#i remember the excruciating conversation i had with my cousin and my sister a few months ago in which i was trying to convince them that

[a-dream-deferred]

watching the teenage girls in your family succumb to diet culture & restricted eating is an awful kind of pain. like what can i even do about it

[amydancepants-peralta]

44 or 52 pls! :)

Hi anon!  I tossed up over the two for a bit there, but here goes!  

Here is 52: “I thought you knew.” 💕

☀️ The sun feels warm on Amy’s skin, and as a refreshingly cool breeze rushes through her hair she finds it next to impossible not to break out into a grin.  Today was turning out to be a pretty great day.

Given that over the years the Santiago family have spread themselves out over various states and cities, it has always been considered a sizeable task to get more two or more members in the same place and the same time - major family events excluded.  Perhaps that was why today felt particularly special; an impromptu gathering in the park leading to three of her brothers (and their extended family) occupying a decent amount of space in a park thirty minutes drive from her and Jake’s apartment.  

The infectious giggles of two of Amy’s cousins, Maria and Eddie, bubble up to her ears as they zoom past, far too intent on winning their game of chase to acknowledge their tia as their tiny feet kick up blades of grass.  Their father, Luis, stands over to Amy’s right, manning the grill and holding his ground in a relatively level-headed disagreement with David about the ‘right way’ to barbecue the meat they were serving with lunch.  To her left, her sister-in-law Clarissa teaches her and Andrew’s daughter how to play patty cake.  The relaxed joviality that can only be brought about by the gathering of loved ones is floating in the air around them, and Amy is endlessly thankful that both she and Jake had the chance to join in today.

Six months have passed since the birth of their daughter - since, in one evening, Amy had experienced both excruciating pain and an abundance of elation, all within five short hours - and it felt like both yesterday and a million years ago, all at the same time.  

It had been an interesting few months to begin with (babies, she had quickly learned, are not interested in following any schedules you may have put together, no matter how meticulous they may be); and it was only in the last ten or so weeks that the three of them had finally been able to figure out a routine.  Finally, their little girl was starting to sleep through the night, and she and Jake have learned to adjust to their new normal (which always seems to be changing; but if there is anyone that has taught Amy Santiago to expect the unexpected, it’s Jake Peralta).  

None of it has been easy - most of the great things in life rarely were - but she would do it all again in a nanosecond, just for the sheer joy of hearing her daughter’s laugh for the first time.  

Today, Amy stands amongst family with freshly cut hair (thanks largely to her husband taking an extra day off yesterday, pushing her out their front door with a declaration that today is Amy Day), wearing one of her favourite dresses and lending out a helping hand as she talks to other adults about topics other than teething and feeding schedules, and it all feels kind of amazing.  

A stray breeze grabs a hold of a pile of napkins that had been sitting at the table, throwing them carelessly over the surrounding grass, and Amy scrambles quickly - desperate to catch them before they fall victim to the trampling feet of her many nieces and nephews.  It turns out to be an almost impossible task, excusing herself with a polite smile as she moves too close for comfort towards other people’s gatherings, snatching up the items as quickly as possible so that she can make a hasty exit.  

It’s as she moves to grab the last offender that Amy manages to overhear a conversation, the guilt at eavesdropping only temporary as she picks up on the topic.  There are two women to her left, both of whom were nursing what looked to be wine coolers in plastic cups, and one woman’s focus was on something (or rather, someone) in the distance before her.

“Ohmygodokay, Jenna … don’t look right away, but I’ve totally just found the hottest guy at this park.”  There’s a pause, and then the voice continues.  “I told you not to look right away!”

“Okay, okay - relax Rachel!” was the snarky reply, following up quickly with an “Okay, damn!”

Still keeping her head bowed, Amy’s wedding ring set sparkles in the sunlight as she reaches out to grab the last napkin, and it’s taking all of her restraint not to straighten up and look in the direction the women were facing.

“See?  I told you I’d found the winner.”

“Mmmhmm, yep.”

“The height, the smile, the baby sling strapped around him … you know, I’ve never really been big on plaid, but on this guy it totally works.”

“It really does.”

It’s the mention of the plaid pattern that finally piques Amy’s curiosity, and she swivels her head as she stands, raising her free hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun as she studies the scene before her.

And honestly, the gossiping girls behind her were not wrong.

The hottest guy in the park was definitely walking towards them; and with an overwhelming surge of pride Amy notices that the hot guy is, in fact, her husband.  He’s wearing the eco-friendly sunglasses she bought him for Christmas, and has their baby daughter safely strapped to his chest care of the sling that Gina had given Amy at her baby shower, and he’s honestly never looked hotter.  

Returning from Diaper Duty - a role he shares equally with his wife without a single complaint, a fact that makes her love him all the more - Jake grins over at Amy when he notices her looking, lifting their daughter’s hand in a tiny wave as she moves towards the two of them.  

“Hey babe,” he says as Amy nears him, lifting his index finger to his lips in a shhh motion as they fall into step together.  “Sorry it took me so long.  Bubba took a little longer than normal to settle, so she and I just kinda hung out for a little bit over by the flower beds, and then she totally zonked out.”

Craning her neck, Amy looks over at the tiny sleeping bundle resting against Jake’s chest, and she cannot help but feel her heart smile at the sight.  “My god she’s adorable.”

“Ugh, I know right?  Like, obviously we were going to make a cute baby.  But this?  It’s like a whole other level of cuteness.  I literally cannot handle it.”

Slowing down her pace, Amy waits until she and Jake are standing on the outskirts of their family gathering before leaning in for another look, this time leaving a gentle kiss against the hat that sat on top of their daughter’s head.  (Truly, there was no way anyone could have prepared her for how endearingly tiny all of their little girl’s clothing would turn out to be.  Tiny hats!  Teeny tiny socks!  Ruffle covered bottoms!  It was all too much, and yet never enough.)  

“Here,”  Jake offers, revealing a plucked daisy; the white petals looking far too small inside his crazily sexy hands.  “We picked this for you.”

With her eyebrows raised in surprise, Amy looks up at Jake with a smile, taking the tiny flower and tucking into the juncture of her ear and hairline.  “You two … are just the sweetest,” she mumbles, grabbing Jake’s hand and bringing it up to leave a kiss against his wedding ring.  He grins in return, resting his hand against her lower back when she frees it, leading Amy gently towards the rest of the guests as lunch begins to be served.  

*

It’s over an hour before Jake and Amy find themselves with a chance to pull away from the others, tidying up the remnants of lunch before standing off to the side and watching their cousins negotiate one last round of playtime before the drive home. 

Resting her head against Jake’s shoulder as his right arm wraps around hers, Amy lets out a contented sigh.  Apart from a brief moment of activity where she’d demanded a bottle, their baby girl had spent the majority of the afternoon asleep against her father’s chest.  Knowing that she was comfortable and safe, while she and Jake sat together with family and caught up on each other’s lives, had relaxed Amy to no end.  

Smiling up at Jake’s phone as he whips it out to take a selfie, Amy nods in approval at the resulting image before remembering the conversation she’d heard earlier.

“You are totally the flavour of the day, by the way.”

Turning his head to the right, Jake studies Amy’s face for a moment before furrowing his brow, replying with a confused “Huh?”

Nodding her chin towards the other women in the park, one side of Amy’s mouth slides upwards into a amused grin.  “Just before you got back from diaper duty, I happened to overhear a couple of girls talking.  And they totally declared you to be the hottest dad around.”  Turning her body towards his, Amy reaches out to toy with the lining of the unbuttoned plaid that he’d thrown over the top of his shirt today.  “I, of course, could not agree more.”  

Shrugging his shoulders, Jake pauses as the information sinks in, then shakes his head.  “Hottest dad, huh?”

Pulling away slightly, Amy looks at him in surprise.  “I thought you knew?”

Jake cocks his head to the side, and she smiles before continuing.  “You’ve had the biggest smile on your face all afternoon, Peralta.  It’s practically stealing the sun’s job, it’s so bright.”

Her husband laughs at the comparison, his left hand reaching out to cradle their daughter’s head as his chest bounces repeatedly.  “Ames,” he responds, letting his right hand slide down Amy’s back before grabbing her left, “I’m out at the park with family on a long weekend off.  I’ve got my baby girl all snuggled up safe and sound, and my gorgeous wife is walking around in the same pink dress I remember peeling off her body on the first day of our honeymoon.  Life is pretty damn good today.  It’s no wonder I’m smiling.”

Amy’s heart stutters a little at Jake’s statement, her bottom lip curling up at the sweet nature of the man she loves.  How she managed to get this lucky, she’ll never understand.  Pushing herself up to her tippy toes, she cranes her neck up towards Jake and pushes a quick kiss against his lips.  “Good save, babe.”

“Not a save so much as it is the truth,”  Jake counters, leaning back down for another kiss.  “I’m the luckiest man alive right now, and that is the only thing I know.”

Cupping his cheek in her hand, Amy matches Jake’s smile with her own.  “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.”  Dipping his head, Jake kisses her once more, then pulls away quickly.  “Wait.  Does this mean … I’m a dilf?”

Twisting her mouth to one side, Amy pretends to consider the obviously correct title before nodding.  “It totally does.  But … only if that means that I’m a milf in return.”

Jake’s forehead leans against hers, and he holds Amy’s gaze as he winks, lowering his voice so that only she can hear his reply.  “I think the events from two nights ago will confirm that is most definitely the case.”

Amy feels the blush begin at the tips of her ears, flooding her cheeks before she has a chance to control it, and Jake chuckles softly at her reaction, running his hand soothingly up and down her back as she rests her head against his shoulder again.  Peeking down at their daughter, Amy takes in the fact that she’s still sleeping and whispers “Your daddy is always finding ways to make mama blush, bubba.  We’ve gotta figure out some ways to counter-attack.”

“Oh, please.  She had me wrapped around her little finger, exactly zero point two seconds after she was born.”

Chuckling softly, Amy nods in agreement.  “Same.  If only she knew the power she has over us.”

A minute snuffle comes out of their daughter’s mouth as if in response, her perfect little lips bunching up into a tiny pout as she nestles closer to Jake’s shirt.  There’s a tiny trail of drool left behind, and like two totally enamoured parents, they both find themselves smiling at the result.  

“Oh yeah, she totally knows.”

Nodding again, Amy wraps her free arm around Jake’s waist, closing her eyes briefly and breathing in the scent of his cologne as she lets the last of the day’s sunlight soak into her skin.  

Truly, this was turning out to be an amazing day.  And she had the strongest instinct that there were a thousand more great days, just like this one, waiting for them in the future.  But the future could wait - because she had everything she needed, right here in her arms.  

[belphegor1982]

…it’s done. Finished. My monster Mummy fic, the one I started in 2003, started publishing in 2004, and left dormant since 2008 – I finally completed it o.O Weirdly (or not), this is the chapter which gave me the most trouble, if you don’t count chapters 16 and 17 (which took me 2 and 16 years to write, respectively). It was hard to say goodbye to this story and these characters, even though I knew I literally just had to get an idea for another story :-/

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23)

Chapter 24: Departure (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

London, September 1937

A little off Paddington Station, almost in Marylebone, was a small pub called the Stars and Crown, its red brick façade almost exactly similar to the others along the street. It was an unassuming little affair Jonathan liked to patronise every now and then, and not just because it happened to be situated not too far from his flat.

It was a balmy mid-September late afternoon and one of the double doors was wide open on the quiet street. Jonathan and Tom were seated by one of the stained-glass windows, drinking – G&T and a ginger beer, respectively – and talking. Jonathan, remembering the promise he’d made after blowing up Hamilton’s lorry, had bought the rounds.

But for small details like the mostly healed-over scratches on Tom’s hands, the old scar in Jonathan’s left palm, and all the subtler little ways the past two decades had changed them, they might as well have been twenty year old students again.

Well, apart from the subject of their conversation.

“I got off easy, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense. You were the only one who tried to fix this bloody disaster. It’s only fair that you didn’t… You know.”

“…Pay for my mistakes?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

Tom gulped a mouthful of ginger beer, still looking glum.

“I suppose – I know – I should be grateful I didn’t end up like Hamilton, at least.”

Jonathan winced.

Charles Hamilton had made it back to England in a slightly better state than he had made it out of the pyramid, but that wasn’t saying much. From what they had heard, he was lucid for about an hour a day, and that was it – and not very coherent at that. Which made the fact that he allegedly hung himself in his cell a week before his highly sensitive trial very suspicious indeed. The man didn’t appear capable of putting on his trousers on his own, let alone do anything as complex as a slipknot.

The Lord Chancellor’s Department had issued a statement half-heartedly lamenting Hamilton’s demise, the newspapers had stayed surprisingly quiet about it, and Evy had fumed for an entire fortnight. And that had been it. Hamilton had taken the gentleman’s way out. Case closed.

At least Gabriel Baine had been tried, convicted, and sent behind bars for a lengthy period of time. Jonathan didn’t particularly care where he was, as long as he could be elsewhere.

Baine had stated a few times that there hadn’t been anything personal about shooting and ordering his men to shoot Jonathan, Rick, and Tom. Jonathan had silently begged to differ. Baine’s shouts of “Kill them” followed by the sudden excruciating pain in his back, not to mention the confusion and terror as he fought not to die and lost, had felt pretty damn personal.

Tom stared into his glass for a while, then looked up with a brighter expression.

“But enough about this fiasco. How’s your family? I seem to remember your sister’s birthday was coming up, you were lookin’ for a present when we bumped into each other at that bazaar. Did you find one, in the end?”

Jonathan perked up. “I did, actually. Got her a signet ring. She seemed to like it.”

Now that memory he would treasure as long as he lived.

An inventory of his pockets had revealed a hodgepodge of small trinkets which he was still trying to trace. The little medallion with the amethyst cameo must be early Regency, stolen by the pygmy mummies from some unfortunate Napoleon soldier’s corpse; the lapis earring was probably from the Ramesside period (a few Rameses had sent their armies to find or reclaim Ahm Shere, Jonathan had found); the couple of gold and silver rings bearing the Roman SPQR were a little incongruous but easy to chalk up to Julius Caesar’s expedition. There were also some 4th Century Persian coins, proving Alexander the Great’s men had also reached Ahm Shere – the Oasis, anyway – and a number of little amulets from various Egyptian expeditions, mostly heart scarabs made of red and green jasper, copper, quartz, bronze, or gold. He hadn’t determined the nature of the green gemstone yet, saving it for last.

Jonathan had been so excited by his find that he hadn’t gambled a single object. Tracing their origins took time, but he had not even told Evy about it yet. Instead he had not only called on every scrap of expertise he had concerning treasure, but also on every book he could lay his hands on. Evy would have been very surprised – not to mention highly suspicious – if she learned how much time he had been spending at the British Library lately.

He had always enjoyed a good riddle. For some reason this one looked promising enough to justify doing some actual work for. Besides, having the artefacts authenticated meant he would be able to get a much better price selling them.

The only thing he had parted with was the (probable) Napoleon coin, the soft gold nibbled almost beyond recognition by the pygmy mummies’ teeth. Another look at it the morning after his resurrection had given him an idea.

Before they left the Medjai camp, Jonathan had obtained from Ardeth a sketch of Nefertiri’s personal cartouche and the address of a talented goldsmith in Cairo; once back in the city, he had wandered down to Kerdasa, the coin and the folded paper safe in the inside pocket of his (whole and clean) jacket.

Just before he reached the little shop, however, he heard a yelp and a startled cry, and was knocked off his feet by something large and hairy. His vision was filled by long camel’s lashes and lips drawn back on long yellow teeth in what Jonathan might have taken as a smile if he hadn’t known better.

Why did every single camel have to have such foul breath, he wondered.

“ʾAhlan1, Djem,” muttered Jonathan with a sigh that was half annoyance, and half amused resignation.

And was astonished when the camel immediately disappeared from view, replaced with a familiar face. Satiah’s big brown eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Oh, it’s you, bāša2. Hello,” she said with a smile.

Jonathan got up and dusted himself off, irritation quickly fading away. The jacket could survive a little dirt; besides, Satiah’s smile as she hung on to Djem’s bit had lost some of its previous shyness. Considering how fearful she had been the last time – and who could fault her for that, really – it almost made getting knocked over by a foul-smelling bag of hair and wind worth it.

“Good morning, Miss Satiah,” he said in Arabic, picking up his hat from the ground so he could salute her with a flourish. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide a giggle. “It’s a stroke of luck finding you, really. I wanted to thank you for your help the other day, and for, er…”

He reached his limits of the language, and finished in English, “I mean, thank you for returning my wallet to my sister. That was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Satiah said in Arabic, her cheekbones a little pink. “I’m glad you and your friends got away from those men.”

Jonathan’s smile slipped a notch or two, but he rallied quickly enough.

“Yes,” he said just a little wryly, “we did, at that. In the end.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve just reached my destination,” he added, pointing to a door above which hung a sign saying something about gold in painted Arabic script, “so I’m going to wish you a—”

“You’re going to see Cousin Ashar?” Satiah interrupted, her eyes shining. Immediately afterwards she clamped both hands on her mouth and cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Small world, eh?”

She gave a small smile and led the way into the shop, stopping only to tie Djem to a post.

Ashar – the goldsmith Ardeth had recommended – was a tall, wiry man with a long face, his hair going grey at the temples. He welcomed Satiah warmly and sent her to the backroom to get what she came for. Before she closed the door, she gave Jonathan a little friendly wave, which he returned with a smile. Ashar gave him an odd but not hostile look, eyebrows raised.

Jonathan placed his order, left the coin, and was about to leave, when Ashar called him back, frowning slightly.

“You’re one of the O’Connells, aren’t you.”

Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed as though of its own accord.

“You could say that, yes,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Because word of the second raising of Anubis’ Army made it to Cairo recently.”

This time Jonathan’s mouth dropped open and remained like that for a handful of seconds. Ashar gave something that was almost a smile.

“Not all of us wear the ritual tattoos, you know.”

“I do know,” Jonathan articulated with only the slightest difficulty. Dr Hakim was a Medjai, and his face was devoid of any tattoo as well. Dr Bey had been the same, now that he thought of it. His gaze went to the door that led to the backroom. “Satiah, too…?”

“Yes. But her mother’s family has lived in Cairo for fifty years. The girl has never seen the desert. She will get good schooling and find a trade, inshallah3. The time for living legends is coming to an end.” Ashar looked at the cartouche Ardeth had drawn for reference. “I know what this says. Who the name belonged to. Your commission is either a hollow trinket or a great gift.”

Jonathan drew himself up and said, as dignified as he could, “I’m rather hoping for the latter.”

His own signet ring had been gambled and lost in some card game or another, years ago. His parents would have been so disappointed had they still been alive. The least he could do was make sure his sister had a ring of her own, one that paid tribute to the woman she was and the woman she had been, three millennia ago.

Evy’s reaction when she opened his present proved him right, and even surprised him.

She stared into the box long enough for Jonathan’s brain to go into overdrive. Her silence made him panic ever so slightly. Then she looked up at him, her eyes very bright, lower lip trembling.

Jonathan barely suppressed the need to shuffle like a schoolboy and buried his hands into his pockets, hoping his face didn’t give too much away.

“I know I wasn’t… there – or, you know – then,” he said, almost sheepishly. “But I thought… Well. I hoped you’d like it. The cartouche must be right, I got it from Ardeth, and the goldsmith was a bloody good artist, as it turned out, but—”

Evy cut him off by launching herself at him and flinging her arms around his neck, throwing him off balance. As usual, Jonathan stumbled, but managed to catch her in the end.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you, Jon.”

If his smile was a little wobbly, his eyes a little moist, nobody seemed to notice. Rick and Alex had picked up the little box; Rick’s face lit up in strange recognition, while Alex deciphered the cartouche slowly and grinned.

“Nice one, Uncle Jon. That’s a pretty good present.”

“Yes, about that,” said Jonathan irrepressibly while Evy broke away and wiped her eyes, “I hope you realise that this is the last birthday present you’ll ever get from me, old mum. Since – judging by your reaction – nothing I could give to you could ever top this, I have decided to simply refrain from trying.”

Evy had slapped his arm and called him an idiot with a big smile, then hugged him again. And he had hugged her back, just because he was alive and able to.

The ring hadn’t left her finger since.

“Jon?”

Jonathan was abruptly pulled back to the present, the Stars and Crown, and Tom’s curious smile across the table.

“Hm?”

“You were a thousand miles away.”

“Sorry about that. What about you and Lizzie? Dorset been treating you well, I hope?”

Tom shook his head with a smile.

“It has, sort of, but we’re moving to Oxford. Did Liz tell you she’d been replaced while she was gone?”

Jonathan nodded. Lizzie disappearing for two weeks had not gone unnoticed in her little town, but since the police didn’t have the beginning of a clue and nobody was able to reach Tom, they had moved on to other things and her boss at the telephone exchange had hired someone else. There had been a subtle but definite irony in Lizzie’s letter as she described her and Tom’s return and the scrutiny they’d had to stand up to in order to prove her husband hadn’t killed her and stashed her body away – or vice versa – before his former Chamber of Horus hierarchy stepped in to explain things.

“Well, they needed an operator at the exchange on Pembroke Street. And you know the interview I had this morning at Whitehall? I won’t be too far, as it turns out.” Tom took a deep breath, then said with one of the goofiest smiles Jonathan had ever seen on his face, “I’ll be workin’ from the Bodleian.”

This could only mean one thing. Jonathan grinned.

“The British Antique Research Department accepted your application, didn’t they? Congratulations, old chap. That’s fantastic.”

He downed a mouthful of his G&T and laid an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand.

“Haven’t been to Oxford in almost fifteen years,” he said thoughtfully. “Not since Evy finished her degree. I wonder if the city’s changed.”

“It’s Oxford,” said Tom quietly, looking like his mind was straying down the same path Jonathan’s thoughts were. “I can’t imagine it’ll ever change that much.”

Jonathan smiled quickly into his palm. Then he raised his glass.

“To the two of you, then. And to publicans hopefully not holding grudges, otherwise we’re still banned from half the pubs in Oxfordshire.”

Tom snorted and raised his own glass, now almost empty. “To the three of us, and testing that theory sometime. And let’s not wait two decades this time,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

The two glasses clinked.

For just a second, the decades fell away, and Jonathan was twenty years younger.

Lizzie was already waiting for them on the platform by the time they finished their drinks and walked back to Paddington. She carried a shopping bag that looked entirely too small compared to what should be expected of a woman who’d just spent a few hours in the old metropolis. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say you planned to go to Harrods while we were in London?”

“I also said I only needed a new suit and the latest Agatha Christie novel,” she said, light teasing in her tone. “The next one will be out sometime in November, I think. Have you heard what the title will be? Death on the Nile, of all things.”

Jonathan gave a mock shudder. “I might just give this one a miss, then.”

The train’s whistle pierced the air, cutting the rest of the conversation short. Tom picked up his wife’s bag and Lizzie turned to Jonathan with a smile.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” she said softly.

The use of his first name had always been a signal that the game was paused and the masks were off, as clear as a referee blowing halftime. Jonathan answered in kind, his throat just a little tight.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

They hadn’t even actually said ‘goodbye’ last time. They had just stood there, she leaning out the train window in her brand-new nurse’s uniform, he and Tommy on the platform amidst the soot, the steam, and the throng of people, until the train departed. The memory was an old hurt that still twinged sometimes, like his left shoulder when the weather was bad.

He cleared his throat and smiled.

“See you on the next Christie novel, then?”

What Lizzie did next might have shocked twenty year old Jonathan, who thought he knew her well, and as such very much surprised his current self, who had a little too much experience of the world to truly get shocked anymore. She took his hands in hers, flying in the face of propriety and what had been her rules of conduct in public, and kissed him on the cheek near the corner of his mouth with an aching sweetness. The old Lizzie, so shy and unsure of her self-worth that she was terrified of what people may think, would have been appalled.

It had taken a while for Jonathan to truly grasp how much the years had changed Tommy and start thinking of him as ‘Tom’ to account for that change. Through this apparently simple gesture – simple only to someone who didn’t know Elizabeth Ferguson, née McAllister – Lizzie became ‘Liz’ in an instant.

“I can’t bear to think you died,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “When I think… Without that – that book…”

She took a deep breath. Tom caught Jonathan’s eye and gave a small nod. Of course he had told her. Knowing Liz, she’d take the secret to her grave anyway.

“Take care of yourself, Jonathan, please. The world would be so dreadfully dull without you in it,” she added with a tentative smile, to which he replied with a smile of his own, one that hopefully looked steadier.

“Likewise.”

Her hands tightened around his. Just for a second or two, he softly ran his thumb on the back of her hand, an echo of the old intimacy that used to bind them; then their gazes fell away, their hands separated, and the moment was over.

Tom held out his hand with a smile, and Jonathan’s mind was whisked back to that sunny afternoon in Cairo, almost two months ago, and a chance encounter that had reshuffled the cards in a major way. Tom’s handshake was slower this time, steadier, warmer.

“Bye, Jon.”

“Cheers, Tom,” said Jonathan, determined but failing to swallow the lump in his throat. “Have a pint at the Oxford Arms for me.”

Tom nodded, and added his left hand to the handshake, not saying anything. He didn’t need to. As usual – almost – everything he meant to say was on his face and in his eyes for the world to see.

The train let out a burst of steam. Tom hastily let go and made for the train door, stopping only to help Liz aboard. Jonathan looked wistfully at the train for a minute and was about to turn around and go home when he heard his name being called over the din of the locomotive and the running gears chugging into motion.

Tom and Liz were leaning out of a window, wearing identical wide smiles. Liz was waving, her other arm wrapped tightly around her husband. The light in her eyes and her curly hair whipping around her face made her look like the girl from Jonathan’s memories.

“Send my love to Evelyn!” she called. “And say hello to your brother-in-law for me! You’re all welcome anytime for tea!”

“I’ll make sure they know!” shouted Jonathan as the train gathered speed.

The blatant disregard of platform etiquette made several passers-by turn and stare at him with a touch of glower. Jonathan ignored them and kept his eyes on the departing train. Tom’s and Liz’s beaming smiles remained in his head a long time after they had gone back inside the carriage.

He would see them again. This time he was determined not to leave the possibility of a reunion to chance and the vagaries of life. They had been through too much – both twenty years and two months ago – to just go their separate ways.

Besides, Jonathan mused as he left Paddington behind to wade through the bustling streets, he still had some research to do before he set out to sell the objects he had found at Ahm Shere. The Bodleian Library was as good as the British Library; at least he didn’t risk meeting Evy there and being subjected to her prodding curiosity, which he wasn’t ready to face yet. At least not before he unravelled the mystery of the little gemstone. It looked like an emerald and felt vaguely familiar, as though he had seen it somewhere or heard a story about it.

This required some investigation, if only to be prudent.

After all, he was particularly well placed to know that you can only go so far on fairy tales and hokum alone.

THE END

.⅋.

1(أَهْلًا): informal “hello”, “hi”.

2باشا (bāša): “sir”, “mister” in Egyptian Arabic.

3ʾin šāʾa llāhu, (إِنْ شَاءَ ٱللَّٰهُ‎) – literally “if God has willed it”, “God willing”

Don’t look for the Stars and Crown in Paddington, or the Oxford Arms in Oxford. Unlike the Turf Tavern they’re entirely fictional.

Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile was indeed published on 1st November 1937. I couldn’t resist, I mean, come on ;o)

The Bodleian Library is the main research library in Oxford and one of the oldest in Europe.

If you’re wondering, yes, that little gemstone might be the basis for a sequel of sorts, but I haven’t really started to plot it. Considering my track record for these things you might see that story sometime in the next decade and a half :P

Writing and publishing Fairy Tales and Hokum has been such an adventure. I was 21 when I started writing it; now I’ll be 38 in four days. Much as I miss the old crowd of 2003-2006, reposting and updating the story here on AO3 allowed me to know some awesome people. I’m so glad these characters somehow – FINALLY – sneaked back into my head and my heart again with their quirks, their (updated) backstories, and their voices and allowed me to finish this story the way I wanted to. Like I’ve said before, whenever you started reading this, I hope you had a good time now that you’ve reached the end. If you’ve read and left a signed comment – if you’ve read and left an anonymous comment – if you’ve read and left no comment at all – know that I wrote this for you and I hope some of it made you smile.

Take care of yourselves, love you all, and see you on the next fic? :o)

[nomattertheoceans]

Feysand prompt - the jacuzzi

Soooooo @quakeriders​, let’s talk. I know you ask for this like more than a month ago, but LISTEN --

No I don’t really have an excuse actually xD I just hope you’ll enjoy it!! It has the Inner Circle and guests, it has the Jacuzzi, and the summer night, and they party, and Feysand “getting busy”... ;) It gets very NSFW, so be warned.

This is part of my Feysand fic “I made you a promise” universe, and is a direct follow-up to this prompt that I wrote for @awesome--username :)

And also… @quakeriders I think I remember you telling me your birthday was around the 21st or 22nd? Sooo Happy Birthday!! 

Feyre moved into the townhouse a week later. Packing her place didn’t take long, seeing as her stuff consisted of maybe four or five boxes of clothes, a few books, and one or two kitchen pots. That didn’t stop their friends from coming to “help.”

This is how they found themselves carrying her boxes through the jam-packed subway on a Saturday afternoon.

“Eight people to carry ten boxes, seriously,” Rhys grumbled under his breath as the subway came to another stop, one of many before they were to make it to the townhouse. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re just grumpy because you had to take the subway,” Clare said, punching him lightly in the arm. “It won’t kill you.”

“No it won't, but it would have taken a whole of thirty minutes to get everything in my car and bring it over. I can’t believe we’re wasting all this time.”

Sitting across from him, Feyre and Cassian laughed in unisson.

“Come on, you guys moving in together is a big deal, we all wanted to be here,” said Mor, standing beside Rhys. “Plus, we couldn’t miss the opportunity to enjoy free beer and pizza!”

“Oh, because we have to buy you pizzas now?” He asked his cousin, but Elain was the one answering.

“It’s a tradition Rhysand. Moving always comes with pizza and beer for the helpers.”

He rolled his eyes, but Feyre could see a small smile inching its way onto her boyfriend’s lips. She nudged him with her foot, and said:

“Come on, stop being grumpy, we’ll make a party of it. It’s been a while since someone got drunk in the jacuzzi!”

He laughed out loud at that, and they kept on chatting until they reached the right subway stop.

***

Putting away the boxes was over about as quickly as packing them had been. Elain arranged her sister’s books beside Rhysand’s, Mor helped Feyre organized the dresser to fit her clothes, and Cassian and Azriel started a sword fight with wooden spoons while they were putting away her very few kitchen utensils. 

Then there was the long process of ordering pizzas who would please everyone, an excruciating thirty minutes during which Rhys had to rewrite the order five times because someone had changed their mind.

But finally, they were all chilling out on his rooftop terrace, pizzas and beers being passed around, the loud clubbing music coming out of his laptop. Mor’s playlist, obviously.

Not his terrace. Their terrace, Rhys thought as he took in his girlfriend lounging in the jacuzzi with Cassian and Alyss, a bottle in her hand, eyes closed as she laughed at one of his brother’s jokes, her neck resting on the edge of the tub. Gods, she was gorgeous. And she was living with him. Starting tonight, they would see each other everyday, he would get to hear her singing off-tune when she was painting, he would get to see her with messy hair before they went to bed.

Asking her to move in had been a spur-of-the-moment impulse, but once she’d said yes, nothing else had made sense. Of course they would live together. He didn’t even know how he had been able to wait more than ten months to ask her.

As if she could feel his eyes on her, Feyre looked at him and gave him a soft smile, one that he knew was intended only to him, one in which he could feel all the love she gave him everyday. He smiled back and got up from the chair he’d been sitting in, walking towards her.

“Rhys! Nice of you to join us!” Cassian shouted, clearly already drunk. “I was having way too much fun by myself with these lovely ladies!”

“I’m not getting into the tub, Cass,” he answered as he approached, putting his drink on the ground to encircle Feyre with his arms. She looked up and grinned at him, and he took a minute to admire her body inside the water, her skin covered only by a black bikini, her long, lovely legs laying down in front of her. She moved a hand to his face and plunged her fingers into his hair, pulling him towards her.

He didn’t know if there would ever come a day when he would get tired of her kisses. Their lips met and started moving slowly against each other. But he could feel what she wanted, and within seconds, her tongue was brushing against his lips, deepening their kiss. He felt a fire building inside him under her touch, and immediately felt the urge to climb beside her inside the water.

“Ahem… Guys, keep it PG, alright? We’re still here with you, remember?” Cassian interrupted, and Rhys felt Feyre chuckle against his mouth and move away from him.

“Sorry, Cass.”

Rhys settled behind her outside the tub, keeping an arm around her in the water as she resumed her conversation with Alyss about some new movie they were going to see. He looked around, from Mor and Clare dancing wildly in front of the stereo, to Azriel and Elain talking quietly in one corner of the rooftop. They didn’t need that many people to move out from Feyre’s old place, but he sure as hell was glad they’d come.

***

Everybody went home eventually. Alyss left first to free her babysitter, and she was followed by Elain around midnight. Azriel offered to escort her home, and they left the others to party until much later. Mor and Clare, who’d been slowly growing closer during the evening, also left together, clearly headed to Mor’s place a couple of blocks down the road. From the terrace, Cassian and Feyre watched them walk away in a very tight embrace, their laughs resonating in the quiet street.

Cassian was the last one to leave, practically pushed out the door by Rhys after a good hour and a half of talking about the new tattoo designs he was creating. Leaning on the frame of the front door, Feyre laughed at the sight of Rhys struggling to get his brother in a taxi, and turned back inside the house, waiting for him.

After a minute, strong arms encircled her from behind, and her boyfriend’s fingers intertwined with hers. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin as he whispered in her ear.

“Hey roomie.”

She couldn’t stop a grin from forming on her lips at the words. They were living together. Officially. After so many months of spending as much time as they could together, they had finally taken the final step. His house was her new home, and she could feel her heart racing at the thought.

“Hey,” she answered, letting go of his hands to turn around in his arms.

He kissed her lips quickly. “Are you happy?”

She waited for a minute before answering. “I don’t know.” The worried look on his face was worth every second she waited to continue. “I mean, I was expecting getting to spend some time in the hottub with my boyfriend, but instead I had to stay in there all alone, I don’t know what to think about that…”

She gave him a mischievous smile, and he chuckled. “Oh you know, the night doesn’t have to end now. I would hate for you to spend your first night here disappointed.” And with that, he let go of her and started climbing the stairs, losing clothe after clothe on the way.

She followed after him, and soon he was turning the jacuzzi back on and climbing inside in nothing but his underwear. She took off her dress, climbed after him, and innocently sat on the opposite side of the tub, a shy smile on her lips. She wanted to play tonight. Rhys stared at her for a moment, clearly knowing what she wanted but trying to see if she would break first. As if that would happen. And sure enough, after a mere few seconds -

“You’re not coming closer?”

“Why would I?”

“Because you asked me to come here with you.”

“I never said I wanted to cozy up with you, though. We have all this space, might as well enjoy it, don’t you think?”

His smile didn’t falter. He knew what she was doing. “Sure, whatever makes you happy.”

They fell silent, staring at each other relentlessly for a good minute, the night silent except for the noise of the bubbles around them. The bright light coming from the tub mixed with the warmest shade of yellow coming from the other lamps scattered around the terrace, and all of the shadows surrounding them worked perfectly to underline Rhys’ toned chest and muscled arms.

She wanted to win this game they were playing. She wanted him to cave and finally take her in his arms, she wanted him to whisper sweet nothings in her ear about how irresistible she was.

But more than any of this, she wanted to touch him.

Without dropping her gaze, she moved to him, and straddled him. He smirked and let his hands drift underwater to find her hips, steadying her against him. Immediately, she let her fingers roam his chest, all the way up to his shoulders, his neck, his hair. He lowered his mouth on her neck and started scraping his teeth against her skin, not quite touching her, not quite pulling away.

“You lost, Darling,” he whispered in her ear, and the feeling of his breath sent shivers down her spine, all the way to her core.

“I don’t care,” she answered, and she turned his face to capture his lips with hers. Their kiss was instantly passionate and she moaned against him as his hands left her hips to move up to her hair, untying her hairband and tangling his fingers in her hair to keep her against him. She let a hand slide back down to his chest, and slowly grazed his skin until she reached the edge of his underwear, slipping inside it to grab him softly.

He groaned into her mouth, and tightened his grip around her body, massaging her hair and her neck with his fingers. Feyre felt a delicious warmth spread in her belly, and she was thankful for being seated on top of him, because she wasn’t sure her legs would have held her up much longer.

Especially when he let go of her lips to whisper “this is clearly in the way,” as he started working on untying the top of her bikini. She chuckled, but didn’t stop stroking him, and she could feel his hand trembling as he took off her swimsuit. The next second, one of his hand was caressing her breasts, and the other was travelling south to rub the inside of her thighs. She let out a gasp of pleasure as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, and plunged inside her.

“It wouldn’t be nice to let you have all the fun now would it?” He breathed against her skin, at the same second his fingers started moving in her, in the pattern he knew drove her crazy everytime.

“Rhys,” she found herself gasping against him, unable to restrain herself under his touch. Unable to focus on anything other than what he was doing to her, she linked her arms around his neck and let him drive her to the edge of the world, as a rush of pleasure crashed onto her, making her moan and gasp and cry out his name under the starry sky of Velaris.

After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the blissful waves recede, and her breathing started to slow down. She moved her head to the side, and found Rhys looking at her with nothing but love and desire in his eyes. She could still feel the hardness of him brushing between her legs, and immediately felt the need for him inside her. But Rhys seemed to understand her intention, and he talked before she could say anything.

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?”

She smiled, and only answered: “To our bedroom.”

His eyes softened at the correction, and he gave her the most tender kiss she could have wanted in that moment.

“Come, my lady, let’s get to our bedroom.”

[unheardalonefucker]

I knew this girl back in middle school, she’d invited me to her birthday sleepover and I was bullied the whole night to the point I was sobbing when my sister came to pick me up. I’d left my favorite shirt there and I never saw it again. This girl wouldn’t give it back. She left our school and I thought that was the end of it.

I don’t remember how but we ended up fb friends/insta mutals. One day she sent me a message and was trying to get to know me. I thought from the get go she was interested in me, I wasn’t out publicly so most people interpreted me as a lesbian, which she identified as at one point too. So I was cautious but she was respectful when I came out to her. After a while our conversations got past friendship and we started to see each other. She’d stay with a friend down the street from me for a few days and then a few at mine so she could be around as much as possible. We had to keep things lowkey bc I wasn’t out. Things were great and we had a lot of fun. Inside jokes, going through ikea and buying weird dog throw pillows, discussions about Bigfoot, shit like that. We had fun until she started pressing me about sex. I was pre-t and very insecure. I hated my anatomy and I didn’t want to get into that yet. I told her I wasn’t ready. She “dumped” (quotes bc she wouldn’t call us exclusive, she said I waited too long to ask her) me over it, I spent a week ditching school and crying. We were still talking every day. She told me if I was ready we could try again. The sex topic wasn’t discussed. Next week was Valentine’s Day. I spent the weekend with her. A family member of hers drove me up there. No way to get out. I didn’t drive, didn’t have money, and a parent who wouldn’t pick me up anywhere further than a mile from home. She’d trapped me. I got to her place and she immediately fell asleep. She wasn’t super engaged with me. She mentioned offhandedly that she understood I was uncomfortable being touched, but her mom suggested I do things to her. I told her I’d think about it.

She didn’t spend much one on one time with me. We hung out with her cousins and she spent a while on the phone with her ex girlfriend. She was hostile towards me until I agreed to touch her. She put on a pandora station in “our” favorite genre. Finally it was too much pressure for me and I agreed. She made me stick my fingers in her. Multiple times. When she finished I cried. I told her it was because I loved her so much but I felt this awful pressure in my chest. I felt nauseous. She went to the bathroom. I sat on the end of her bed and stared at myself in the mirror. I felt different. I kept trying to tell myself I felt different because everyone does when they lose their virginity. I tried so hard to convince myself. I looked at myself and i just felt empty. She made me do it again the next night. She dumped me later that week. It was excruciating. In the following weeks I’d started to recognize some of the crazy shit she’d done. When we started dating I posted a bunch of shit on my tumblr, pics and posts and shit. As soon as I started posting her, I started getting asks from random girls wanting to date me, some incredibly aggressive. I’ve checked them many times since and those blogs were only ever active when I was dating her. She TALKED TO HER EX FOR HOURS ON VALENTINES DAY!!! But within days of our breakup she was posting snapchats of her cuddling a woman. Her boss. They looked more comfortable than people dating for a few days. Obviously there was overlap. Our mutual friends boyfriend “stranded” himself in her city and had to stay with her once. Neither of them were reachable for a while… our mutual friend was introduced to me by her. So when both relationships inevitably ended, me and her started hanging out and talking shit about our exes. One time my ex and her gf ran into me and our friend at the mall. She was shocked we were hanging out without her. It was the last time I saw her in person. A while later she’d sent me a few anonymous messages and I was not kind about telling her to leave me alone.

At that point I hadn’t even accepted that what happened was nonconsensual. I was just devastated I was dumped and cheated on. It took me over a year to recognize that. Coercion is not consent.

I haven’t felt safe in a long time. I have all my socials private. I don’t post a whole lot of info anyways. I don’t accept any follow requests unless I recognize the person. I can’t have a normal sex life. I heard a few seconds of this song and now, over 6 years later, and I’m fucking shaking. I hate her so much. She’s taken so much from me. She destroyed parts of me that I’ll never get back. She stole so much. I hate her so much and I feel like if I ever see her again I’m gonna have to be institutionalized because I just can’t see her face without feeling like I’m imploding.

I still occasionally check on her socials. I only check so I know what state she’s in. She moved after we dated. I need to know if she’s in my state so I can be cautious and prepared. Too much has made me afraid to exist in public. She’s taken so much from me and I can’t see her ever again. I can’t even hear a song without wanting to die. I hate how much she’s ruined. And she gets to just go on with her life. She probably never thinks of me anymore. She destroyed my life and she has no idea and probably doesn’t care.

I don’t feel like I’m here right now.

[little-narnian-notes]

First Light

Request: Could I have a Caspian x Reader, where they have been friends since children and after the dawn treader the reader leaves and Caspian regrets not telling her how he feels. She comes back to visit Narnia and meets Caspian again and he tells her how he feels and she feels the same and they kiss, can you make the scene like the Rain Scene in The Notebook? Thank you!! (Maybe she could be a princess of Archenland).

This is also very late and I’m super sorry :/ This summer has been way busier then I expected and so I’ve not gotten much time to write lengthy oneshots for requests I’ve gotten.

I’ve also never seen The Notebook, so? I’m not sure what the Rain Scene is, so I hope the kissing scene is just as romantic as you wanted it to be.

—

The first weeks aboard the Dawn Treader were nothing like what King Caspian had expected. Of course he knew how to navigate and run a ship - everybody royal did. What made this so difficult was that everybody was in everybody else’s way. All day, every day, and even during the night. Really, the one creature comfort that Caspian had was the fact that as King, and ship captain, he had his own private quarters.

Caspian was a social person, and he liked being around others. But he wasn’t used to being on a ship and not being able to move around as much as he liked. Space was limited, food and water were limited, and every day the ship either seemed to be of an alright size or too damn small, depending on his mood.

He couldn’t complain, though. If there wasn’t so much camaraderie with his crew, Caspian wasn’t sure what he would have done. Searching for his father’s lost friends would have been excruciating if he and his crew didn’t share a tight bond.

“And have you find yourself a wife in those three years?” Lucy asked him playfully. She and Edmund - and their dreadful cousin Eustace, who Caspian was determined to not think about - were dry and aboard the Dawn Treader. All were dried off and in clean, Narnian clothes.

Caspian smiled, quick and soft and tightly. “None who have compared with your sister.”

The talk evolved into lost lords and updates about Narnia, but Caspian’s mind was still lost on why he hadn’t found a wife. It was true that no woman he’d met thus far could ever compare to Queen Susan the Gentle. It was also true that he’d met a few worthy competitors, but ultimately he and whatever lady of the week he’d met weren’t right for each other. For one reason or another.

Caspian had had feelings for Susan. He couldn’t deny that, but the truth was also that she was someone he could have fallen very much in love with, and he’d never been in love with her when she and her three siblings had been here four years ago. Caspian had played vaguely with the idea of what could happen if she’d stayed. But, no. Susan was from another time, a better time. He wasn’t sure if she’d have wanted to stay with a boy-king.

Besides, there was Y/N to think about.

“Cas! You’re really going? On the Dawn Treader?” Y/N asked. She sounded breathless even though she’d not exercised at all today.

Caspian looked up at her. He and Y/N had been friends since . . . well, he couldn’t remember how long. To him, it was just an accepted fact that they’d always been in each other’s lives, and best friends. “Why wouldn’t I be going?” Caspian was confused and unsure and felt more then a little bit off-kilter. “I said in my coronation I’d go, once Narnia was at peace.”

Y/N quirked her dark red lips. They looked like they’d been neatly stained with cherry juice. “I don’t know. I just supposed you’d stay here a bit longer. I’m going back to my home soon.”

She lived in Archenland. When Caspian’s uncle Miraz had been alive, he had planned to betroth the two of them. Before Prunaprismia had given birth to a son, Caspian had always assumed that when he was older, he’d likely marry someone like Y/N. Children didn’t much understand the concept of marriage, though. He’d always thought they’d just be friends who lived together and ruled together.

Prunaprismia had given birth to a son, though, and then the revolution in Narnia happened. The reign of Miraz came to an end, and Caspian was crowned king. Y/N hadn’t been in Narnia; she’d been busy in Archenland. A year after his coronation (which she’d attended heavily guarded), Caspian started to realize that he’d suddenly and awkwardly fallen in love with her. It made sense. He’d always felt like he was an odd duck for never really being attracted to women. Even his attraction to Queen Susan had been shallow, in retrospect.  

But Y/N and himself? It just made sense. She was the one who held his heart and really knew him. Y/N with her tanned skin and soft hair, a voice that made him implode inside like a meteor had crashed into his body system.

Caspian faced off against sea serpents, slave traders, invisible jumping small men, and the green mist with Edmund and Lucy by his side, and Eustace in the air. It was still hard to believe he’d actually been turned into a dragon. One by one, the lost lords of Telmar were found, and their swords recovered. It was difficult to figure out exactly what to do with them after each misadventure, but after restocking the ship’s provisions and supplies, some of the lords came along. Some of the other lords decided to stay in whatever town Caspian found them in, saying that they could wait for him to double-back.

They said it made sense logistically to accompany him back to Narnia, not to the end of the world and then back home. Caspian was loathe to do that, but they had a point.

So he kept pushing on, going further and further into uncharted territories.

You were nervous. You were worried for Caspian. Once the Kings and Queens of Old returned to Narnia, you knew you wouldn’t be seeing a lot of your childhood friend. There was a lot for him to sort through and figure out.

As a result, the two of you were left to send letters to each other, though that had grown infrequent. The letters you received were long and detailed, but few and far between. Caspian had grown up, and had had to shoulder a lot of new responsibilities very quickly.

The same could be said for you too, honestly.

“You don’t suppose he’s just - off finding new adventures and other people?” you asked Lasareen. Las was your lady-in-waiting, and the two of you were sewing a silk dress for you.

She just laughed, threw a braid of her own dark hair over her one exposed shoulder. “Perhaps, Y/N. But surely that’s expected. Caspian will encounter new people and find new lands. I imagine he might even find some new territory to add to Narnia’s.”

That wasn’t what you meant. What if Caspian had time while ashore to find some woman to fall in love with? That was the last thing you wanted. You’d been in love with him since you turned thirteen, and were convinced no other man would do.

“Maybe.” Your tone was a little bit more short and frosty; Las picked up on it. The atmosphere in your spacious room changed slightly. Neither of you commented on it. That had been happened a lot lately, you picking fights where you didn’t to do so.

Lasareen shifted. “He’ll come back. He doesn’t really have much time to do anything besides fulfill his coronation oath.”

You shrugged. “I suppose so.” Maybe Las was right. Caspian wouldn’t have time to talk to many people besides his crew . . . right?

The conversation soon changed to new fabrics you both wanted to buy at the next market, but your mind stayed fixed on your long-time friend. If he wasn’t going to be falling in love, then what exactly was he doing? Your heart seized up for a minute. There was always the possibility he’d die, but it wasn’t something you liked to think about.

All you could do was wait, and wait, and wait for him. Endlessly.

When they reached the shores of Aslan’s Country, the regret slammed through Caspian. He’d never really told Y/N how he felt. He’d spent his whole life covering up his feelings, thinking they were obvious.

But how obvious could they have been when she’d never even hinted she felt the same way?

Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace walked through parted waters, back to their Other Country, and Reepicheep sailed beyond the water to see what Aslan kept there. Caspian felt their absence already and keenly in his heart. Like his heart was scarring and wounded. He had no way to fix that, and wasn’t sure what to do.

He tried not to cry and succeeded.

Caspian winced, as he rowed back to the Dawn Treader. Things felt oddly colder now. He had fulfilled his oath. The lost lords were found. And Narnia had just lost four Friends. So much sacrifice in just a few hours, in a way, for him to succeed.

If it was too late to tell Y/N how he felt, when they returned to Narnia, Caspian knew part of him would regret ever leaving. Seven months was a long time to leave a princess, especially one he’d once been betrothed too. She could have easily found another betrothed and married him by now.

The voyage back to Narnia was much less eventful. Caspian wondered how he’d manage. He’d never see Lucy and Edmund again, not in this lifetime. Maybe that meant life would be more peaceful . . . on the other hand, Eustace would still be able to come back. Perhaps that meant Aslan had future plans for the two of them?

Caspian wanted to focus on that, but the pain of losing his friends - and the potential loss of Y/N - kept distracting him. He didn’t want to focus on anything sometimes, and then those were the only topics he could think about.

You had arrived in Narnia a few days ago when you heard the bells. Golden banners were being raised to fly - that meant someone was arriving in Narnia from a trip. Your heart leapt a bit. Maybe it was Caspian?

“Your highness?” Lasareen looked at you. “We should go see who’s come. I wonder if it isn’t King Caspian and his crew.” For once she was thinking the same as you.

“We could give him - them - a welcome surprise,” you said, breathless. After setting down your tea and picked at scone, the two of your hurried down out of the tea room and across a few rooms.

People were shouting and waving, cheering even, and the two of you exchanged a look. Adrenaline shot through your body. You felt light-headed. He was back; he was really back. The people wouldn’t look this overjoyed for just anybody.

That was about when you saw Caspian, walking back towards Cair Paravel, his crew behind him.

“Princess Y/N,” Caspian said, startled. He’d seen her standing near the entrance to the throne room, and wondered briefly at first if it was a mirage. How could she be here? Was it possible in any capacity - but no. Y/N wouldn’t have been able to leave Archenland purely just to see him. “It’s been too long,” he managed to say.

She laughed, and it twisted a dagger through his heart. How long had been since he’d heard that?
“Almost four years, King Caspian,” Y/N replied.

Her hair was braided and twisted elaborately to resemble a flower; decorative and sparkly things shone in her hair. She was more beautiful then Caspian remembered. It made him embarrassed to smell like the sea and leather and his own sweat. “Give me a few moments to change and bathe, Princess,” he finally said. “Perhaps after we could talk more over dinner.”

Caspian didn’t want to think about his royal duties just then. All he wanted was to see his old friend again.

You looked at Caspian, chancing your glances for when you were relatively positive he was looking somewhere else. The two of you had retreated to a balcony near the kitchen. There was to be a feast in two days, to celebrate the return of old lords. For now, a few of the cooks had given you both warm chicken, light soup, some bread with cheese and spiced wine. The air in Narnia seemed sweeter, lighter; you could almost taste it every time a breeze came by.

The moon was out in full and the night sky had been lit up with galaxies of stars.

“Tell me about your trip,” you invited him. Most of the food was gone by now; you were both sharing the last of the bread and cheese. There was half a pitcher left of wine. “I almost can’t believe you met King Edmund and Queen Lucy again.”

You believed in Tash, but sometimes, you felt very drawn to this God named Aslan. Could someone really pull kings and queens from the past and put them into the present? It seemed impossible.

Caspian winced and smiled. “Yes, they were there. We fought against enchantments and a sea serpent. It was difficult, a lot of the journey. We almost fell captive to slave traders in the beginning.”

“Almost?” Your eyebrows raised daintily. That was uncharacteristic. Ghost-fear swept through your body. Just now you were realizing how many times you’d come close to losing him and never knew it.

“Well, we did. For a few hours.” Caspian looked uncomfortable. It couldn’t be easy admitting that, you supposed, having to say you went from royalty to nothing in a matter of mere hours.

Still, though. “But what happened? You fought your way out?” There was usually hope in bleak situations. Caspian had come out alive, so they couldn’t have done much damage.

He smiled lightly at you. “My crew came to my aid. Not all went ashore there.” Caspian looked out over the balcony. Narnia was home, wasn’t it? Or could you find home in another person as well? Maybe it was a combination of both. Your country was the setting, but the person who held your heart was truly home. “Princess Y/N,” he finally said. “I would tell you more, but truth be told, I am weary. For now, I’ll say I realized . . . many things while away.”

“What things would those be?” You asked curiously. The tone had shifted. No longer were you both playful, laid-back. He seemed serious now.

Caspian looked at you, brooding and nervous. “In the years that we’ve seen each other, I have grown and I have learned much. And I have been in many situations where I could died. It’s - forced me to realize how much I haven’t done what I would liked with my life. Y/N, I hate to be so bold, but I’ve never felt as a friend should towards you. Not for many years now. And I’ve always wondered what would happen if I never said anything at all - and what would happen if I did - and I’ve never . . . quite been able to tell you. There was never a right time. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but I can’t keep waiting. I can’t keep wondering. I just - I need to know.”

You shifted. This was the absolute last thing you expected to hear from him. “You know, I remember when we were children,” you finally said. “Even then I felt a tug towards you. I always thought that everybody felt that way about their first friend, though, so I never paid it much mind. And then we became inseparable, and sometimes you were the air I breathed. I believe that when the whole of our world was created, it was from fire and glory and stardust. We were part of the same star; we came from the same atoms. You’re mine; I’m yours. It’s as simple as that.” 

Caspian kissed you then; it was more expressive then anything he’d ever said to you.

[somesortofitalianroast]

When My Back Aches: Michael’s Rescue (Part 8)

Up next is the next installment of When My Back Aches. The story follows Paul O’Connell, a Detective Inspector with the Dublin Garda, and his search for his cousin, Stephen, who ranaway from his family as a teen. The story, as it is told in installments, goes in various different directions, with everything (eventually) coming together. 

The last installment (Part 7) ended with Paul O’Connell figuring out the identity of “Mary,” one of the two women threatening him in his kitchen. This installment features the dramatic rescue of one Lord Michael Collins, the Baron of Ipswitch, who was kidnapped by IRA terrorists in the 1990s. Part 9 (already written) explores Stephen’s backstory and what caused him to runaway.

This section below contains some serious content warnings: graphic depictions of violence, lots and lots of blood, multiple baddies being shot and or stabbed, implications of torture and/or executions, and a faux-interrogation scene. Paul is revealed to be a crack shot with a pistol, deadly with throwing knives, and a former fencer. 

The story is, as usual, below the cut. 

“You didn’t break that kneecap.” Mary spoke up. “It was shot, and fractured into several pieces-.”

“And severed my femoral, I remember. Yes, please bring that up. Just what my day needs - memories of almost bleeding out on copies of /The Joshua Tree/ in a warehouse in the docks, in the midst of a shootout between IRA-wannabes and the Garda. You know, I /liked/ that album…” Paul took a deep breath, glaring at Mary. He thought he’d figured out who she was - some American had married into the landed gentry over in England a few years ago. An American, with a military background; it had caused quite a stir. He only remembered because the Brit had been kidnapped back in the 90s, and he’d been on the HRT that rescued him. He’d been chosen because, not only was he an exceptionally good shot with a pistol, he was also very good in close-quarter combat, specifically knives. He was seeing a theme here.

“Now, Lady Collins, care to tell me the truth?”

Mary turned to face Paul, right eyebrow raised, phone still cradled against her shoulder. “Going to have to call you back, babe,” she said, her accent completely gone. She pulled the phone from her ear, tapped the end call button, and turned to face Paul completely.

“If I understand correctly, you’ve figured it out.” Her voice was smoother, softer, and more refined, with slight traces of a posh RP. Her posture changed, as well, becoming more regal. Paul could see her with a tiara, seated on a throne. He could also see why there was a royal stir when she married Baron Ipswich, better known as Michael Collins.

“Just that you are Lady Margarette Collins, wife to Lord Michael Collins, though I haven’t figured out what in the world you are doing in my kitchen, threatening me.” Paul turned to face Pat, who was still conversing in Irish. “Or whatever you are doing, Patty.” Pat simply rolled her eyes and kept talking. Paul had no idea what they were talking about, but someone named “Carlyle” was clearly important to the… whatever… that was going on…

“My sister, Pat, has been watching you for a while.”

“Doesn’t answer my question, Lady Collins.” Paul forced himself to his feet, and managed to avoid making any verbal sounds of his excruciating agony, though he did inhale and exhale rather shakily, eyes tight and lips white with the pain. Pat’s eyes softened briefly, though she made sure that Paul didn’t see her eyes. Paul shoved a chair out from his table, and gently, yet forcefully, made Mary sit in the chair. He pulled an ornately carved cane from the umbrella stand, and leaned on it. The only thing missing from the interrogation scene he was putting together was the trench coat.

It was a familiar sensation, leaning on his cane. It was a gift from his Aunt Catherine, who told him that it was a family heirloom. The rapier, expertly balanced and equally hidden, was her gift to him - Paul had represented Ireland at more than one European fencing competition, after all. She’d given it to him before he’d even learned if he would even be able to walk again, much less fence, shoot, or dance. Paul’s hand tightened on the head of the cane, fingers running over the ornate, almost runic, carvings.

“You, I can use,” he said. “I know what you’re worth to Lord Collins, and just what he’d do to get you back. After all, I led his HRT.” Paul watched as Mary’s entire demeanor changed, her body stilling, back perfectly straight. She looked like a woman facing down the threat of torture. Which was exactly what Paul wanted her to think. He was surprised her sister was letting her think she was facing torture. Her heavily armed sister, at that. Perhaps she knew that Paul wasn’t actually planning to torture Mary, or hold her for ransom.

“That unit was a hand-selected, anti-terrorism unit,” Paul continued. “Each agent on it had a special skill, or a special set of skills, which made them very good at what they do. The agents ranged from their early twenties to nearing retirement age. The lead agent, myself, was specifically chosen because of my special skill set, which includes enhanced interrogation techniques. We’ve been doing that long before the US. A brutal bombing campaign will do that. Have you read the report?”

“Michael was, um, was held in a decrepit castle in County Galway. The hostage rescue team swarmed in, took out all of his more than two dozen kidnappers, more than half of whom were captured via non-lethal force and arrested before being interrogated.” The slight hesitation was the only tell that she was terrified. “The rest were reported to have died in the firefight. Michael confirmed that there was a lot of gunfire exchanged, on both sides. One report, conveniently buried, hinted that several of the kidnappers were interrogated before being executed. At least one had his throat slit, from behind, and another had a throwing knife embedded in his heart. None of the agents on the HRT were officially armed with throwing knives, though that was also conveniently buried.”

“You’ve read the reports, the unofficial ones. Wonderful.” Paul paused. “What did they say about the person who threw the knife?”

“That the person who threw the knife favored his right leg. Possibly used a cane.” Mary looked at Paul, wondering whether what he was clearly implying was true. Her blue eyes widened.

“When was The Joshua Tree released?” Paul asked. Mary frowned, wondering why this was important.

“1987,” Pat chimed in, before returning to her phone call. Mary sent her a look.

“Exactly. When was Lord Collins kidnapped?”

“1994.” Mary’s voice was incredibly faint, her blue eyes wide in her pale face.

“What else did the report say about the person who threw the knife?” Paul leaned in, speaking softly, like he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Mary’s already pale face paled even more. She dropped her head into her hands.

“That the person who threw the knife was either leading the charge or was standing in a pocket, protected, like a quarterback.”

“What did the report not say? Besides the name of the person who threw the knife?”

“Whether the deceased was armed.” Everyone turned to Pat, who gave them a not-impressed look. “Only two of the kidnappers with knife wounds died from them. Two. Of the even dozen with knife wounds. Two. The one found with a throwing knife embedded in his heart and the one with his throat slit. Weren’t both of them found in the same room where Michael was being held?”

“And Ms. Coyne gets it.” Paul watched Mary figure out what Pat had. “And, Lady Collins, wasn’t Lord Collins covered, drenched, in blood that wasn’t his?” Mary nodded. “What did you think I was implying?”

“You know what I was thinking - you were implying that your HRT interrogated and executed several kidnappers.” Mary looked up, resting her hands, palms down, on the table. “Michael was drenched in blood, as if… as if the person holding him’s throat had been cut. From behind, expertly. And the only other knife victim…” “Would have been holding a cocked gun on the analyst. I didn’t have time to shoot him. Funny, when you think about it, I had time to aim and throw a knife but not to unholster and shoot a pistol.”

“He was wearing body armor, Mr. O’Connell. You made the right choice,” Pat said. “Body armor is notoriously bad against sharp force trauma, similar to your throwing knives.” She dropped a sketchbook on the table, open to a reconstruction of the day. “You, Mr. O’Connell, chosen for your close-quarter knife skills, not your advanced interrogation techniques, went for Michael, slitting the throat of the attacker holding a knife to his throat. From behind. Here’s where things getting interesting.

“You realized that the other guard was still armed and still standing. I’m assuming that he was someone else’s responsibility. You were still holding the expiring body of guard number one, so you shoved Michael down as hard as you could and nailed guard number two with the same knife you used to kill guard number one. Am I right?” “Yes, you are. Now, can we get back to what the fuck you are doing in my kitchen and what the fuck you did to me. You fucking swore you’d help me find Stephen. I. Want. Answers. And I want them right the fuck now.”

[xolauris]

            Although it has been quite some time since my last visit home, I remember everything like it was yesterday…

I always have these random moments where I just start to miss my experiences with all of my family so I’ve decided to just express my feelings and share my memories with you readers!

My trip was on December 26th, 2016 until January 7th, 2017. So basically right after our traditional Christmas party (which wasn’t so traditional last year since we celebrated it in pajamas instead of the “full glam look” like we always do), we were heading over to the airport, which I kind of liked since I was able to buy my first onesie & not feel so tired from heels the night before my flight haha.

                            The flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Bogota, Colombia is 3 hours so I was able to take a mini nap & basically just chill out until we reached our destination. The last time I visited home was around 4 years back & though I remember most of it, a lot of things can change in a span of four years.

We got there around 3 in the afternoon I believe & were greeted by my beautiful Tia Leo with her boyfriend Massimo who I’ve known almost my whole life. Now in Colombia, there are many different parts with different climates. In the city of Bogota, it tends to be warm during the day & cold during the night. At least thats how its been the times I’ve been there. But its that type of cool air that you love & enjoy.

When we got to my house, we were immediately embraced with my Tia Carmen’s hugs & kisses and from that moment on, I knew I wasn’t going to want to leave.

Since this was a family trip, later on that day my brother in law Danni would be arriving & shortly after my sister Carolina would be arriving along with my two lovely nieces Isabella & Daniella. Unfortunately, my other sister & brother were not able to come along with us on the trip, they were always there with us in spirit (and facetime may I add) & will most definitely come on the next trip.

My house in Colombia is huuuuuuuge! It’s the same house where my mother grew up in with her sisters although it’s been remodeled a little bit. The house is made up of three floors including the upstairs patio which is also huge.

                      (this is an old photo but I couldn’t find any other ones of the house)

So for the next couple of days I would be chilling out with all my family & celebrating my aunt’s birthday “80’s style”. After about a week or so, our whole family would be taking a trip out to Tocaima, where we rented out a ranch for a a couple of days to celebrate New Years there. It was honestly the most exciting thing I’ve ever done because I’ve never been out of the city. We all met up at my house & got picked up by a travel bus to take a 2-3 hour drive up the mountain to the hot city. This is where the temperatures would start to change. One second I was cold as hell in Bogota, & next thing I knew, I was sweating on the bus. IT.WAS.HOT.

                                                   Apart from getting a bit congested on the way there & suffering from the excruciating heat from the city, the bus ride to the ranch was actually pretty fun. I got to see many different villages up in the mountains and saw how people lived around there. Part of me actually wanted to know how it would be like living in a ranch with limited access to the things I have today.

My family and I were all listening to your typical “musica ranchera” the whole ride there & were even hit with some new music as well. It was a great opportunity to catch up and really have long conversations with my cousins.

    When we finally arrived at the ranch, I was in complete shock when I saw how beautiful the entrance was. It was like that one street in either Hollywood, California or Beverly Hills (I can’t remember which one at the moment), where you can see many palm trees just leading you straight to the house where we were about to spend the next days.

            ��                    It was a beautiful home with a huge jukebox in the front and a large front & back yard. The pool was on the side and you can see the mountains in the distance. There really isn’t another word to describe it. It was complete paradise.

Me, being the animal lover that I am, was the first to notice the animals that were about to share their home with us for these days. There was a cat, two dogs, & a donkey. Yes, a freaking donkey and let me just say it was the cutest donkey I have ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many in my lifetime but you get the idea.

                      Our first day was just unpacking and giving ourselves a tour of the ranch. There were helpers that cooked for us and cleaned (don’t really want to call them maids cause it sounds kind of rude) but our family helped cook and clean as well. My cousins immediately made their way towards the pool and dragged me along even though I really just wanted to relax for a little bit. In the end, it was worth it because it got HOT.

Over the next few days we did various things from going into the pool all day everyday, playing multiple games of pool, blasting music on the jukebox, feasting in the family table inside and outside, and honestly just enjoying time with the fam because in the end, that was the reason all of this came to be.

          Just before we left, we celebrated New Years. The men brought the jukebox inside the house and the whole family got dressed in red. No reason for it but I guess we wanted to match lol Throughout the entire night, we danced sooooo much & of course the adults had their fun with the drinks. I spent the night with my cousins and even got to sleep in a tent just outside the house for the first time. Once dark, I was able to see every star in the sky and the moon bring light to the mountains in the distance. It truly was breathtaking.

                                                                                                (Our first night in the tent!)

                                                                                        (New Years Eve!!)

                                        If I were to type every single detail of the trip, you’d be reading a novel at this moment instead of a quick blog post haha.

By the end of the trip, I really didn’t want to leave. It’s always the same thing whenever I come and visit home. It’s an escape from reality to me & it’s somewhere I never want to leave.

When we started to make our way back to Bogota, the heat seemed to get more & more intense. We ended up making a stop in Melgar where my family got an Avena drink that was really popular there. I stayed safe and got myself a coke. Once refreshed and cooled down, we made our way back to the city.

Once back home, we went back to what we usually do on regular days here. Walk around, relax, spend time together, and overall just enjoy being there.

We took a day to visit one of our most special family members, my cousin Camilo. It would be the first time I would meet him and actually remember meeting him since I believe the last time I saw him, I was little. Most of the time we just caught up with things and talked about things that were going on in eachothers lives. Other times I was calling out to the cats outside the kitchen window or with the boys watching tv and playing in the other room.

                                                         I believe two days before our departure, my sister Carolina surprised me with a club night. It’s legal to drink at the age of 18 in Colombia & go to clubs at the age of 16. Me, being 19 and all, got to experience my first “adult life” moment. I danced the night away and had a few drinks (don’t worry mom I was stable).

Upon our last day, we said our goodbyes and it was basically the most depressing part of the whole trip. Beforehand, we had a big dinner on the top roof. My family there means a lot to me & I miss them everyday.  There were many mini moments that I didn’t include mostly because thats what they are. Moments and memories that are just meant to be kept private with the people you share them with.

I plan to return home in the near future. Until then, my parents and I have booked ourselves a trip to Italy for New Years to finally see our family there after many years. I haven’t been since I was 3 & all I remember are moments captured in photos. Something I really look forward to is to see snow for the first time. Yes I know I will probably hate it after a first few days because of how frozen I am going to feel but again maybe I won’t. It takes a lot for me to actually dislike something. Especially if it’s new to me.

Hope you guys enjoyed this mini post of my trip to Colombia. Can’t wait to write to you about the next!

xo, Laura

      A Trip Back Home             Although it has been quite some time since my last visit home, I remember everything like it was yesterday...