little laugh, “I don’t remember anything, so we’re even!” Mina did not return her laugh, and Haruka looked at her gently. “You know, I think everyone’s really happy now. I know I am, I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life, and, I like me. And I know Mako’s loving her bakery. Usagi’s happy in her new marriage. I can tell you how much happier Michiru is! She smiles so much, and it’s real, and--”

“You think Ami’s happy?” She shook her head, “Hotaru?”

“That wasn’t your fault, Mina. You--”

“Don’t you think you’d be just a little bit happier if you could fucking go up the stairs?”

Haruka shook her head. “I wouldn’t have my girls. So. No.” She grinned and gestured broadly, “Besides, I can go up the stairs! I just have to try hard and believe in myself.” Mina did not react to her joke, and she leaned in toward her, “C’mon Mina, you can’t do this.”

“Oh no, I think you’ll find I can.” Mina took another long drink. “Just leave me alone, Haruka.”

“No.” Haruka said. “I won’t. I’ll shut up about it if you want I guess,” she fiddled with the bottle in front of her, “but I won’t leave you alone.”

“You have better things to be doing.” She drained her glass, and set it at the edge of the table.

Haruka waved her hand. “Naw, Michiru’s painting with the girls tonight, I was just gonna work on my models. Besides,” she leaned over a touched Mina on the hand, so she would look up at Haruka’s smile, “I can’t leave after you screamed at two dudes so I could have a table. You’ve basically trapped me here. And,” She picked up a menu and displayed it proudly, “I love their tater tot menu. So I’m staying.”

The waitress came over, a smile on her face and a white half-apron around her waist. She picked up Mina’s empty glass.

“Can I get you another one, honey?” She must have been ten years’ Mina’s junior, probably the age Mina was when it all happened, when they fought that last battle, and they won, and they died, and they lived, and their powers were lost to them forever.

“God, please.” Was all she could manage in response.

“Can I have the pizza tots, please?” Haruka handed the menu back to the waitress, who nodded and headed back toward the kitchen. “Mina,” she stumbled for something to say, “I’m working on an article about the rise of the midrange convertible. I know you love those little things, and, I’ve got an in at Toyota to talk about the Solara and why it didn’t work, assuming I can get them to admit it didn’t work because it was about as exciting as a tongue depressor,  but--”

“You’re really bad at distraction, buddy.”

“That’s true.” Haruka shrugged. “Are you going to the memorial tomorrow? I think we are.”

The waitress set down Mina’s drink and scurried away, as if fleeing the tension of the conversation.

“Probably should, since a couple hundred people died.” She took a swig.

“You know what I think makes it hard?” Haruka took a drink of her beer and leaned forward. “We know what happened. We know why it happened. But we can’t tell anyone, or we might fuck everything up. Everyone thinks it was some….you know, accident or something. But it wasn’t, Mina.” She looked Mina right the eye. “A lot more people would have died without us, and in a, you know, a fair world, you’d be a hero. I would have died if you hadn’t been there, I almost did anyway. You’re a hero to me. I wish everyone else could know.”

Mina looked at her for a moment, not speaking, not able to speak, just running over every decision she made that day in her mind, shaking her head softly.

“You’re really happy now. You used to be so moody.” It was not a question, just a statement of honest fact. “I’ve never seen you so,” She ran through the words in her mind, all of which seemed varying shades of right but imprecise, imperfect, as if the thesaurus of her mind was failing her. “Content. Fulfilled. And maybe,” her voice broke just a little, and she trailed off.

“Exactly! Life’s good!” Haruka rocked back, gesturing broadly. “Mina, I’m great, so, don’t ever feel bad because of me, because I��m doing really good, and, I’m getting a degree in the spring. Me. Haruka Tenoh. An actual college degree. And--”

“Maybe, “ Minas voice wavered, “I hate myself because I know that. And I know, if I could save everyone...I don’t know--” SHe broke off and looked down hard into her drink, trying not to imagine the faces of Ami and Hotaru, trying to forget Rei’s stumbling through the dark, Mako’s leg, detached from her body, Michiru, realizing she’d never pick up the violin again.

She failed, and she did perhaps the most terrifying thing Haruka could imagine.

She began to cry.

Haruka quickly wheeled over to her side and hugged her tightly. “Mina, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter what you would or wouldn’t do, cause you can’t. It’s not your fault. And anyway, you didn’t do it for me. How could you have? You didn’t know I’d be happy. Fuck, I wanted to die for like..a year. You did it to save the world, and you did that.”

“Why didn’t I get hurt, Ruka?” She rested her head on Haruka’s shoulder.

Haruka laughed. “Because, like you said a million times, you’re a better soldier than any of us. Mina,” She rubbed her shoulders, “Sometimes things just...happen. And it's no one’s fault. And you have to, you gotta forgive yourself for not being able to like...change spacetime.” She drew Mina away from her shoulder and looked at her. “Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time on this. There’s a lot of stuff I blamed myself for that wasn’t my fault. You’re not God, you’re just Minako. You do that pretty good. You tried.”

Mina sighed heavily and laid her head back on Haruka’s shoulder. “If you tell anyone I cried I’ll murder you.”

Haruka laughed heartily. “Wouldn’t dream of it. OOh!” Haruka whipped her head around and looked behind her. “My tots are coming!”

“Well. some things never change, I guess.”  

[cph-dreaming]

Just another extract from An Epilogue

So many precious memories in the last few weeks, Emma thought. She wished she had the gift of David to paint them, or the gift of Robert to capture them with words. But like Hanna she was Papa’s girl. She would have to rely on her mind. And she had witnessed things she had never really been privy to before. In a group of siblings one rarely talked about one or the other being the favourite of their parents. It was forbidden ground. And in their family it wasn’t a thing, was it? They had all been loved by their fathers! But then again they all knew that David as the youngest was the darling. The only reason it had never turned into a strive between the siblings was that they all felt the way about David. He was, in Daddy’s words, the ‘Starman’ of them all, the talisman of their family. Maybe it was because he had been such a happy child. In nearly all of Emma’s childhood recollections David played a part, always with that joyous and innocent laugh of his, those sparkling green eyes, just like Daddy’s. One day during the weeks spent in their common purgatory she had asked David.

“Do you have a favourite memory from our childhood?”

David had walked over to one of the large framed photographs in the living room.

“This,” he said, pointing.

It was a photograph Daddy had taken just after they had moved to Denmark, when Papa had become Medical Engineer in one of the large pharmaceutical companies. The move to another country once again had been problematic to say the least. Emma wondered how they had actually managed as kids to survive constantly moving all around Europe. Maybe it was just because their fathers in the end had always been able to create a feeling of home around them, no matter where they were.

In the photograph the four children stood with their backs to the storming sea upon two large stones at the shore, the waves crashing around them. Robert, the oldest, stood furthest from the camera. He wasn’t looking at the lens but was focused on his younger siblings as if making sure they were alright and not slipping on the wet stones. In front of Robert were Emma and Hanna laughing, arm in arms, their heads leaning against each other. They had been so close once. Emma could still hear Daddy shouting ‘Allee, poseer!’ while Papa was giggling next to him.

Before them all, closest to the camera, stood David with his small arms stretched out in the air, a v-sign on both of his hands. He was not only smiling. His whole face, all of his fragile little body, was lit up by the all-encompassing laughter, Emma only remembered too well. Yes, that had been the David of her childhood.

“What changed?” Emma asked, afraid she was overstepping her welcome. But something had changed. She clearly recalled coming home for dinner one day few years after moving out and starting university, seeing the door to David’s room broken on its hinges, the bookshelf in his room smashed to pieces. It wasn’t something a boy of fifteen should be able to do. Turning to her fathers, before Papa could answer, Daddy looked at both of them with a stare that said ‘We don’t talk about this.’

“I don’t know,” David replied after a long pause. “Really, I have no idea. Whenever I think back at my childhood I see myself laughing and dancing with you guys, Papa and Daddy around me, and the only feeling that comes to me is a feeling of safety, of love.” David looked at her with something reminiscent of regret on his face.

“Then puberty hit. Slowly it was as if every happy feeling inside of me turned sour. I don’t know. It was as if someone had stolen one of Daddy’s paintings of our family and sucked all the colours out of it, turning it to a twisted black and white version of us all, of me.”

Emma had never realised how bad it had been. At that time she had been busy establishing her own life, studying, working, falling in love.

“All those emotions inside of me,” David continued, “I just had no idea how to deal with them. Everything was either or. Either I felt something to the fullest extreme or there was this total blackness inside of me. I couldn’t just be happy, I would be ecstatic. I couldn’t just be slightly annoyed, I would get so angry, so full of spite and hate. And whenever I felt sad there would be this inexplicable grief inside of me as if something had been taken from me, something that I had forever lost and would never be able to find again.”

David grabbed the coffee cup in front of him as if seeking some comfort from the warmth.

“And then the periods of total emptiness,” he said after a while. “I could spent hours holed up in my room, and whenever someone asked me what I had been up to I couldn’t remember. I had no idea. There was just blackness. And Papa would be so proud of me because he thought I had been studying for school.”

“But how did they react, de ouders?” Emma asked. “They must have seen what was going on.”

“You know Papa,” David said. “It wasn’t that he didn’t reach out. In his own way he did, you know, in his silent unobtrusive way. But honestly, that is far too easy to dodge as a teen. I know he worried, but he was also working so much at that time.”

“Yeah, it must have been around that time he became head of the neuropharmaceutical division.” Emma had been so proud of their Papa. “And Daddy?”

“I hurt him so much,” David answered looking up at the ceiling as if he with his stare could penetrate the floors and see the man lying upstairs. “Because I shut him out. He tried so hard to get through to me and I wouldn’t let him in. I couldn’t. And we always ended up yelling at each other, fighting all the time. And then Hanna would shout at me, and Daddy would shout at Hanna to leave me alone, always trying to protect me even when we were at our worst. Hanna would crash with Daddy, and Papa would seek to mend everything, you know, calmly, trying to stop us all from killing each other until he and Daddy collided.”

David stood up.

“I need something stronger! Do you want a beer?” Emma nodded. It might still be early afternoon, but with the state they both were in she didn’t really care. And with uncle Milan in the house it gave the two siblings some respite in their duties.

“The spring just before Hanna finished high school and moved out it was really bad.” David said coming back from the kitchen and handing Emma a beer. “ We got into our worst fight ever. I remember her screaming at me, that I was the reason Papa and Daddy was falling out. That I would be the cause of them braking up, that they never had time or energy for anyone but me. And I believed her, having heard the two of them talk alone for endless hours in the evenings. The guilt I felt was so crippling I even...”

“Starman.” Emma was lost for words.

“But that’s the thing! I was anything but Starman.” David’s words came rapidly now. “The Action Man had hit an all-time low! The thought of them splitting up because of me made me raze my room because I didn’t have the guts to do the same to myself. And then they decided to go on vacation separately, Papa and Hanna to Antwerp and Daddy and me to Berlin.”

“But that had nothing to do with you! Or with them splitting up!” The thought that her baby brother had carried that guilt with him for so many years on false premises gave Emma tears in her eyes. “David, godfuckingdammit, that was the summer Mama Ijzermans got really ill. You were all supposed to go to Berlin together but Papa had to go to Antwerp and Daddy wouldn’t let him go alone, so Hanna joined him. Daddy took you to Berlin to spare you from more pain!”

An alarm went off on Emma’s phone.

“I have to give Daddy his medicine,” she sighed.

“Fuck, I hate this shit!” David said walking to the kitchen to get another beer. Emma couldn’t have said it better.

[mimixis]

Towards the sun - Part 6: Blood eagle

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Word Count: 1891

Summary: Pia just wanted to go to work, but oh well, shit happens.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

They made a camp in the woods.

The sons of Ragnar and Pia shared the tent as she was closest to them. There were five single beds in the room. Pia had two options: to sleep on the floor or with one of Ragnar's sons. Bjorn and Ubbe had wives so she would probably end up with Hvitserk, Sigurd or Ivar.

She wanted to help with something, but wherever she went she was sent back. They said Odin's representative shouldn't do such things. So she sat under the tree and watched the preparations for the battle.

Pia watched as Ivar struggled to tie the scarf on his face precisely. He couldn't find a balance between. Once it was too tight, and then too loose. Pia stood up, brushed off her pants and went to Ivar who was sitting on the chariot. She took the black cloth from his hands and he let her without a fuss. She tied it perfectly covering his nose and mouth. She looked into his ice-blue eyes. She didn't know what Ivar saw on her face, but she knew it was enough to make him turn his head away.

Pia embraced his face with both hands and put her forehead against his.

"Come back to me," she whispered and kissed the space between his eyebrows.

Men and some women left, and Pia could only look at their backs. Slaves, servants and a small group of warriors, who were supposed to take care of their safety, stayed in the camp. Pia quickly found Helga and Tanaruz. The teenager immediately nestled into her chest and talked about what she had seen. While she spoke, she didn't notice how Pia gave her more and more food. Such an amount that her body could get energy from, but that she wouldn't get sick after such a long time of not eating regularly.

Helga looked at Pia with gratitude. Tanaruz fell asleep after a meal on Pia's knees, calm for the first time in a long time. Pia looked at her and tried to imagine how terrified she must have been for the whole time. Pia could communicate with them, she knew where she was and she had Ivar. Tanaruz didn't know Vikings language, she didn't understand why people who murdered her parents kept her. The girl had Helga that's true. But Tanaruz couldn't turn fear into attachment as Pia did.

She was aware of how unhealthy it was, but she honestly saw no other solution to survive. She tried to think of it as a defence system that her mind created in a dangerous situation. People, who were kidnapped behaved similarly. They were emotionally tied to the abusers, and it was impossible to blame them, but the situation.

She didn't want to think, however, that what she was beginning to feel for Ivar was only the desire to be in a sound living position. She wanted to believe, despite his emotional problems, that Ivar was a good man. He took her in and believed her. He let her sleep with him, shared his warmth and cared for her safety.

"Tanaruz thinks you're a slave like her," Helga blurted. The woman was looking at the fire. Pia stopped combing the girl's hair with her fingers and looked at Helga questioningly. “She only allows me and other slaves from her country to touch her.”

"She scared," she whispered. To show that she meant no harm, she hung her head down in a submissive manner. “She see her parents murdered, and now you suffocate her here.”

Helga didn't answer her in any way. The fire consumed her whole attention. Pia closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them a few hours later, she was alone. She rubbed her eyes, wanting to get rid of the remnants of her dreams, and then she went outside. Cold air hit her and she hugged the fur closer to her. It was still bright so she couldn't have slept long. When she looked away, she saw the army returns. People cheered, patted their backs and laughed. Pia searched for the chariot and tried to hear the clatter of wheels and a gallop of a horse. But there was nothing.

She looked around hysterically, panic overwhelmed her body. Without seeing Ivar, she sought the crowd for his brothers. Every next face she was looking at seemed stranger and stranger. She almost cried when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. When she looked up, she saw the man who had praised her singing. Pia looked at him with her big, fearful eyes and his grip eased. Because of her gaze and parted lips, he wanted to have her here and now. But he knew he could not.

"Ivar asked for you," he said.

“Where is he?”

“A few miles outside the camp. He asked me to bring you to him." The man let go of her arm and motioned her to follow him. “I'm Halfdan.”

"Pia," she answered.

They walked through the forest in silence. Pia didn't comment on how he looked at her, she didn't ask about anything, she let him lead her away. Halfdan didn't fancy the silence that fell over them. He wanted her to say something - anything - about herself. Whereas Pia felt like on the job interview. She never knew what to say in situations similar to this, what response they expected from people. She couldn't tell him what she usually did because he didn't know what television or bicycle was. So she said she loved dancing and singing.

“How you see me?” she asked after he admitted that he would like her to dance for him one day. “A free woman or slave?”

“Is Ivar your owner? Are you someone's property?”

They stopped walking. Pia could see and hear Ragnar's sons from that distance. Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Floki stood near a hole in the ground. Sigurd was holding a blade to the man's throat so he would not run away. Ivar lay on his stomach and looked down. Pia's eyes returned to Halfdan.

"Free," she said, pointing at herself. The man smiled.

“Exactly. And do not let people tell you anything else.”

Halfdan turned and returned to the camp. Pia watched him leave for a moment, grateful for the fact he brought back her old personality. She felt peaceful again. She walked toward the gathered, her steps sure and fast. Ivar, seeing her, smiled maniacally. A shiver ran through Pia's back.

Floki forced an unknown man to kneel. Pia watched as the Viking's fingers tightened on the man's shirt.

“I've been told your god is a carpenter. And guess what? So am I.”

Pia sat down on a fallen tree and looked away. She didn't want to know if what they would do with him, would cause her to feel the same as a ritual. They had done nothing yet, and Sigurd was assigned to look after the prisoner. Ivar crawled and sat down next to her.

"You will see how we fulfil our revenge, Pia," he murmured.

He leaned toward her and she moved away. She didn't want to hurt him, but it was not her wish to go too fast either. She didn't want to be just a flame. She didn't want him to be just a flame. She put her hand on his to let him know she didn't reject him; that she cared. She searched his eyes and when they found her, she tried to show him how sincere she was. He saw that and squeezed her hand.

Ivar looked around to see if anyone was observing them. Nobody was around them, everyone seemed more occupied by preparations. Bjorn instructed warriors to do a few things, and they didn't have time to watch a girl who claims to know what will happen in the future and a cripple despised by all. He moved closer to her and this time Pia let him stay that way. He embraced her waist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. “I would never hit you. However, the topic of Margrethe evokes in me a great anger. Just thinking about what she told you...”

“Ivar, please, tell me what happened. I will not judge you. I will not even say a bad word, but I must know if we..." she stopped speaking and looked at him so he would know what she meant.

“Exactly what you said happened. Everyone had her, so I did too. I tried to make her and myself feel pleasure, but I was not able... I could not harden.”

“Apparently you have a different taste than your brothers and Margrethe didn't excite you. Maybe you need more than a naked body under yourself. Maybe your needs are more complex. You have time to explore your urges.”

"We have," he said, emphasizing ‘we’.

Pia blinked several times, shocked as he spoke about it so easily. She didn't respond for a while, letting his words settle in her mind. She opened her mouth to answer yes, we do have time, but Ubbe called Ivar over. Ivar wanted her to accompany him to a group of people. They stood in a circle with torches in their hands. When Ivar chose the right spot to watch the spectacle, he sat down and Pia stood next to him. Hvitserk and Sigurd throw the man on the board. They spread his hands and held them at his wrist so he would not be able to move them.

Pia watched, though she would prefer not to. Curiosity took over her senses. At first, she was not sure, if she wished to know what would happen, but she changed her mind, seeing how excited Ivar was being. She regretted her decision when she saw Bjorn with a hammer. Not a second passed, and the Viking knocked a nail into the man's palm. He did the same with the other one. The man was screaming in pain, but Pia didn't look away.

Bjorn ripped the man's shirt, then went to the fire with the knife that was given to him and warmed up the metal. The man cried in agony as the blade cut the skin on his back. Bjorn dug a knife into the wood next to him, then torn the man's skin with his bare hands. Pia could see blood, flesh and spine. Ubbe gave him the axe, and though Pia was aware of how cruel it was - she was, she really was - but she stood still like a rock.

Bjorn strikes the axe into the man's back once, twice. Suffering visible on the stranger's face. Blood gushed and hit even her. She didn't wipe it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ivar creep towards the tortured man. He looked at the life that escaped the man's eyes.

Pia didn't react until the morning when Vikings hanged the man's body on his lungs. She ran to the bushes and vomited. She was throwing up until she began to cry. She sat a few steps away, her back to the hanging man. When she placed her head against the tree, she thought she heard someone's voice.

“How the little piggies will grunt when they hear how the older boar suffered.”

A voice spoke, but Pia only saw a raven.

_________________

@unicornbaby741 @ivarandersen @jamierdr  @mulders-xfile

[ackerbooty]

Note: If you make it to the end, know this post turned out much longer than I anticipated. And god forgive me saying and switching between opiate and opioid all over, my head is so scattered and I ... yeah.

I'm terrified.

Maybe in a way that is different from most--but it has to do with my meds. I was in a car accident when I was 17 years old, it'll be 10 years next September and I sustained a multitude of injuries:

Head injury

Glass/trauma under left eye that has led to my vision worsening in left eye

Fractured collarbone

Fractured first rib

Pnemothorax (collapsed lung) that now affects my breathing/problems with scar site

Hypersensitivity that circles around left breast and ribs

Herniated disc - back surgery in 2011 where there is now a scar with massive scar tissue

Fractured sacrum (My ass. I broke my ass.)

Fractured pelvis in 5 places

Severe damage to the sciatic nerve

All of these fractures and injuries were sustained to my left side, and continue to give me problems to this day. It was nothing I, or my family, thought and was told would be long lasting or "permanent". The orthopedic doctor, while I was still in my wheelchair and unable to walk told me I DID NEED PHYSICAL THERAPY (he was a fuckin' idiot, but that's an entirely different story that ends with me giving my mom and look and mouthing "I want it" and her nodding and saying "duh".). I was 17. I didn't know to ask questions. I didn't know what questions to ask. My herniated disc pressed on my sciatic nerve and was said to be the cause of my chronic nerve pain and that surgery would be the best route to seeing about a solution. My neurologist made me wait over a year after meeting him because I was so young and should easily gounce back and he wanted me to try more PT and go through tests. He also first wanted me to see a psychiatrist because all of this pain could be a coping mechanism.

For so long I thought I was making it up. I had no idea of what I was feeling, when my left foot would feel like it was actually catching fire when I put pressure on the heel of my foot in bed, how my last three toes on my foot were sensitive and couldn't stay warm.

Money. Money. More money. Surgery. I wake up. My settlement money gone from just trying to figure out why I was hurting when I was told I wouldn't. What was this burning sensation? Why couldn't I live without pain medication? Why was I having to tell my mother that I wasn't addicted to the pills and that I needed them.

Diagnosed: Depression/PTSD

Chronic and constant migraines

Fibromyalgia (how many times am I going to see an eye roll from people who actually do not believe I this?)

Is my story important? I'm unsure. But because of the opioid epidemic declared at the beginning of January, and even before then, I've slowly seen access to the medications I need--yes, considered controlled substances--become more difficult and harder to get. I have been lucky, but only because my pain and injuries are more than well documented and because I've plundered more than 50k into medical bills trying to fix it for documentation to exist. I've also been seeing the same doctor since my accident. This doesn't take away from the fact that I am a 25 year old depend on opiates to help my REAL and CHRONIC and CRIPPLING nerve pain/body pain/migraines/etc. I admit to being lucky in so far as you can define the word to my situation. There are those I know who are being ripped off their medications all around me--one, diagnosed for years with depression and with bipolar disorder was taken off a regime of medication that worked for him and had been a solid, study foundation he trusted and was put on a vitamin instead. Another woman had been on the same C2 classified medication for almost 30 years and was taken off of it without any warning, and was sent to a pain management clinic without any help for detoxification and given a prescription for Naproxen.

I am on Medicaid. While working to get my Bachelors degree, I could not work and this is how I've had to support my medical bills. I am grateful, so very grateful for the help this provided me in getting the medical care I cannot afford, but it is also difficult to have medication approved for use. If a dosage is deemed too high or because of the brand, or because of what it is--an opiate medication--I am to try another first.

I haven't had anything taken from me. Not yet.

So why am I scared?

This was the first time, after being prescribed a new medication by my doctor that we were both enthusiastic about helping my quality of life, the insurance company faxed my doctor a form of six other medications I had to try before I could try what my doctor had given me. This could easily be an experience of someone else's, but before my doctor could tell them simply, "No, she has been on this before. She has developed a tolerance/it did not work./etc. and I could usually get what I needed. Like Movantik. TMI or just a lesson for you, because we all have biological functions that are kind of icky, but those of us who are dependent on opioid medication to just survive a damn day without a little bit of pain have a hard freakin' time pooping. Movantik is a medication specifically targeted at opiate induced constipation and while it can be hard on your stomach, it is a god send for me when I'm having a difficult time using the toilet. There are a few kinks, so to say with it, but I cried when I saw there was something like this finally on the market. My insurance tried to basically give me a prescription for Miralax. I have these two big ass--I'm unsure if that's a pun intended to make some of you guys still with me have a good giggle--bottles of Miralax powder that ... mm ...

I've been on medication since I was still considered a teenager. For me, at least, this treatment is not helpful on its own. It makes me cramp and is painful because it does not do enough of what it is supposed to do--as in, it does not bring enough moisture back into my stool so I can easily go to the bathroom.

So I'm scared.

I'm finally back home.

After seven years I have finally graduated. So I'm closer to my doctor's office and we can finally get me onto a medication that better suits my needs than what I'd been given.

I'm put on Embeda. With is a medication that is "higher tech" and "tamper proof". It's an extended release medication that is Morphine Sulfate with 1.2 mg naltrexone hydrochloride. I am currently on a 30 mg dose. I've been on Morphine Sulfate before that was described as a more dangerous medication and one that is considered easier to abuse than this one here. I can't be put on Morphine Sulfate because once my body decides to become dependent on a medication, it sure doesn't like being put back on it in any shape or form.

I was so happy to be put on my intended medication before given this, but I was still hopeful. It's difficult to find something that works and I have a cautious doctor--which I'm not complaining about, thank god--who starts me out on a lower dose so we see how I react. We usually always have to go up. It's all in all, what one could typically chalk up to as a long day. Tiresome. But necessary. Something I'm willing to go through because this is the only thing that has been able to give me any sort of quality of life. I combine it with exercise, acupuncture treatments, and constant chiropractic care (the last two of which are not covered by Medicaid).

But why am I scared? Why have I taken up this much room on your dash? Because it isn't working.

I know I'm not a doctor. But I know my body. The difference between needing a higher dose and a different medication altogether hasn't failed me yet, and I could be wrong about this. Obviously, I could be. I want to be. Because my doctor wants me to try a higher dose before we switch me to another medication on this list.

I'm in so much pain right now because I cannot calm my sciatic nerve damage down right now. It's like my entire left leg and bottom is an inferno. My body is also hot. I'm afraid.

And I simply needed to tell somebody. I have no idea what this will do.

Nothing, most likely. I could get picked on for being a Medicaid recipient, given complete and utter shit for something perceived as wrong or inaccurate in what I have said. I am writing my personal experience. What I am currently going through. And I keep switching from opiate to opioid/s. Maybe someone will tell me I can get this right. Or that I'll be okay. Another could even help me. Or I could get this out to someone else and let them know that this is utter hell and sometimes ... sometimes the pain makes me want to go back and figure out a way around what happened.

Perhaps, I can reach someone else going through chronic pain. Someone seeing the repercussions of this "epidemic" that has been declared. Maybe I can be the one, if they got this far, to say I'm here. I feel like I'm dying, I am crying, and I wish someone would help me, but I will live. And I have a hand for you to hold.

God I just want some help. It's unbearable tonight. I never thought I'd post about this. Like I said, I don't propose to have knowledge. I'm speaking from a point in time that is filtering itself through pain.

I just wish to know ... is there someone like me? Getting that evil look when you step out the car and "take away" a handicapped spot from "someone who could really use it", terrified of the sort of pain and overwhelming sadness that comes from one moment in your life you had no control over (that I don't even remember), forgetting your pride to ask for gas to make it to even get the scripts that may not work for you in the first place. Laying in bed and writing in hopes of finding community. Tired. Hurting.

xx lyndz

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Malik AlSayf-Bittersweet Tragedy

The tragedy has left deep scars on more than one person, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

Malik Al-Sayf has lost it all. His brother. His left arm. His strength. His assassin skills. His confidence.

And all of these, because of the patronising arrogance of a certain ‘Master Assassin’. He was the one to save the mission, with the help of his brother and lover, but the trio had a lot to suffer. Crippled. His brother was killed. His lover’s sight and back were partially crippled. He himself was crippled, having lost an arm, due to a grave injury. And now he was stuck aiding the assassins from behind a desk, at the Jerusalem Bureau, feeling irked to no end. He received no compensation or apology, absolutely nothing to sooth his destroyed soul, whilst the man who jeopardized the mission was walking freely down the streets of Masyaf, licking the boots of his Master and still performing important assassinations.

He was alone. He sat there, mindlessly drawing a map, dipping the white feather in black ink, but he couldn’t focus. His mind wandered to the depths of despair. He was so deep in his mind,he messed up the papyrus scroll,being by then completely buried in his dark thoughts.

'It should have been me’ 'Kadar was too young to die’ 'He had all life ahead of him’ 'Three people had to sacrifice themselves, for one to leave unharmed and get all the glory’ 'I am a useless cripple now’ 'My love may lose her sight’ 'She may remain paralyzed’ 'I am not going to be a whole man for her anymore’ 'I lost all chances’ 'I am alone’

He slumped down the wall and rested his lone hand on his forehead, letting the sorrowful tears stream down his face. Being alone, he allowed himself to show weakness, at least to himself.

Nobody to judge him. Nobody to comfort him. Nobody to care about him.

He sobbed silently, trying to release all tension and emotions, for the first time after so many years of stoic façades.

He was back to being Malik. Just Malik. But an incomplete Malik. He was alone. Or so he thought. That is, because unbeknownst to him, the recovering girl had awoken and saw the whole heartbreaking crumbling of her beloved with her unbandaged, undamaged emerald eye and gripping the wooden door tightly, she kept peeking through the gap, silently letting her own tears wet her pale cheeks, not being able to react in any other way.

That was all in the morning, at the earliest hours and the tides have calmed after a long while. The girl, despite her injuries, dressed in a casual outfit worn by women in that city, covering her head, protecting herself from the scorching sun and hiding the ugly scar across her right side of her face, to get the groceries. She walked calmly, enjoying the Spring heat kissing her skin, after such a long time and sighed, lost in thought. What could she do to help her paramour? He was in a dark place and she tried to help. But…how?

Strolling slowly through the city of Jerusalem, she heard a faint angelic sound.

'Meow’

Huh? What was that?

'Meoooow’

The faint sound trailed longer and repeated again and again, making the red head snap her head towards the small animal.

A cute white kitten started prowling around the girl, rubbing itself around her ankles and purring graciously.

With a soft smile, (y/n) picked up the kitten and raised it to her eye level, only to notice an important fact.

The kitten was missing his left paw.

With a soft giggle, the girl rubbed noses with the kitten and he stuck out his tongue slightly, bleping and closing his eyes. Hoisting the groceries bag better on her arm, she put the kitten inside her blouse, hiding it with her thin green shawl and went back to the Bureau.

(y/n):Come on, sweetheart, you’re coming home with me. I’ll have to introduce you to someone. He will adore you!

There, she saw her beloved scribbling frantically, not noticing her presence. She smiled sweetly at him, then meowed  slowly making her way towards his desk.

Malik: Ah, (y/n), I see you’ve returned. (y/n): I have.

‘Meow’

Malik: *raises an eyebrow* What was that? (y/n): I have a gift for you~. Malik: Huh? A what?

The girl turned around, took off the shawl from her head and carefully took the feline from her blouse, cradling him in her arms lovingly, then turned to Malik.

Malik: A cat? (y/n): Isn’t he so adorable, Malik~? Malik: He is…But why did you bring him here? This place is hardly a proper place to raise a pet. (y/n): I think we can afford a little arrogance, after all we’ve done for the Brotherhood, correct? Besides, it’s just a small ball of fur, nothing inconvenient! Malik: Are you really going to take care of him? Cats can be quite…Stubborn, to say the least. (y/n): Oh, come on, he’s very affectionate! And…Well... Malik: He’s…He’s missing a paw… (y/n): He is. He is one sweet, strong kitten, despite his incapacity…And I think he likes you a lot. I mean...I guess you’re both incredibly brave and and amazing kittens!

The girl set the cat on the table, where he looked up curiously at the man in front of him, then started rubbing his head on Malik’s hand, rolling on the table, seeking attention from the man in cause. Malik was still in slight shock at the cat’s behaviour and being in general, while the girl was watching in glee. Those two really clicked off well.

Malik: What should we name him? (y/n): I had something in mind but…Only if you-… Malik: Kadar? (y/n): Kadar.

The man sighed, seeing her sweet, sad smile as she spoke his younger brother’s name, making him hang his head down, slightly going back to his sorrowful state, but the kitten was faster and he raised his sole paw up, trying to touch Malik’s face, as if he was worried about the man’s emotional state. With a tender smile, the girl cupped her lover’s face and kissed his forehead, hugging him tightly.

(y/n): Go rest, my love. You’ve been working so hard for the past days, it’s high time you get some time off. And don’t bother trying to argue with me, just take little Kadar with you too...You both need company. Malik: *sighs* You never know when to stop. Very well then.

He clumsily picked the cat up, going to his room and staid there until late at night. The girl yawned, slightly tired and bored from the lack of activity from the day, so she decided to call it quits and went to her room, changing in one of Malik’s large shirts that she stole a while ago, trying to catch some sleep. But she couldn’t. Her mind kept flying towards her paramour, left alone with his parasitic thoughts in another room, so she sighed, got up and knocked on the door, entering slowly, trying not to disturb him.

But he wasn’t asleep. Multiple candles were still alit, as he lay there, topless, reading a book, little Kadar curled up, nuzzling his neck.

(y/n): Are you okay,Malik? You kind of…Got me worried… Malik: Exceptionally ordinary. (y/n): Don’t try to fool me, Malik. We both know that’s far from true. Malik: Did you truly expect me to admit how bad I feel? (y/n): N-No…But… Malik: I’m not fine, but it matters little now. Injustice will always win, so forget it.  (y/n): Look…I-I know…I couldn’t possibly bring your brother...Or your arm back...Nor turn back time and fix everything up…But…Okay, maybe I’m really useless…But I can’t stand seeing you like this. It hurts so much...  Malik: You’re already half blind, just close your eye and you’re done.  (y/n): Well, you don’t really handle this situation properly! But I want to help, Malik. I’m here for you. I’ve always been…So please...Please don’t shut me away. 

He put his book on the table and got in front of the small girl, looking down at her, exhaustion and depression lurking obviously on his face. Being closer also meant that the outline of each wound was times more obvious on his sun-kissed chest, making her bite her lip. Malik: Isn’t that my shirt?   (y/n): Might be. Malik: Your ex-thief career is showing again. (y/n): It was a while ago…

He turned his back to the fox like girl and put his hand on his face, slightly annoyed, trying to hide any emotion that might surface.

Malik: Just go to your room, (y/n). There’s nothing to see here but depression. (y/n): If I weren’t ready to stand by your side through every danger, I wouldn’t have come here. We’ve been together for so long and braved so many problems together... Malik: You are doing a grave mistake. (y/n): I prefer to make my own mistakes. But darling, staying my your side will never be a mistake.

The girl unbuttoned her shirt and hugged his wounded back tightly, resting her forehead on his shoulder. She could feel him tense up. He was stunned. Rooted to the spot. Unaware of his next move.

What was going on? What should he do? Those questions became even more conflicting as she started slowly kissing his scars, then nuzzled her face on the crook of his neck, no doubt standing on her tippy toes, as she wasn’t tall enough otherwise. He could feel the breathe hitch in his throat as his heart started aching more and more.

Malik: (Y/N)…Why…? (y/n): I don’t need a reason to comfort my lover, do I? Or is it a crime? Malik: No, but… (y/n): But what, Malik? Have I not been what you expected? I know I am a terrible lover and all that but…I apologize if I disappointed you…I just wanted to see you happy…Smile…Especially during these times of darkness…I know I’m no good...But I’m...I’m trying, I promise... Malik: No, don’t misunderstand, please. I only wish I could properly embrace you, but now, I am unable to comfort you…It s driving me crazy...I’m not worthy of you and your love anymore. You have been everything I could wish for and more than I ever deserved from this life. I just don’t understand why would you stand by me, even now. I’m a cripple. I’m broken, (Y/N), what is there left of me that you still cling to?  (y/n): Obviously, your body may be broken, but I am hardly a model anymore, love. Nevertheless, as long as you can feel my warmth and feelings, then I’m happy. I love you, Malik, with or without your arm. It’s still you, just as I’ve always told you. I’m lucky to have met you and to have your feelings. And little Kadar thinks so too. So please, for us, make an effort and reach out to these feelings. Please...Let us save each other. Malik: I don’t deserve you...You are an angel... (y/n): I’m a fox, dearest, hardly a pure deity, so I guess you’re alright.

He turned towards her and caressed her face tenderly, having her own hand over his, then he untied her eye bandage, letting it fall on the ground, as she bit her lip and casted her gaze to the ground, trying to hide the wound.

(y/n): Quite ungraceful, if you ask me. Gory as hell. Nothing pretty to see here. Malik: It’s only fair to stay this way, when we’re alone in our intimacy, don’t you think? (y/n): Since when do we play fair, Malik? Malik: We never do.

He pushed the fire-kissed strand of hair covering her damaged eye behind her ear then leaned down, kissing her gently. Parting, he traces down to her neck, then slowly removes her shirt, revealing her bare shoulders and cleavage, both beautiful, yet both covered in merciless scars and fresh wounds that have yet to properly heal.

(y/n): Why do you still hold such a depressed look, my love? I know I’m hardly at my highest glory on the beauty-department, but- Malik: No, (Y/N), you will always be perfect, no matter what you think may look like flaws...And yet, these are all my fault. Each one depicts the time I was not there on time to aid you...Save you, just like I promised I would, the day I asked you to marry me. (y/n): Seeing that you have the same problem, I suppose we’re both terrible bad at out jobs as protectors, dear husband. After all, I said a vow as well, did I not~? Malik: Will you ever have it in your heart to forgive me? (y/n): What is there to forgive, if you’ve done nothing wrong? Stop overreacting, I am not the one suffering here. You are. Malik: But I- (y/n): I love you, Malik. And so did Kadar. What happened could have been avoided, but it was not your fault and we both know it. There is no use lingering on the past, when the present is right here, in front of you, telling you to wake up to your senses. Malik: *sighs* I know you are right, but I cannot just forget what happened. Not when it was just a few days ago... (y/n): You don’t have to forget, my love. Just don’t forget that the past is over. The present is all that we have. Malik: Then, may I enjoy this present for an eternity, with you by my side? (y/n): I will always be here for you, Malik. Always and forever. Malik: Always and forever.

They sealed the promise with a solemn kiss, the same way they did when they said their vows to each other on that faithful night, only the two of them, then went back to his bed, cuddling, with little Kadar just between them, all of them enjoying the happy memories and warmth, for as long as they lasted. Dark times may come, but they will always pass, sooner or later and that is something that Malik is never going to forget any time soon.

[chasseuseartisane-blog]

Solace || Oneshot

Chère Maman,

Another year since I lost you.

Another year with the knowledge I’ll never hear another of your lectures on there being a time and place for things.

Another year without you scowling at Papa and Marian for tracking in mud, and throwing your hands in the air and declaring you’d given up when I followed in their footsteps.

It is a blessing, I suppose, that you and Papa left us so peacefully. I see too many people struggle with life and their deaths are unlikely to be as graceful as yours. But I miss you no less because of this.

Some days, I find myself turning to where you’d sit to ask what you thought of my new designs. Other times, when I fall asleep at the table, I could swear I wake up to your voice reminding me that a good night’s sleep helps with a good day’s work.

It was the fair the other day, and we did well, Maman, really well. I could have sworn I saw Papa at the gambling tables one night. I nearly cried out to him to stop wasting our hard earned money, just like you used to, before I remembered. He is gone too. You are together, but you are not with us. Not anymore.

Some days, I feel lost without the two of you, and today is one of those days. You and Papa taught me to pick myself up, to keep moving and working until everything is better. But Maman, I hope you do not think me weak for taking these moments for wish you were still here. You would make it easier for me to know what to do, even if it were the opposite of what you’d say.

I do know you’d shake your head at me for asking a Musketeer to teach me to fight, but Papa would laugh – you can’t deny it. Besides, René is harmless, to me at least. If he teaches me to fight, the next time Marian tries to pick me up, he’ll find it much more difficult.

Don’t scold, Maman. We haven’t fought in so long, it was just one fight. I know I shouldn’t have called him an imbecile, but I was upset. He was over-reacting over a few little bruises, but now that I think on it, I know you and Papa would have done the same. I won’t tell Marian though, even if I know you think I should. He shouldn’t be running off and seeking out trouble, should he?

I do try not to seek out trouble, I just seem to stumble into situations which no respectable woman should find themselves in. But you and Papa taught me how to handle those situations. With strength and dignity, even if I feel like I have neither. Perhaps if you hadn’t taught me to be so strong, I wouldn’t feel the need to prove it every time something comes to challenge me.

I apologise for that, Maman. I must have caused you so many headaches. I do try to behave, but it does not always seem possible.

My passions rise too easily, and yet I keep myself too distant from people. Such a terrible contradiction, I know.

I’m writing this underneath the tree we used to picnic under, and I can hear someone, so I must go. 

Give Papa my love and tell him that I’m causing just as much trouble as ever. Pardon, Maman, I know you don’t approve. I’ll take care of Marian though, I promise, and he’ll take care of me – even if I argue with him.

Your loving daughter always,

Marie

Marie rolled up the letter and tucked it safely into the basket she'd brought with her. Unashamed of the tears that had rolled down her cheeks, she studiously ignored whoever it was that had stumbled across her taking a picnic under the tree. Whoever it was ignored her, perhaps realising this was not something they needed to interrupt, or perhaps they simply hadn’t noticed her or even cared. She just felt relief that she wouldn’t be called upon to make meaningless conversation. 

When she’d been younger, her mother had sometimes taken her to this same tree so they could enjoy time away from home and work and the boys, as they’d affectionately called Papa and Marian. They’d eat and laugh and Marie would listen to stories from her mother about her own youth. 

There’d never be lectures under the tree, but there would be teasing about Marie’s latest adventures with misguided young men thinking she would be easily charmed. 

Those men were lucky if they were simply scared off by Marian. The unlucky ones ended up wearing ale or a handprint across their face. 

Now, when Marie came here, the place felt like a graveyard because of the ghosts of memories long gone. She often avoided it, unless she was taking the time to wallow in self-pity or to grieve. Once a year, she made the effort to come here, on the day her mother passed away, and to sit and picnic by herself. 

The food never tasted quite as nice as it had when she’d been here with her mother, but she liked the memories. Perhaps it was painful, but it was a pain she did not wish to forget. 

On the day of her father’s death, she always went hunting and ended up at his favourite tavern. There, she’d be left alone simply because the owner of the tavern had liked Leo Duval, so he ensured no-one bothered his daughter when she came there to privately toast his memory. 

The sad days would always end the same way; at home, quietly resting next to the fire, her arms around Jacques. It was one of the only times Marian wouldn’t tease her for treating the hunting dog like a pampered pet, not that it’d ever bothered her any other day. 

For now, Marie didn’t move. It was as though something was pressing against her chest, too tight for her to properly catch her breath. It was the same way she’d felt the moment she realised what she’d lost. 

Some days, like today, Marie knew it’d happen. She knew she’d feel crippled by the grief and she’d let herself sink into it with the knowledge she’d pick herself up later and move on. It was what her parents would want. 

Days like this were the easier days, even with the knowledge it’d hurt. 

It was the little moments that hurt the most, the careless reminders that felt like when she’d accidentally cut herself with the shears. Not life-threatening, never quite so bad as that, but the small nicks that felt like fire for a few moments. 

Those, she couldn’t prepare for, and they made her feel like she was falling and she couldn’t catch herself. 

Those only reminded her that her parents would no longer be there to catch her. 

No, she much preferred to grieve like this. By actions, by seeking out the better memories and wrapping herself in the happier moments as though they were cloaks she and her mother had made. 

It was easier to sit here and remember the time they’d brought flowers for no other reason than they felt like it, and her mother braided them into her hair, telling her of how her mother had done the same for her on her wedding day. 

Marie might not always particularly be fond of the idea of marriage, of risking everything on so flimsy an ideal of love ( an ideal that she’d only ever seen work perfectly once, in her own parents), but she did regret that her mother would never braid flowers into her hair on her wedding day. 

The memory still brought a smile to her face, a soft, gentle smile that shone through the tears that still clung to her eyelashes and she slowly started unpacking her lunch. 

It was a simple one, just a fresh loaf of bread and some cheese she’d bought at the markets, but she enjoyed it all the same. 

When she finished, she just leaned against the tree, quietly humming to herself. She’d never been a good singer, unlike her mother, but she’d grown up hearing her mother sung as she did her work. Marie had picked up the habit, but not the skill. She didn’t care. 

When the sky started to go dark, Marie stood up, dusting herself off. She wore the last dress her mother had ever made for her, but covered it with a far newer cloak. Sentimentality only went so far, and Marie knew to keep herself look neat and fashionable at all times to showcase her work. She made short work of tidying up what she’d brought with her, packing the basket back together before taking the short walk home. 

Marian had beaten her home, and she left her annoyance with him over their last fight behind as she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Tonight, she had no desire to fight. She’d forgive him entirely, right until he argued with her again, whether that was tomorrow or next month. 

Marie knew Maman would approve of forgiveness, so even if it weren’t her strong suit, she’d try. Even if the peace didn’t last between the two of them, Marie would take solace in her brother’s company, for who else knew her pain better than him tonight. 

[suburbangothc]

What is it that you don't like about season 3? Please do elaborate :)

Hey!  So I have a few reasons as to why I don’t like season 3 and it’s kinda long so here we go under a read more:

DISCLAIMER: I am in NO way saying that there aren’t important issues dealt with in this season.  I also am not saying that you’re wrong for liking s3 the best or if Isak is your favorite character.  These are my observations and my feelings on events, and a lot of them are emotional for me so they won’t mean as much to the next person.

1.  I honestly don’t like Isak as a character?  Like I get that a LOT of people do, but from the very beginning of the show something about him rubbed me the wrong way.  He was an absolute a w f u l friend to Eva and an even WORSE friend to Jonas.  I still don’t think he ever apologized to Jonas for manipulating his relationship into the ground.  I realize that Jonas and Eva weren’t going to work because of issues that would’ve existed with or without Isak’s meddling, but Isak’s decisions took a toll not only on their relationship, but Eva as a person.  She almost switched SCHOOLS cause of what he caused.  I feel like so many people downplay the effects Isak had just because he liked Jonas and didn’t think Eva was good enough for him.

Then we move into s3, where he’s still into shady stuff?  I don’t find anything romantic about being the “other person” to a 4 year relationship, no matter how faulty that relationship is.  When they’re lying in bed in the 5th episode and Sonja calls Even, it’s like it doesn’t even bother Isak that Even is cheating on his girlfriend with him?  Like, as long as he’s getting what he wants who cares about the other people surrounding them right?  Also, in this same vein, the s h i t way he treats Emma.  Not only does he insult her to get her to kiss him in the beginning just to show off to his friends, he then proceeds to USE her, let her imagine that something could happen between the two of them while totally crushing on someone else.  I was SO infuriated when Even and Isak left Emma + Sonja at Isak’s place.  Like, how selfish could they be?  Obviously Emma outing him was super gross and awful, but it doesn’t redact the fact that Isak was pretty terrible to her in the beginning.

Finally we go into the HUGE reason why I could never, ever in a million years like his character.  He is incredibly, 100% ableist against mental illness.  I honestly felt sick to my stomach at the way he described his mom, an obviously sick person, to Even.  I have a LOT of mental illness in my family, myself included, and so to hear him l a u g h i n g about the obviously terrifying symptoms she has just turned me 100% off for him the rest of the season.  Especially since he does it YET AGAIN with Magnus’ mom!  As someone who has had to deal with ableism my entire life in both a mental and physical way, I just cannot handle it, and I know that a talk with his friend about mental illness and falling in love with Even is not going to overshadow his issues with mental illness that has obviously been with him for a long time.  In my personal life, it doesn’t matter how educated people can get, they still retain that ableist mindset.  Obviously everyone has their own experiences, but as this is my own opinion my experiences are going to cast a shadow on how I react to things.  There may be people who think I’m far too sensitive about this, but I’ve just seen that ableism is ingrained in almost e v e r y o n e it seems, and people rarely stop saying “crazy” or “insane” or the r word (I won’t say it), just as they won’t stop saying “crippled” or “gimp” or the other slurs that people use against physically challenged people.

- Now that I got THAT out of the way lmao, I wasn’t a fan of the boy squad until the very end.  What they talked about was just boring to me, but I mean that’s just me lol.

- I didn’t like what they did to Noorhelm or either of their characters in s3.  I get that Thomas left the show, but there were so many different ways they could’ve played him not being in the episodes but still there so we wouldn’t have had to have this weird out of character move to London where Noora drops all of her friends and school just to follow him, and then she comes back after…william chooses pats on the back from dad over her (????) and just washes walls and talks loudly on aerobeds in the hallway.  None of it makes sense to me, and I feel like it’s a complete assault on both of their characters.

I mean Even was cute but I hate cheaters, even if their relationship is on the rocks.  I didn’t hate Even though, he’s cute and he was really expressive.  I wish he would’ve brought up his severe mental illness before he even started hooking up with Isak, but since he waited he obviously got spooked off by Isak’s “mentally ill people ruin lives” speech.  No idea how you could trust someone like that when you yourself have a mental illness, but whatever.  He did a great job. 

My favorite person s3 was Jonas, who proved to me once and for all that he deserves a way better best friend than Isak.