#i spent my 30th birthday alone and sick

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

.

[alstublieft]

Circle of Love - Sobbe

30th July 2021

“Robin, look!” 

“No, there’s no way..”

“Please...pretty please.”

Robbe let out a deep sigh and eyed his boyfriend’s large green eyes and adorable pouty lips, he couldn’t say no when Sander looked at him like that - it was near impossible. 

The couple had decided to spend their Friday afternoon at a Funfair that was set up in their local park, to celebrate their 20 month anniversary which was technically yesterday, but they were both too busy to really celebrate. Walking around each attraction their hands clasped tight, they laughed in sync, bodies buzzing with alcohol in their veins. 

Striped red and yellow tents were dotted around the park, each one containing a different amusement, the park was filled to the brim with friends and family, the sun shone bright and it really was the perfect day.

Sander had fed Robbe pink clouds of candy floss and with each bite he’d watch his lover lick the sugary confection from the sides of his mouth, missing a crystal or two.

Later on, Robbe had spent more money than he’d like to admit on ‘Hook a Duck’ but eventually won a plush shark toy which he gifted to his Bowie-loving boyfriend, earning him a sweet kiss to his cheek. Robbe watched lovingly as Sander immediately took the toy, hugging it close to his chest. 

But now, as Robbe looked up at the Ferris Wheel that Sander so eagerly pointed out, it’s circumference alone sent shivers down his spine. It had bright neon lights that glowed at the entrance and the seats looked way too unstable to sit on. Nevertheless, one look at Sander’s pleading eyes and he was a goner.

“Okay, let’s go then.” Robbe gives in, trying to hide his nerves with a dimpled smile. 

Sander let out a high-pitched squeal and dragged the smaller boy to the queue, he babbled on and on about how he’d love sitting right at the top watching the rest of the world below and how he loved how the air’s density decreased the higher the ride took him and how he felt ‘on top of the world.’ Robbe loved listening to Sander, he would often rewatch the lockdown walk videos he had sent him when they were unable to see each other, getting lost in his deep voice; it was like a lullaby. 

Finally they paid for their tickets and stepped onto the metal platform and made their way to their seats, Robbe’s nerves increasing as the seat rocked slightly, he reached out and gripped Sander’s light denim jacket, fingers curling into the material like a lifeline. 

Sander, who had stepped on with ease, chuckles and helps Robbe to his seat, a steady arm wrapped around his waist.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re fine Robbe.” Sander reassures, his warm breath hitting the side of Robbe’s face and travelling down the length of his neck.

“Dank je” Robbe whispers, as they sit side by side in their cosy carriage. Robbe’s eyes wandered along the ride, ensuring each screw was tight and the bar to hold them in went all the way down and locked into place. 

On the other hand, Sander was bouncing with excitement as a worker came and checked they were buckled in securely, wishing the conductor would pull the lever and start the ride.

As if his mind had been read, the carriage swings back squeaking, evoking an endearing yelp from Robbe who has somehow gotten closer to Sander in their tiny seating area. 

“Sander, oh my god, oh my god, we’re moving!” Robbe shrieks.

“I know! Isn’t this sick?” Sander places his large hand on Robbe’s thigh, squeezing from sheer joy, his toothy grin could be seen from miles away.

Slowly they drift through the air, catching sight of their friends below who waved and cheered in excitement. Robbe looks up at Sander, analysing his facial expressions, the way his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, the mole on the side of his face which Robbe would always kiss twice because ‘it’s extra special’ a thin layer of sweat shone from the tops of his cheeks, glowing like embers of gold; truly magnificent. 

He loves him. He loves him wholeheartedly. Robbe would gladly step onto a million ferris wheels if it meant seeing Sander like this, so carefree, so joyous, so alive. 

Sander turns to face Robbe, catching his stare, a radiant smile makes its way to his face, brighter than the stars. They had glided higher, still not at the highest point, but significantly higher, butterflies erupting in their bellies and Robbe had to stop himself from looking down.

“Baby, look out there, you can see the mural.” Sander points with his arm, his voice getting caught in his throat, emotion getting the better of him.

“I still can’t believe you did that.” Robbe says in awe, squinting a bit, seeing himself across the park on a big wall in intense colours. Sander’s declaration of love really was for all to see.

“Why? You’re so beautiful, everyone had to know.” 

Robbe moves his eyes away from the mural to look at Sander, his chest filled with warmth, he reaches down and takes Sander's hand on his lap, slotting his fingers between the gaps - a perfect fit. 

Their eyes don’t leave one another’s, green melting into brown, brown melting into green. It’s as if the rest of the world went on mute, and it’s just them two alone, on a ferris wheel, sharing the same love. 

They don’t need words to communicate, they have longing looks, and the softest of touch; their souls are so intertwined, it would be paradoxical to try and tell them apart. 

In the midst of their love-struck haze, their carriage had reached the very top of the wheel, halting to a stop, lightly swinging back and forth, the sudden momentum breaking their adoration. 

“Happy 20 Month Anniversary, My Love.” Sander says, voice like melted honey, words ooze out of his mouth effortlessly, drawing Robbe in completely.

Robbe fixes his eyes on Sander’s mouth, the sides curling up into a grin, pearly teeth just peeking through. “Happy 20 Month Anniversary, My King.” 

Sander uses his free hand to cup behind Robbe’s neck, fingers tangling in his auburn curls, bringing his love in for a heated kiss, head tilting, breathing out through his nose. Robbe kisses back with just as much passion, wrapping his lone arm round to hold onto Sander’s shoulder. 

He's starting to understand why Sander loves being so high up, the atmosphere up here instantly eliminates the noise around them. A dingy carriage, on a rusty ferris wheel, at a funfair in the late afternoon. A haven for two.

**************************************************************************************************

This is dedicated to my favourite person @debussyatmidnight

Millie, my light, my love, where would I be without you? I love you so much and wish you the happiest birthday...<3 

I know this is nowhere as good as the gifset you made me, but i promise, as soon as i learn how to create gifs - i’ll make you as many as you want xxx

love, aamana

[royadventures]

april 1st, 2022--4:42pm and just remembered it's april fool's

previous log

i left off on march 27th. that day, T and i both felt sick during the day. later, i realized i just had a headache because i was thirsty. nonetheless, we went to the sameE café ^-^

we first took a look at the md floor (merch floor) downstairs. they had a whole treasure section! a ton of treasure stuff left from the DO TREASURE exhibit that i couldn't go to 'cause i don't have my arc ;-; (alien registration card aka id card for foreigners).

we had our drinks upstairs. the yg café is very white and futuristic while remaining simple--it isn't super colourful/full of stuff. there is a huge screen playing snippets of yg mvs, a balcony where you can sit outside, and also a window facing the yg building if you want to look out while eating.

p.s.! it's a card-only spot! no cash!!

the creme brulee donut was so good :") althp the mocha i got was not very to my liking.

T was really not feeling well so we headed home, but i remember not feeling so well, either. not physically, but mentally. i think i had reached my breaking point after my friend wasn't texting me back.

it got so bad to a point where i was genuinely holding in tears on the subway home.

there was a Jonghyun birthday ad in hyehwa station (which took me by surprise because there aren't really ever any kpop ads in the station nearest us). seeing him and his song, i'm sorry, coming on shuffle made the tears very risky of overflowing. so, T and i only had time to quickly rush in and out of daiso, buy covid tests (just in case!) and get some food for T.

Jonghyun is a reminder for me that loneliness is temporary, that i'm not alone, for reasons i won't explain here. seeing him when i felt so lonely truly sent me over the edge. he came to me when i needed him the most :")

at home, i cried it out, took a covid test (negative!!) and ate some food. i spent most of the night in my room, just relaxing and recovering.

quite frankly, i don't remember what happened on the 28th. i usually take photos so i can remember what to write here, but i genuinely can't recall. i know i did my 9am class online that day, just in case, but felt better and went to campus for my other classes. then, i returned home and had another simple day?

march the 29th, i went to the yg cafe again by myself after class. i felt as though i wasn't able to enjoy it to the fullest when i went with T, so i went alone this time! i felr super happy to be going. i stayed there for 3 hours, studying in the balcony. the weather was so nice!! the pistachio butter donut and choco latte that i got were also heaven.

it was less busy there than when i went with T, so i enjoyed it a lot before returning home. i think on this day, i made a late-night (9:30pm T.T) run to the nearby 7eleven to buy jjapaghetti :P it hit the spot!

march 30th was Eunwoo day. T had tested negative for covid 4 times and felt it was safe to go to class, so after class, we went to hongdae to scope out some cupsleeve events. they were cute but supee pricey for the limited freebies... prolly cause it's Eunwoo T.T

(photos will be posted separately b/c i'm at photo limit again!)

we (T) were starving, but all the food around us was super pricey. still, we settled on chicken (₩20,000 per person T.T) and ate to our heart's content! it was pretty damn good... worth the price i guess? it was a more high end, classy spot, so maybe that's why it cost so much.

we then returned home and rested up!.. only after having bingsu :D we tried the chocolate cookie oreo monster... or something and were disappointed. it was choco powder, oreo and whipped cream. not good.

here's my bingsu ranking so far, best to worst:

matcha

strawberry

mango

tiramisu

oreo monster

march 31st, yesterday, T and i went to hongdae (again TT) to see a pomeranian café she's been wanting to go to. it was hella sketch, not even a café 'cause the drink system was weird (you order on a screen and can't even see how/where it's made), it smelled bad and the building looked run-down. waste of ₩12,000, but the dogs were cute, i guess. super, super, super sketch tho.

then, we went to a harry potter café (T kinda day! she likes harry potter). it was 4 floors and very dim, full of random paintings of old european people, super pricey, but oh well! the harry potter soundtrack was on loop, one of the floors was full of couples cause beds were used instead of tables/chairs, and idk...

we then ate at ichimen which was a highlight for me!!! 8,000 won for some yummy ramen, rice, and side dishes of your choice (kimchi or pickled radish). if you don't know, it's a spot famous for eating alone when you're on work break. you can open up a wal between you and who's next to you, sit at a counter, eat up, and leave. there's one menu and you just choose the level of spice.

we headed home after that :>

i'm sorry if this has been rushed so far ! maybe i'll come back and edit? probably not T.T i just wanna leave this café so bad but wasn't letting myself 'till i was done writing, heh.

i've been solo today but have had fun! i'll write about it later~ also, ptg is tomorrow!!!!

next log

[smolfelton]

heyyyy for soulmate aus... 1. the every popular tattoo/soulmark au 2. the "feel each other's pain" au 3. the "write on my skin, shows up on my soulmate's" au 4. the "see in greyscale until i touch/kiss my soulmate" au 5. the "soulamtes can communicate telepathically" au 6. the "soulmates can see each others' auras" au hope u enjoy! thanks for asking! :)

Harry hadn’t seen colour for over twelve years now. And fuck, did he miss it. On the morning of his 18th birthday he opened his eyes to find everything around him in grey scale. He had panicked and floo’d Hermione and Ron over, only to learn that something like this was actually pretty normal.

“It happens to some wizards, mate,” Ron explained. “Not all, but some.”

“I didn’t learn about it until after Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “Apparently it’s such a common thing for magic folk, especially purebloods, that they don’t even bother to teach it in school. Stupid, if you ask me. How are muggleborns and half-bloods supposed to know if it should happen to them?”

“But what is it?” Harry asked, practically shaking in his seat.

“It means you have a definite soulmate, Harry,” Ron explained. “When someone has a soulmate, both parties stop seeing colour on their 18th birthdays. Neither will be able to see colour again until they touch each other. That’s how you know you’ve found your soulmate.”

“So... I just have to touch them?” Harry asked. “Like a handshake? And that’s it?”

Both Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry suddenly felt excited. This was his chance to find what he’d been missing in life. To find someone who was truly meant for him and him alone. Someone who wouldn’t care that he was The Chosen One, just that he was their soulmate. He could be selfish for once, for the first time in a long while.

His excitement faded quickly.

He had spent the first few years shaking the hand of every person he came across. Every adoring fan, every politician, every old friend from Hogwarts, and more. Not a single person was left unnoticed by him, and in turn the wizarding world adored him for it. They all loved their doting Saviour. Harry, however, couldn’t have been more miserable.

“Just be patient, mate,” Ron had said, trying to comfort him. “Some people don’t meet their soulmate for years. My great-grandfather didn’t meet my great-grandmother until they were well into their forties, and they were happily married into their hundreds. Or at least that’s what my mum told us.”

So Harry carried on well into his late twenties, still shaking the hand of every person he met, trying to be as patient as he could possibly be. But the nagging at the back of his head soon began to feel as if someone was drilling a hole into his brain. What if he never found his soulmate? What if they were looking for him too? What if they both died alone, never even knowing each other?

“Oh Harry,” Hermione had sighed. “You don’t have to be with them to be happy. You could always just find someone else. I’m sure-”

“No,” Harry had simply said. He wouldn’t entertain that thought.

A few months before Harry’s 30th birthday, Headmistress McGonagall had sent him a letter inviting him to become the new professor of the previously cursed D.A.D.A. position. Harry immediately accepted, happy to finally leave his job as an auror. He loved saving lives, but he was tired of putting himself on the line every day of his life. He wanted to teach, and he remembered how good it felt when he helped other students learn to defend themselves during the war. He wanted to do that again.

Harry was thirty when he finally returned to Hogwarts, and it had been just as amazing as he remembered. If anything, he felt like he was eleven all over again, and it was like the castle was welcoming him home. The students and other professors seemed overly ecstatic as he joined them, receiving a warm and rather loud welcome from everyone in the great hall on the first day.

Well, almost everyone.

Harry had nearly toppled over when he saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the professors table, sipping on a goblet and not deigning to even notice Harry’s presence as he sat next to him. Harry fidgeted in his seat as he was introduced by McGonagall, most of his attention focused on the blond man beside him. Not because Malfoy made him uncomfortable, but because he looked so very... different.

Malfoy’s hair was long- so, so long- and it had been tied into a loose braid that fell over one shoulder and went down to his waist oh-so prettily. His skin was just as pale, but now it no longer looked as off-putting as before. Instead, it reminded Harry of freshly fallen snow, and he doubted that it would look much different in colour. His long fingers and nicely manicured nails gripped his cup steadily as he brought it to his lips. Harry wondered what Malfoy would look like in colour. He bet he’d look even more beautiful than he was in grey scale.

“Can I help you with something, Potter?” Malfoy finally asked after several long minutes. He finally turned to look at Harry, and suddenly he felt like he was going to be sick.

“I-I didn’t know you were a professor,” Harry replied.

“Well now you do.”

“What do you teach?”

“Potions.”

“For how long?”

“Six years now.”

“I bet Snape would be proud,” Harry said, instantly regretting it when Malfoy stiffened and turned away. “Sorry. I know he was your godfather.”

“It’s in the past, Potter,” Malfoy said and took another sip out of his cup.

“You know... You can call me Harry if you’d like.”

Malfoy snorted into his goblet, and Harry could see his thin lips turn upwards into a smile that made Harry’s heart leap in his chest. Malfoy looked at him with a sharp, raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“That definitely isn’t going to happen,” Malfoy said.

Months passed and both Malfoy and Harry got on quite well. Somewhere along the way over the past twelve years, Malfoy had become a genuinely good person. He was a strict professor, just like Snape had been, but he seemed to care about his students regardless of their house. Harry rarely ever heard the students say a bad thing about Professor Malfoy, and when he did it was usually because he’d assigned extra homework or had taken off a few house points.

Christmas holiday came around rather quickly, and most students had already gone home except for a handful. Even most of the professors had gone home to be with their families. Harry had spent a few days with the Weasleys, but had returned to Hogwarts to go ahead and prepare the work for his students when they returned. Usually he wasn’t one to plan ahead, especially when it came to schoolwork, but being a new professor made him rather eager.

Harry was surprised to find that Malfoy was doing the same. He walked into the professors lounge with a heavy pile of books and papers in his arms, only to find Malfoy already sitting at a table with his own pile. Harry watched dumbly for a second as Malfoy used his quill to scratch and tick marks onto papers, his long pale fingers moving with grace. Harry felt his breath hitch in his throat when he noticed Malfoy’s tongue was posing out from between his lips, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Harry wished he could see how pink it probably was.

Malfoy finally looked up at Harry after a moment, and he quickly snapped out of his trance and moved to sit across from the blond. He set his work down and began doing the same as Malfoy, then huffed when he realised he’d forgotten his quill and ink. He made to get up until Malfoy cleared his throat.

“Here, Potter,” Malfoy said, extending his hand to offer Harry an extra quill. “Just make sure you remember who it belongs to.”

“Right. Thanks,” Harry nodded, taking the quill and watching as his fingers were so close to brushing Malfoy’s. 

Malfoy set his ink pot between them and both professors started back on their work. After nearly an hour of grading papers and beginning new work for the students, Harry had become terribly bored. He looked up and glanced at Malfoy, impressed with how quickly he was working. The potions professor’s hair was freely flowing over his shoulders and down his back, straight at the top but falling into waves at the bottom. Harry wished he could see what the blond hair looked like in colour. He could hardly even remember what it looked like anymore. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the exact shade of his own green eyes anymore.

For a split second, Harry thought Hermione could have been right. Maybe he didn’t need to be with his soulmate to be happy. He clearly liked Malfoy, as much as he wished he didn’t. He wanted to meet the person he was meant for, but there was no way he could deny his true feelings any longer. He wanted Malfoy. He wanted Draco. Why should he have to wait forever to find love? Why couldn’t he have it now, when it was right in front of him?

“Hey Malfoy,” Harry suddenly said, surprising himself.

“Yes?” Malfoy asked without even looking up.

“I was thinking abut going into Hogsmeade tomorrow,” Harry lied. “Would you maybe want to come with?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Malfoy sighed, which seemed genuine. “I have far too many papers to grade. Plus I haven’t even begun to prepare for the students return.”

“Ah. That’s okay,” Harry said, hiding his disappointment. “Maybe next weekend, then.”

Malfoy looked up at him and Harry felt a lump form in his throat.

“Maybe,” Malfoy said, then went back to his work.

Harry wanted to bang his head against the table, but instead he went back to grading his own papers. He ticked and scratched and scribbled until his hand started to cramp, but no matter how tiresome it became he didn’t stop. Even when day turned into night, he continued. He told himself to do it for the students, but he knew that wasn’t why he was really doing it.

The truth was, he just wanted an excuse to be near Malfoy.

Harry sighed and moved his hand towards the ink pot without looking up from his papers, and he felt the tip of his finger brush something soft. He knew it was Malfoy’s hand reaching for ink as well, and didn’t bother to look up. When he brought the quill back to his paper, he froze, the blood in his veins turning into ice as he gulped, mouth suddenly dry and face heating up.

His hand was brown again. His quill was dark green. The textbooks beside him were red. The lounge’s fireplace washed the room in an orange glow.

Harry could see colour again.

He heard a soft gasp and looked up to see Malfoy staring at him, wide silver eyes beginning to fill with visible tears, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. Harry stared at him, his heart practically leaping with joy now that he could see Malfoy- truly see him again.

Malfoy’s blond hair was nearly as white as his skin, contrasting against the dark green turtleneck he wore, but it looked golden in the fire’s light. His lips were a pretty pink colour, and his cheeks were equally as pink and rosy, becoming darker by the second. He let out a shaky breath and a single tear fell from one silver eye and down his pink cheek.

Harry had never seen anything so fucking beautiful.

“I...” Malfoy finally said, his voice shaky as his lips trembled. "I think I would like to go to Hogsmeade after all... Harry.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile, feeling tears begin to well up in his own eyes, his shoulders sagging in relief. Malfoy returned it, his pink lips turning upwards into a small, soft smile. Harry had never felt so happy.

“Thank you, Draco.”

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my works | my ao3 | send me a prompt

[novelistash]

Lex Evans

Continuing my compulsive catalogue of fictional lives that I didn't come up with.

After the wedding, Ayla took Lex golfing and admitted that she had created distance with Lex ever since she'd made a move on her. They became besties again. At the age of 31, Lex sold her town home, so she could focus on renovations on her and Ariana's equestrian ranch home.

Throwing party after party, Lex realized she wasn't just hilariously addicted to Bahama Mamas, but simply addicted to alcohol. She went to AA, but got nothing from it.

While long boarding and drinking Mai Tais Ayla admitted to Lex that she'd been offered opium and seriously considered using it. Lex said she was glad Ayla didn't go down that path.

At the age of 34, Lex became a Sr. Environmental Scientist, but her real job was dumping hundreds of thousands of dollars into Arian and Lex's mansion.

The days all started to bleed together, and Lex drove all the way to work before realizing it was Saturday. Lex suspected that the drinking was getting in way of her memory. Remembering her luck with spiritualism in the past, Lex found a Witch Doctor to help her with her alcoholism. She ate a raw Komodo Dragon Egg. After purging most of her stomach, the thought of liquor made her sick.

Ayla's continued drinking pulled Lex and her apart, and Clive became Lex's new bestie.

While at the record store with Ayla, she talked about opium again, saying that her new bestie was smoking it around her. Lex told Ayla she was glad she wasn't using it, but Ayla got quiet instead. Lex was pretty sure she was going to try it.

At the age of 39, Lex accidentally scored on her own goal while playing soccer. Everyone laughed for ten minutes. She sold her old BMW and bought a used Suburu. Ariana renewed their vows and adopted Carter, 3 year old whose father couldn't afford to pay for his medical bills. Lex bonded with Carter by doing yoga with goats.

Carter called out "mama" and Lex and Ariana laughed when they realized they didn't know who he was asking for. While buying new clothes, Lex tried on a stranger's coat. She was caught and left the store in humiliation.

Carter had his first day of school and Lex's niece Kylie was old enough to get a job as a receptionist. Lex reflected on how awesome human beings actually are. After playing laser tag with Carter and Archie's family, Lex and Archie became best friends. Lex's friend Eleanor talked her into crashing a wedding. She didn't remember how it ended, only that she was back at home puking in the garden bathroom so Ariana wouldn't know she was drinking. Lex went to a hypnotist to overcome Alcoholism and it worked. Picking up a bottle of champagne only made her think of maple syrup.

At the age of 42, Lex's niece Hazel graduated secondary school. At the graduation party, someone told Lex to shake her money making, so she shook Ariana. Lex gave her nieces $10,000 each. (Kylie getting money for the graduation she'd been too drunk to attend!) While playing bingo with Ayla, she admitted that she'd been cheating on her boyfriend. Lex told Ayla that she'd always be there for her.

Hazel became a Jr. Flight attendant and moved out of the house. Lex housed a celebration at the mansion and she was offered ritalin. Lex turned them down. Lex wrote up a will that named Ariana and Carter as the sole inheritors.

At the age of 44, Lex was sexually harassed at work. Her coworker Michael pulled her shirt off in front of everyone. The supervisor fired Michael. The Evans family started going house shopping.

At the age of 46, Lex's mother got very sick. She took her mom to Dr. Cooper and he treated her diarrhea, caused from contaminated lettuce. The lettuce outbreak had originated in Indonesia. This got Lex thinking about social responsibility, and she decided to run for School Board Director. She ran against Angus White and lead a clean campaign. After knocking on 1000 doors, Lex lost the election. Ariana took the family to Thailand to help Lex get past the sting.

At the age of 47, Lex had another brush with death! While hiking off trail, she slipped into quicksand! Lex remembered her swim team days and swam out of the pit. She was in there for 8 minutes. Contemplating life, she read her step brother Kobe's journal. Kobe found her and Lex apologized. Lex decided that she needed to downsize her life. She needed to get out of that mansion.

At the age of 49, Lex's mother passed away of natural causes. Lex and Kobe both inherited $2,618,526. Lex finally found a buyer for the manision, and sold the property for 4.3 million. They moved into a midcentury home with 3 beds and 2 baths. Carter was starting secondary school, and Lex gave him $10,000 to spend how he wished.

At the age of 50, Lex celebrated her 20th anniversary with Ariana. They laughed about the prenup. Ariana encouraged Lex to keep running for office and Lex realized she could do anything she set her mind to. Lex caught the flu, but recovered after a trip to the doctor.

Lex's niece Kylie married her college boyfriend. Though neither were unemployed, Kobe had the funds to pay for the wedding. Lex's friend Eleanor convinced her to start drinking again. Lex spent a lot of time with wannabe sommeliers, and dealt with a very real relapse. Lex went to AA and found the strength to throw out thousands of dollars of premier wine. Lex and Elanor got into a fight about the perfect crotch shape, but they both knew it was about drinking.

At the age of 52, Lex lost her step father. He had a stroke in the closet and Lex found him dead. The thought of dying alone in a closet haunted her, making her uneasy about staying in windowless rooms. Ariana talked to Lex about the future at a local park, and Lex decided to run for School Board Director again. She ran a clean campaign against Sophia Johnson, but someone called Ariana a biznatch! Lex called the man a troll and won the election. Lex held energetic rallies about education and the environment.

At the age of 53, a provocative intern tried to hook up with Lex while they were working late. Lex turned him down, but she had been turned on. She talked to her wife about the pros and cons of becoming swingers. That following morning, she planted a cucumber garden.

Carter graduated secondary school and Kobe retired. teen pregnancies were becoming an issue in Lex's school district, so she mandated contraceptives be available. Lex held a rally to dispel the myths about contraceptive encouraging pregnancies.

A friend of Lex's wanted Lex to put her on the payroll without having her do any work. Lex offered her a job as a lead janitor instead and she stopped talking to Lex. Carter asked his mothers if he could study finance at a university, and they encouraged him to live his life how he wanted. Lex went to a bar with Ariana, and was able to stop after one drink.

Kobe's daughter, Hazel, married Jayden Roberts, a restaurant worker. While dancing at the celebration, Ariana fell to the floor. After taking Ariana to the hospital, she was diagnosed with cancer of the buttocks! Lex renewed her vows to Ariana. Lex read Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason," and found little reason for cancer to exist.

While at a masquerade ball, Lex flirted with a politician to grease the gears of government. Ariana was furious, but no amount of trying to explain the situation helped.

At the age of 58, Lex fell out of bed and hit her eye. She could see for 6 days. Lex's term as School Board Director ended. Ariana's cancer went into remission. Lex and Ariana went to Osaka, Japan to celebrate. Ariana forgave Lex for flirting and encouraged her to run for a second term. After another clean campaign against Hugo Miller, Lex won re-election!

Carter graduated uni and became a Jr. Stockbrocker. After a trip to the gym, Lex was diagnosed with a staph infection.

At the age of 60, Lex and Ariana celebrated their 30th anniversary. Ariana vowed to make more time for their marriage, by finally retiring. During the party Lex caught Kobe sneaking around in her room and the two got into an argument. Lex was the first to apologize even though she wasn't at fault.

Carter got promoted to Stockbroker. Lex was diagnosed with hemorrhoids and cherished naps above all other activities.

Kobe's daughter, Kylie came out as gay. Lex was offered a $3 million bribe and turned it down.

Lex finished her second term in office with a 100% approval rating. As School Board Director, Lex Evans was known for her energetic rallies. She tried to run a clean campaign for Mayor of Sydney. When she didn't deny the truth of her past with alcoholism, the public sided with 79 year old, Eli Epping. Lex went on a vacation to Machu Picchu with Ariana.

Lex spent $754,000 on an unsuccessful campaign, and then at the age of 65, retired.

Ariana and Lex moved to France to get away from the public eye. They bought an art deco home! They adopted a cat named Zorro from the animal shelter. Lex bought a used tesla.

At the age of 68, Lex lost her step brother Kobe after a stroke. He had refused to seak medical treatment, even though his hearing was going out.

Lex's life was dominated by renovating the art deco home. She missed her friends in Australia. Lex and Ariana argued about the nature of reality. Ariana thought it was a waste of time to talk about things like that.

Lex got into a car accident on the way home from her 40th anniversary, her butt got cut. She visited her friend Ruby in prison. Ariana started withholding sex. They both opened up about their fantasies on a trip to Venice, Italy, and things seemed to be back to normal.

Shortly after Lex's 71st birthday, her cat Zorro passed away. Lex and Ariana moved back to Australia, moving into an adorable cottage with 2 beds and 1 bath. Lex sold her tesla and art deco home in France, and bought another used Suburu. Though the move back to Australia helped Lex's mood, it had done nothing to help her relationship with Ariana. They were getting into fights about everything from video games to fishing laws.

Forty-two years into their marriage, Ariana asked for a divorce. Lex begged Ariana to stay. Even though she agreed, she refused to go to marriage counseling.

The next year, Lex and Ariana went sky diving and slowly things started to improve. It seemed like Ariana was simply bored with life, so Lex would try to be more spontaneous.

Lex and Ariana renewed their wedding vows after volunteering at a retirement home, something they both hoped they would never be in. Lex gave 0.74 carat diamond earrings to Ariana. She said the gift was an insult.

The day after Lex's 78th birthday, she witnessed a bank robbery! Within a year, her best friend and first crush, Ayla passed away. The doctor's said it was, "her time," but Lex felt strong and happy. Lex lost two more friends that year, and wondered if she was fooling herself and started to think about her bucket list.

Lex and Ariana's 50th anniversary was a solemn affair, as Ariana was suffering from bronchitis. Someone hacked into Lex's instagram account, so she deleted all her social media.

The 82 year old millionaire, Lex, wanted to run for office again. Ariana thought it was a waste of time and money. Lex ran despite Ariana's objections and lost. Ariana was back to withholding sex and it was like their life in France had been forgotten.

Lex sold their cottage for a modern home. The change in scenery helped Lex and Ariana move on from the drama of the past, but their marriage had become a sexless one. Lex brought up having a threesome or an open marriage to try and bring some excitement back into their life and Ariana was furious. She moved all of her stuff into a spare room.

58 years into their marriage, Ariana said Lex was too old to be attractive, despite being named Sydney's most attractive woman over fifty a year prior. Lex confronted Ariana about her being faithful, and Ariana admitted that she was seeing someone else. The two got a divorce. Lex Evans was now Alexandra Miller.

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Book Review: Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

Since my 30th birthday was no picnic either, thanks to White Coats and un-fun diagnostics and sickness that colored me in various shades of fever-chartreuse, I felt an early kinship with Everly Dean and her roiling Birthday Disasters. (I've been there, too, girlfriend! I've been there, too!) Mind you, you'd think it would've been bad enough for her to only catch her skeezy boyfriend in bed with another woman, wouldn't you? Well, throw in accidentally broadcasting her romantic woes, live, on air, to thousands of listeners on the same day on top of that, and that's the kind of humiliation liable to turn a girl into an ice-cream-gorging recluse for the rest of her life!

While hermiting is likely how I would've reacted to the situation, in Everly's case, things pan out a little differently. She cannot afford to hide under the covers. She cannot avoid the fallout, especially not with her job and the fate of the radio station on the line. She must make a "fake it 'til you make it" list and just, I don't know, TRY to deal better. So after she receives an outpouring of support and encouragement from listeners after her on-air mishap, her boss, Chris, comes up with an idea to help both buoy the station's ratings and give her a shot at finding Mr. Right. Together, with some added help from Stacey, a friend and radio host, they concoct a Bachelorette-style setup where she will go on dates with eligible dudes and then choose a winner at the end of a few months. Sounds great in theory, no? There are two problems that themselves present quickly, however: 1) Everly suffers from serious social anxiety 2) Chris and Everly have chemistry, a connection that, the more they find themselves near or around each other, the harder it becomes to deny. There's quite a lot of inner monologuing and uncertainty on both ends as a result. As far as romance novels go, I'd say this one landed somewhere in the middle of the road. The premise was cute, saccharine, if a bit forgettable. It was about as vanilla as you could get as well, I won't lie. Personally I would've liked to have seen more Bachelorette-like dating sequences instead of only having had overviews of them. I suppose I was hoping for more awkwardness and abashment on Everly's dates so as to counteract the ease, compatibility, and understanding she and Chris shared whenever they hung out. Speaking of the two mains, by the way--Chris and Everly had a bit of a forbidden, no-fraternizing-at-work, slow burn romance in this. That's typically a trope I love, and while I did appreciate its inclusion here, it fell flatter than I had hoped it would. Chris's intense infatuation started long before they even struck up a friendship and I didn't care for the instalovey-ness of that. (Instalove seems to be my reading plague of 2020, y'all, I kid you not! Makes me want to scratch out my own eyeballs!) Worse, Everly seemed to be as resistant to date him for valid "reasons" as he was to go all in. I also didn't think Chris and Everly spent enough time together. Their head over heels entanglement felt a little shallow to me since they were often off dealing with work and parental issues alone instead of walking the forbidden love trapeze together. I needed more convincing of how, where, and why they were connecting. Not just a single movie night with popcorn and Veronica Mars, as adorably wholesome as that was. I will say that the depiction of social anxiety was the best part of the book for me. It paralyzed Everly in numerous ways throughout the narrative: at work, on dates, upon entering the gym, etc. I appreciated how the author showed how other characters were both frustrated and compassionate in their reactions to it as well, because isn't that a dichotomy we all encounter in real life on occasion? Sometimes people are sympathetic to our chronic struggles; other times, they grow impatient and ask if we can "let go" or "get over it already," as if it we could turn them off with a mere snap of our fingers. I loved the chomp of realness I could take away from all of that. Anyway, this one kind of reminded me of whipped cream: sweet, fluffy, but not deep. I wasn't absorbed by it but it was light and entertaining enough to keep my attention. I'm giving it 3 stars because of that. Many thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin's Griffith for the ARC in exchange for my review! 3/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

[drarryruinedme7]

Hate

I’ve had this word sitting in my ask box for forever.. time to revisit it for this little ficlet I wrote! Tagging @rockmarina, @rose-grangerweasleyisbae and @ununquadius ❤️To everyone who can’t enjoy their birthday: know you’re loved and I believe in you!❤️

Drarry | 1,7K | Rating: M | Tags: EWE, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Mention of Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Abusive Dursley Family, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, Mention of Hermione and Ron sleeping with Harry when he’s feeling bad, Dating, Amusement Park | Beta: @malenkayacherepakha and @bblgumbby 

Harry Potter Hates His Birthday

Harry Potter hated his birthday.

If it had been his choice, he’d erase the 31st of July from the calendar.

But unluckily, as much as he wished with every cell of his body for it to disappear, every year it showed up, right on time.

He would start feeling sick on the 30th, the day before. He’d wake up, take a look at the calendar and his breath would hitch, his heart beating furiously.

The first time it happened he was six years old.

Harry had thought he was gonna die. His heart was beating so fast it was painful and he was sure his time had come. But the thought hadn’t been disturbing — it almost felt freeing, a relief.

At least, he wouldn’t have had to live his birthday once again.

But after a good hour spent panicking, his stomach churning, making him nauseous and dizzy, he realised he was still alive.

So he got up and went on with his usual life, with no one taking as much as a look at him or wishing him a happy birthday.

Harry knew nothing about anxiety, panic attacks, abusive family. He only knew he felt sick to his bones, alone, and another year older.

He’d spend the day cooking, cleaning, and then closed in his cupboard playing with his toy soldiers.

He had asked once his Aunt Petunia if he could have new ones for his birthday, for his old ones were all ruined and broken by Dudley.

Petunia had looked at him with a raised eyebrow, shaking her head.

“Next time you’ll learn to treat the toys that your uncle Vernon bought you with his own money better.”

It wasn’t true. They were Dudley’s, but when he’d grown sick of them they’d given them to Harry.

Harry didn’t own anything — all he had, it had previously been Dudley’s.

That’s how growing up, he realised he had no idea what his tastes were.

Did he like shirts or t-shirts more? Red or blue? Toy soldiers or toy cars? Nothing.

So, at the age of 10, Harry decided he hated his birthday and he’d never ask his aunt and uncle for anything else.

He decided he wasn’t worth anything good in the world, it wasn’t worth celebrating his birth, he wasn’t worth pretty much anything.

He started living as a ghost, ignoring people’s disgusted faces at his over used clothes, Dudley’s taunts, his own feelings.

By now, he had figured something out. He knew there were things he liked and things he disliked, but he didn’t think anything of that. It wouldn’t bring anything good anyway.

As always, the day of his 10th birthday, Harry spent the day thinking his heart would jump out of his throat, his lungs threatening to collapse at any moment and with an inexplicable need to cry and cry and cry until he forgot his own name.

Things changed the day of his 11th birthday.

The 31st of July, 1991 had been different.

He was curled up on the floor of the crazy refuge where uncle Vernon had brought them to escape the owls, his eyes stinging.

For a second, for a second he had thought someone, anyone, had remembered his birthday and sent him something.

It had been a foolish desire, he knew it, but in the end, he couldn’t stop the tears that started rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the dust of the floor, staining Harry’s face.

A loud thump and a gigantic man entered the refuge, bellowing something about a school where Harry needed to go because he was a wizard.

Several clocks clicked in his head, now everything made sense. He wasn’t weird, sick, or a freak, he was a wizard!

And this man, Hagrid, had come to bring him to this new school where he’d learn magic  — Hogwarts — away from the Dursleys.

Away from the Dursleys!

That one, that one had been a memorable birthday.

But unfortunately, as much as Harry didn’t know anything about panic attacks and abusive family, he didn’t know a thing about ptsd and effects of trauma either.

His life had improved greatly, even with Voldemort at his heels. Honestly, anything was better than the Dursleys.

He even had new friends, and two best friends, Ron and Hermione. Life couldn’t be better than this.

Still, the day of his birthday, Harry woke up again with dread in every cell of his body, tears in his eyes, heart aching.

His friends hadn’t sent him letters, but it hadn’t been a shock. No one ever remembered his birthday.

He was still happy he had them and he’d get to meet them again in September, and he couldn’t wait to go back to Hogwarts.

So why was he still feeling like the day of his birth was a cursed day?

Harry never found an answer.

Every year, on time, his birthday would arrive and pass with wetness on his face, a sour taste in his mouth and a burning worse than fire in his chest.

He’d read his friends’ letters, eat the candies they’d sent him, flip through the photo album Hagrid gifted him and still.

Still think he didn’t deserve any of that, thinking his life wasn’t worth celebrating.

—–

The 31st of July, 1998 had been the worst of all of Harry’s birthdays.

A War had just ended, too many people had died, too many things were wrong to be happy, to even try and think his life could be different now or that he was worth living now.

Everyone had sent him something to celebrate, even strangers who only wanted to thank him for winning the War, for what he had done.

But what he had done exactly? Killed a man, let others die, died himself.

He burnt all the letters, threw away all the gifts, closed himself in Grimmauld Place, blocking everyone else out.

He’d finally cried until his throat had burnt, his head was throbbing and with the absolute certainty he wasn’t ever, ever, ever going to celebrate his birthday again in his life.

Then, luckily enough, in 1999, the day of his birthday became a wizarding National Holiday.

Not only did he have to celebrate it, but he even had to endure silly social parties, with thousands of people he had never met.

So now he had gone from ‘no one remembers my birthday’ to ‘everyone celebrates my birthday because I was brave enough to kill a man’.

What a reason to be remembered for.

At least now Harry knew.

Now Harry had started seeing a therapist, Rebecca, who explained to him a lot about triggers, trauma brain, panic attacks, anxiety.

He had now acquired new tools to keep them at bay, to endure the day and arrive at the end of it without drowning in self-hate.

Except for arriving at home every time with tears in his eyes, Hermione and Ron in the bed with him, holding him, silently telling him he was worth living and he was loved.

Five years after the War, it was the 31st of July, 2003. Harry was at a coffee shop with Neville, heartily laughing at one of his thousands of stories about his beloved plants.

Sometimes after the War, Harry had realised he shared his birthday with one of his dearest friends and from that day on, they would always spend the day together.

They’d joke during those stupid silly social parties, Neville would always say he ‘had risked being The Boy Who Lived by a whisker’, but ‘got away with it pretty well’, and that he ‘was celebrated in all of the Wizarding World but with the privilege of no gossiping and prints around’.

It had started to make Harry happier and more carefree. At last, he had a reason to be happy on the 31st of July. His best bud Neville was born!

And so here they were, drinking coffee and laughing together, when none other than Draco Malfoy entered the coffee shop, glowing blond hair and slender legs in tow.

Harry’s coffee stuck in his throat, making him cough, drawing Malfoy’s attention who turned his head and raised his eyebrows to the sky when he saw Harry.

He froze, looking from Neville to Harry several times before making a step and approaching them.

“Hello.”

Fuck, that voice. Harry thought he wouldn’t have never heard it again.

“Happy Birthday to both of you.” Malfoy’s hand stretched in front of them. Neville grasped it, thanked him.

Harry looked horrified when a thought formed in his mind. The War was over, the man standing in front of him right now had surely changed during the years, and he had remembered his birthday, of course.

It wouldn’t hurt to accept his hand, so he did. He grasped Malfoy’s hand, smiling and receiving a smile back from him too.

Malfoy had smiled, for real, to Harry. And Harry had had something like 2 seconds to realise Draco Malfoy was absolutely, undeniably, utterly, handsome.

And then he recalled every time during school, Malfoy had always remembered Harry’s birthday. To taunt him, of course, but he never had taunted anyone else on their birthday, right? It had all been for Harry.

It was such a stupid thought that Harry started laughing uncontrollably, because seriously if he was happy that someone had always remembered his birthday and not because of who he was, but to mock him, there was something wrong with him.

And Malfoy had tightened his grip on Harry’s hand and had looked worried at Neville, who shook his head amazed.

“Erm, are you okay, Potter?” Malfoy’s voice sounded amused and Harry found himself nodding, and a second after saying, “Great! What do you think of having dinner with me?”

Neville’s eyes widened so much Harry feared they’d fall down that instant, as Malfoy had laughed incredulously.

“Sure, Potter.”

But Harry wasn’t kidding. At 7 pm he was in front of Malfoy’s office — he worked as Unspeakable with Hermione, a couple of calls and Harry had been able to track him down.

They went out to dinner, had fun, went to the amusement park after, did some rides, bought cotton candy and a goldfish, named it Umbridge.

They went back together to Grimmauld Place, placed Umbridge in a fishbowl, fucked all night, laughed at their stupidity, laughed at the ridiculous situation.

Harry didn’t know how, but from that day on Draco Malfoy had never walked out of his house and life, and his birthday had stopped being so horrible.

[trueloveseyeroll]

The Dancing Thief (7/13)

Summary: Pretending to be a noblewoman might be the dumbest thing Emma has ever agreed to do. And she’s not sure if meeting Lord Killian Jones made the whole thing better or worse. (Better. Definitely better.)

Rating: T (language and mild violence)

Beta: The wonderful @forget-me-not-s​

Artist: The lovely @captxinswans - check out her amazing artwork for chapter 1 and chapter 2!!

Word count: 7713 (62k words in total)

Chapter 1

AO3

A/N: Now halfway through the story, I just want to give a massive thank you to anyone’s who’s liked, reblogged or simply read this story here on tumblr! It means so much to me, and I hope you keep enjoying it!!

Killian set the mug down with more force than necessary. Drops of rum clung to the scruff around his mouth and he no doubt reeked of the stuff.

He couldn’t care less.

The barmaid at his side was quick to give him a refill as Killian rolled the dice on the table. His opponent snarled at the two sixes, but Killian didn’t even feel much joy in having gained the upper-hand. He didn’t feel much joy about the rum, or the willing women around him or anything else. He just wanted to forget.

Liam would’ve been disgusted with him at the state he was in. He would’ve told Killian to pull himself together, that nothing was worth wasting away over.

But Liam was gone. He’d been gone for over a year now, buried at sea like any good captain should be. And Liam had been the finest captain ever to sail the seas. The best brother Killian could ever have hoped for. And he should have been celebrating his 30th birthday today, but instead, he was lost at the bottom of the ocean, and Killian was drowning his pain in rum.

His opponent rolled an unfortunate set, losing the game with a growl. He slammed the wagered coins next to Killian’s refilled mug and left the table.

The women around him purred their approval, one even going so far as to stroke his arm. The touch made his stomach turn. “Leave me,” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. They did as he requested, leaving him alone with his rum and newly earned coins.

Killian wasn’t usually averse to the warmth of a willing woman. Most nights he would fall in bed alone, but every now and then, he’d find someone to accompany him in a tavern such as this one. Brothels had never been to his liking. Many noblemen frequented them in a badly kept secret, but the clink of coins hand in hand with pleasure just didn’t sit right with Killian. If he fell into bed with anyone, they should be equals, and in an equal need for pleasure.

After Liam’s death, Killian had visited plenty of lowly taverns. For the first three months, he’d spent more time drunk than sober, and barely made it home to his bed most nights.

He’d been a mess. A right and utter mess. When the pain of Liam’s loss finally lessened, just a little bit, Killian swore he would do better. He would try to be the kind of man Liam would want him to be. During the following year, he had failed countless times, and the guilt always drove him deeper into self-destruction.

But now...

No.

Killian shook his head at himself, clenching his jaw as he willed himself to stop thinking of green eyes and a stunning smile followed by an equally beautiful laugh. Her charm and elegance, but also her bluntness and wit had enchanted Killian from the first moment he spoke with her, as much as he tried to deny it. But he couldn’t bear to think of Emma now, not in this despicable state.

She deserved better than him. So what if she was of lesser nobility, or had appeared out of the blue as his friends said. She was kind and smart, and would no doubt turn her face in disgust if she saw him now, drunk and alone in a tavern.

Thinking of Emma was nearly as painful as thinking of Liam. Thinking of that bloody, wonderful, unforgettable kiss she’d bestowed on his cheek made his skin burn, and when the women at the tavern tried to touch him, he felt sick. He wanted to go back to that moment on the balcony, before Phillip had interrupted, back when there had been a chance to feel her lips against his own.

Perhaps Phillip’s interruption had been for the best though. There was no telling what that kiss might have done to Killian.

The rum burned in his throat, but after countless of servings he hardly noticed. He wanted to drink until his mind numbed, until everything went dark, and he was well on his way to sleep. Just a few more drinks and he’d fall over that blissful edge...

Killian stared at the rum left in his mug. As much as he wanted to drink until he blacked out, he knew it wouldn’t really help. In the morning, he’d wake up feeling no better about himself. On the contrary in fact. He couldn’t forget himself in between the sheets with a woman either, the very thought making his insides turn. Perhaps he could start a fight - the man whose money he’d won seemed a likely participant in a tavern brawl.

Killian downed the rest of the rum, prepared to throw a punch and receive a few in return. His balance wavered as he stood up, his vision blurring. He breathed in slowly, allowing himself a minute to regain his senses.

The man stood near the bar, acquainting himself with the warmth of a barmaid. It would be easy to go over there and give him a shove.

But it would be more pointless than easy.

Killian grabbed the coins on his table and strode across the room. The metal clunked against the bar counter, and while the bartender looked at him with surprise, Killian offered no words in return. He simply left the coins where they were, turned around and left the tavern.

The cool air of midnight was a relief against his skin. He would’ve paused to let the chill wash over him, but now that his legs were moving, he couldn’t bring them to stop.

The tavern he’d been to was in the lower part of Misthaven, near the harbour, and about an hour away from the noble district on foot. He could stay at the harbour, find a nook or a tavern to sleep in, but in his drunken state of mind, time didn’t work in the same way. He barely noticed the walk home. He couldn’t even remember making the decision to go home and sleep in his own bed. It was the right thing to do though, he supposed. Besides, his father always hated when he came home late at night. He’d told Killian more than once to sleep off his drunken stupor somewhere else.

I’m sorry to disappoint once again, father, Killian though with a smirk. As much as he wanted Liam to be proud of him, and Emma to keep looking at him as if he was a good, albeit arrogant man, he couldn’t care less about Brennan’s disappointment in him. After all, Brennan had been the one to disappoint first.

A few guards looked his way when he entered the keep, but Killian didn’t care. No one stopped him or said as much as a ‘good evening’ to him. They just let him pass, and soon enough he was in the corridor leading to his chambers and - coincidently - his father’s study.

Just as he’d expected, the door that had been ajar was fully opened mere seconds after Killian passed it.

“Killian,” Brennan said, standing in the door to his study. “I thought we talked about this behaviour.”

“We did. And as you might recall, I didn’t make any promises to stop it,” Killian answered flippantly, continuing down the hall.

“Killian,” Brennan said again, this time grabbing Killian’s shoulder. He spun around, forcefully leaning away from his father’s touch. A few centimetres separated them in height, Killian the taller one, but it didn’t stop Brennan from looking at him as if he were a child. “You can’t do as you please anymore, you have a reputation to uphold and responsibilities to -”

“I’m well aware of my bloody responsibilities,” Killian spit out. He hadn’t started studying politics and history at balls for nothing. He hadn’t started taking an interest in all of Liam’s ideas out of pure sentimentality. And he didn’t engage in long discussions with his friends about how to lead, and how to ensure better lives for everyone, just for the sake of it.

Just because he didn’t meet with the tutors and lecturers that Brennan pushed his way, didn’t mean he wasn’t preparing himself for becoming the Duke now that Liam was dead.

Of course, Brennan was mainly angry because Killian refused to follow in his steps.

“Then act like it!” he all but shouted, his patience with Killian wearing thin. “I let you deal with your grief as you pleased for three months, but it’s been over a year since Liam’s death-”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Killian interrupted again, the threat clear in his tone.

“I’m allowed to say the name of my own son.”

“Not after what you did to him.”

“I did nothing but care for him, Killian. Just as I care about you, despite your refusal to acknowledge it.”

“Cared for him?” Killian repeated, disbelieving. “Well, if you cared for him so bloody much, you should know what day it is today.”

Killian hadn’t really thought Brennan would be oblivious to the day’s importance. Yes, it was past midnight, but surely Brennan would know what he was talking about. Surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten his own son’s birthday.

But when Brennan didn’t immediately answer, Killian’s faith in his father cracked just a little more.

“It’s his birthday,” he said, his voice hoarse and aching. “It’s his birthday. He should have turned 30 today, instead he died a year ago procuring a fucking plant you asked him to find.”

A flicker of sorrow, regret even, passed across Brennan’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a hardened shield. “I’ve told you countless times, I thought the herb had healing properties. I didn’t know it was poisonous. Do you really think I would’ve sent my own sons out to procure a deadly herb without telling them the truth of it? That my intention was to murder Liam?”

“All I know is that I had to watch him die in my arms, helpless to do anything about it.”

Brennan sighed, but Killian went on, refusing to let him speak. “And the night before we departed, I know he went to your study. I know you had a row; I heard both of you yelling in disagreement, and I know not of what, but I know you let us set sail without even trying to make amends with him.”

His words clearly surprised Brennan. Killian had never let anyone know of the raised voices he had heard. Numerous times, he’d wanted to shout at his father, demand to know what they’d been arguing about, but the knowledge wouldn’t bring Liam back, and Killian had been too afraid of the truth. Afraid to find out that his father was every bit as terrible as he believed him to be.

“The disagreement between Liam and I is of none of your concern,” Brennan said slowly, carefully. “But I can assure you, it had nothing to do with your mission or the consequences of its fulfilment.”

Killian wanted to believe him. He desperately wanted to trust his father’s words, but his gut told him not to. He still didn’t know why Brennan had received several calling cards from Gold in the month leading up to Liam’s death or the days after. He didn’t know why they’d started to appear on his desk again now. And until he knew, he needed Brennan to stay oblivious to the fact that he’d seen the hints of correspondence, lest those hints started to disappear.

When Killian said nothing, Brennan sighed again. “It’s late, Killian. You’re tired and obviously drunk. I know you’re in pain, but this needs to stop; you need to find another way out of this. I suggest sleeping as a start.”

Killian clenched his jaw, his fist yearning to throw that punch he had denied himself in the tavern. “Fuck you,” he hissed instead.

The words lingered in the air as he turned around and left his father in the middle of the corridor.

When the door to his chambers was locked behind him, he finally allowed himself to cry, sinking down on his bed still fully clothed. During the past year, he’d sobbed and he’d smashed things with tears of anger in his eyes, but tonight, he stayed silent in the dark of the room. He let the weight of his pain lull him to sleep, and when he woke up from dark dreams, he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

---------------

Shortly after mid-March, Emma had passed through the doors of Keep Jones, making her first appearance at court. Now, towards the end of April, she stood in the ballroom again, admiring the glass-stained windows. This time however, she knew the faces around her. She accepted dance offers from young lords and knights, mingled with several groups of nobles and no longer doubted her abilities at playing a noblewoman.

But she stayed far away from the balcony.

He was there, in his favourite spot, almost every time she looked. As expected, he stood with a book, leaning up against the wall or the railing of the balcony. And he looked unfairly handsome, even if she could barely see him at all. She just knew he looked good.

Sometimes, the spot would be vacant, and Emma wondered where he was instead. With his friends? At the drinks table? With another lady?

She hated herself for feeling jealous at the thought.

She hated that she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

(She liked him, god dammit.)

Well into the evening, Emma stood near the orchestra, watching couples dance on the floor. The point had been reached where everyone had had a few glasses of wine or whiskey, and although the nobles weren’t nearly as wild as any tavern crowd, the effects of alcohol could be felt. Emma usually found this moment in the evening perfect for gathering gossip.

Tonight though, she may have drunk a little too much wine herself. Rather than risk embarrassing herself, she’d secluded herself from the mingling nobles, just for the time being. Hopefully, standing so close to the orchestra would sober her up a bit.

Not that she was drunk, per se. She’d find Robin and tell him it was time to leave if she truly felt drunk (or he’d tell her it was time to leave, if he thought she looked too intoxicated).

No, she was just pleasantly tipsy. And a pleasantly tipsy Emma enjoyed watching the couples dancing, without having to participate in any dance or conversation herself.

“Swan!”

The swoop in her belly whenever he said her name would never get old.

“Jones!” she replied, meeting his blue eyes with a smile.

He lifted an eyebrow - after all, she’d always referred to him as lord, even if he’d decided to strip away the formality when addressing her.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Killian said, leaning towards her. He probably only did it so he didn’t have to shout over the music, but Emma’s skin tingled nonetheless.

“Avoiding you?” she repeated. Yes, they hadn’t spoken since the evening of the tournament four days ago, but she’d only attended one ball since then, and it was only by chance they hadn’t run into each other. Tonight though...

“Indeed, Swan. I’ve been up on that balcony all evening, and you haven’t tried to steal my spot even once.”

Emma shrugged, a smile still lingering on her lips. “I could hardly steal it while you were there, could I?”

“Fair enough,” he replied, eyes twinkling. Why the hell did he have to be so rakishly handsome anyways? “But you could have paid me a visit. It’s unlike you to not interrupt when I’m reading.”

It was Emma’s turn to raise her eyebrow. “Are you saying you missed me, Lord Killian?”

Inwardly, she cursed himself for sounding so... flirtatious. But Killian didn’t seem to mind, his lips curling into a playful smirk. “Of course not, Lady Emma.”

His playful tone made it obvious that he was lying, and Emma was almost giddy at the thought that Killian would miss her enough to find her himself. And let her know that he missed her.

(Well, fuck. Emma must have been drunker than she thought, because she was never giddy.)

“I have a confession to make,” she said, rather abruptly.

Intrigued, (maybe even hopeful?), Killian tilted his head. “Most women do.”

“I want to know why people keep saying you’re the troublemaker of court.” Truly, she had wondered about this. David had warned her about him, and Regina hadn’t been shy about insulting him, but aside from his cockiness, she hadn’t seen him cause much trouble. “Reading books and refusing to dance can hardly be that problematic.”

“Well, perhaps I’ve been known to cause more trouble in the past,” he said, his voice lower than before. Gruff, almost. However, in true Killian Jones fashion, a smug mask was quickly put in place. “But rest assured, Swan; I’m still a devilishly handsome scoundrel.”

“Sure you are,” Emma said, all but rolling her eyes at him. She knew he had stayed away from Aurora’s birthday because he didn’t want to cause her any trouble. And yet he’d showed up when his best friend asked him to.

Killian Jones surely meant trouble for her, but he wasn’t as bad as David made him sound.

(Of course, there was still the very real possibility that he was only entertaining her to annoy his father, as David assumed. That didn’t explain why she’d never seen Lord Brennan around whenever she spoke with Killian though.)

“What about you, Swan? Last we were in this hall, you said you were overwhelmed by your first experience at court. Have your feelings changed since then?”

“Yeah. I mean, I doubt I’d still be here if they hadn’t.”

“You’re a tough lass,” Killian said. “I’m sure you would have braved your way through it.”

The compliment was unexpected, but before she could dwell on it, Killian spoke again. “Have you painted much since you arrived?”

Right. She’d lied to him and told him she enjoyed painting during one of their first conversations. It was still nice of him to remember though. “Not a lot,” she answered, the lie slipping off her tongue as easily as all the others she’d told in the past five weeks. “I usually painted the landscapes at home anyway.”

Killian was about to say something when Emma felt a yawn coming. She did her best to stifle it, not wanting him to think she was bored - truly, now that she thought of it, she was really tired - but he noticed immediately, and whatever he was about to say was forgotten. “Tired, Swan?”

Emma smiled sheepishly. “A bit. To be fair though, I’m sure I’ve danced a lot more than you have this evening.”

“I’d wager you’re right,” Killian smiled; this soft, warm smile that made Emma’s insides melt. “And I’d hate to keep you up if you’d rather retire for the night.”

“No, it’s alright,” Emma said, and she wasn’t sure what embarrassed her more: the hastiness of her reply, or the yawn she failed to stifle right after.

Killian laughed. “It’s late, Swan. Go home - sleep.”

Emma wasn’t much for people telling her what to do, even if they meant to be kind and helpful. But with the way Killian was smiling at her, she didn’t find herself minding it at all. She knew he probably wouldn’t push the matter if she stayed, but she was tired. And so she bid him goodnight, leaving him with a smile as she went to find Robin.

Thinking of their conversation had her smiling widely as she laid under the covers of her bed. They’d both flirted with the other, and things had been light and easy (possibly due to her tipsy state) - and they hadn’t almost kissed, which meant she could think of the encounter without blushing and scolding herself. She could just curl under her blankets, her stomach fluttering as she secretly smiled to herself.

----------

The next day, a package arrived for Emma at the townhouse. There was no envelope attached, and whoever had sent it didn’t leave their name on the wrapping.

Emma knew who it was from as soon as she opened it though.

The wrapping gave way to the finest set of paints Emma had ever seen, a small note attached to it.

I hope these paints are to your liking. And that Misthaven and all it has to offer (such as a dashing fellow like myself) doesn’t leave your muse wanting - K.

Emma shook her head at him as she read the note, a smile forming on her lips. Snow looked at her knowingly, but fortunately, she agreed it wasn’t necessary for David to learn of the gift.

----------

He had been resolved to not give her the paints. For the past weeks, they had been hiding behind books on his shelf, but even if he couldn’t see them, he was acutely aware of their presence.

So he sent them.

He actually sent them.

He just bloody hoped she didn’t think him a fool.

But his friends would certainly think him a fool if he didn’t stop imagining Emma’s reaction upon opening the gift long enough to answer the question Phillip had asked.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Killian said, hoping the answer matched the question he’d only half-heard. It probably didn’t, but Phillip didn’t seem to mind as he was smirking at Killian with a knowing look. Thomas as well.

“I asked what time you left the ball last night, but never mind that, I’m more interested in the thoughts causing that dreamful look on your face.”

“Only someone special can get a man to wear that look,” Thomas supplied. And well, he wasn’t wrong, Killian supposed.

At the end of the table in Phillip’s study, Eric sighed. “Please tell me it’s not Lady Emma Swan.”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Killian asked, perhaps a bit too quickly and a bit too defensively if he didn’t want to prove his friends right.

“We’ve talked about this before, Killian, she’s just not... she doesn’t seem very trustworthy,” Eric said, as kindly as he could, while still being honest.

“And you’ve talked to her all of what, two times?” Killian asked. “How could you possibly know if she’s trustworthy or not?”

“I...” Eric paused as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he should speak his mind. “None of us liked the fact that we’d never heard of her or her family before, so I had her house watched, just-”

“You what?” Killian interrupted, unable to believe Eric would stoop to such a level.

“I know it sounds bad -”

“It sounds bloody horrible. She’s done nothing but be kind and you-”

“My servant saw her leave the house alone, Killian. Several times, during any hour of the day, and in common garb. He hardly recognized her the first time.”

That gave Killian pause, but still, so what if she liked to wear the clothes of common people and go out on her own? Maybe that’s how she used to live in the country. “I fail to see how that proves she’s untrustworthy.”

“My servant followed her. And several times, she ended up at The Red Wolf – remember, that tavern we went to a few weeks ago. My servant has even seen her talking with the barkeep as if they’re old friends - but why would she have a good friend in the city when she’s never been here before? And the barkeep of a tavern we’ve visited, where we’ve discussed more delicate matters... she could have relayed information to Emma, or Emma might even have been there herself.”

Killian’s jaw ticked, refusing to acknowledge what Eric was implying. That she was a spy...

“Well, Aurora’s good friends with her,” Phillip said.

“Ella too.”

“But of course, if she can fool you, Killian, she might be able to fool them too,” Phillip continued. “And I... I did see her speaking to Lady Regina during one of her first balls here. Perhaps...”

“Do you all think she’s a bloody spy?” Killian all but yelled, sitting at the edge of his seat with his hands balled into fists.

Quietly, Phillip admitted, “I hate to say it, but it’s a possibility.”

“She did show up at the same time as you started noticing more calling cards from Gold,” Thomas said, as if the two could possibly be connected.

“And when the King started to feel ill,” Eric added.

Killian shook his head at them, furious at what they were saying. “I need some air,” he said at last, unable to deal with the rage within him.

And worse, the doubt.

He thought of all the times he had spoken with Emma, her honesty - sometimes brutal - her nervousness about dancing in the beginning and the way she seemed so much more at home now. The soft kiss she had bestowed his cheek... was it all just a ruse? An act designed to get close to him and learn his secrets so she could relay them to Regina or Gold or maybe even his own father.

It hurt more than he was willing to admit. He’d only just begun to allow himself to feel something for her, to send her those damned paints... he didn’t want to think of how much it would hurt if he discovered that Emma truly was lying to him. He’d be more than a fool then. He’d be a bloody mess.

[a-winchester-fairytale]

The Teddy Bear Doctor

Summary:  You must take your daughter to the hospital, and both of you are surprised by the gorgeous doctor that walks into the room.

Word Count: 1,674

Warnings:  Childhood fear of doctors, adorable Dean, fluff

A/N:  This one is for @roxyspearing 30th birthday challenge.  My prompt was "Well, it just so happens that on Thursday, we are Teddy Bear doctors" and is in bold below.  Hope you enjoy this little story and have a great 30th birthday!!

Thank you to everyone for reading my work, and please remember that feedback is always welcome. :)

You sat in the hospital room with your little girl, Emily as she clutched her teddy bear close to her chest for protection.  You knew that most children hated having to see a doctor, and at times like this you wish you hadn’t been forced to move to Lawrence, Kansas – away from your regular pediatrician.

Emily had always been a shy child, and having to leave the only home she ever knew and all of her friends seemed to make her crawl deeper into the shell she created.  You were pondering all of this when the door to the room finally opened and a man you thought looked way too young to be a doctor stepped inside with a nurse at his side.

“Hi, I’m Dean.”  He said, shaking your hand before turning and facing your daughter.  “and you must be Emily.”  He said with a warm smile.  She nodded, hiding her face behind the bear.

Dean pulled up a stool to the side of the bed and sat down, Emily never taking her eyes off of him.  You listened to him as the nurse handed you some papers to start filling out and signing.

“Who is this?”  Dean asked, reaching out and touching the arm of her bear.

“Teddy.”  Her tiny voice replied.

“That sounds like a perfect name, Teddy.”  He said, nodding.  “It says here on this chart that someone has been feeling bad lately.” 

You began explaining to him everything that had been happening with Emily the last couple of days.  He listened, making an occasional note, but mostly watching her reactions to what you were saying.  Each part seemed to make her more and more afraid.  When you were finished, he handed the chart back to his nurse and slid the stethoscope off of his shoulders.

“Now Emily, I want you to be very honest with me.”  He started.  She glanced quickly to you and you nodded, his next words not at all what you were expecting.  “Has Teddy been feeling bad too?”

You glanced up at the nurse, who was smiling.  She nodded in reassurance and before you could protest, you noticed that Emily responded with a nod.

“I thought so.”  Dean told her.  I think I may have to check him out to be sure he is okay.”  He added, a complete straight face. 

“But I thought you were a doctor for kids like me.”  Emily finally spoke, her face contorted in confusion.

“Well, it just so happens that on Thursday, we are Teddy Bear doctors.”  He answered, gesturing to his nurse. 

“You can’t be more than one thing.”  Emily insisted stubbornly.

“Of course you can.”  Dean told her.  He leaned closer to her so he could whisper before he told her, “When you are a grown up, you can do anything you want.”

You saw Emily turning that over in her mind as Dean looked back at you and winked.  You covered your mouth to hide the smile that was forming at the interaction between Dean and your daughter, each word making him more adorable in your own eyes.

“He’s scared.”  Emily said, biting down on the corner of her lip the same way you did when you were nervous.

“How about you help me with that?”  Dean proposed.  “I’ll let you listen to my heart and then I’ll listen to yours to prove to Teddy here that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I don’t know….”  She said, clutching the bear tighter.

“You want him to feel better, don’t you?”  He asked, concerned.  Emily nodded, sitting up in the bed and loosening her grip on her bear.

Dean handed her the stethoscope, instructing her to put the ends in her ears like she was going to listen to music.  She did as he instructed and he held the other end to his chest.  You giggled as her eyes grew bigger when she heard his heartbeat.

“Pretty cool, right?”  Dean asked, and she nodded furiously.  “Now I’m going to listen to yours, okay?”

“Can I hear it too?”  She asked and he laughed at her sudden excitement.

“Of course you can.”  He replied, handing her the ear pieces again after he had listened to her heart and lungs.

That’s how the rest of the examination went, he first allowed her to take control and examine his ears, throat, etc, proving that it wouldn’t hurt her.  Then she gladly allowed him to do the same to her, treating it like a game they were playing.  After a while, she would even forget to do the same to Teddy.

“Ok, Emily.  You stay here and keep Teddy company.  I’m going to borrow your mom for a few minutes, okay?”  Dean asked and she nodded curling back up in the bed.

“I’ll be right outside.”  You told her before blowing her a kiss and following Dean and the nurse outside the door.

“I’ll make some copies of your insurance paperwork for the file and be back in a few moments.”  The nurse told you and headed down the hall to the nurse’s station.

“Thank you for doing all of that with her.”  You started, and Dean shrugged.

“She’s a sweet kid.  I know it’s scary to come to the hospital and have strangers poking and prodding at you.  I just wanted her to know she didn’t have to be afraid.”  He explained, running his hand on the back of his neck to hide the color that you saw in his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but feel drawn to this doctor, never having seen anyone else interact with Emily and reach her in the same way Dean had in the 30 minutes he had spent in that room.  You listened, trying to ignore how handsome he was, as he explained what he believed to be wrong.

“I would like to keep her here overnight to see if the medicine will bring her fever down to a normal level, if that’s alright.”  He finished and you nodded.  “Provided the antibiotics begin working, she should be alright to go home tomorrow.”  He added reassuringly, putting his hand on your arm for comfort.

“Thank you.”  You repeated, smiling gratefully for the compassion you saw in his eyes.

Dean promised to check on Emily throughout the night and then with one more squeeze of his hand, he went down the hall to see his next patient.  You walked quietly back into the room and saw the Emily had fallen asleep in your absence.  You smiled lovingly at her before pulling the blanket gently up to her shoulders. 

As promised, Dean came by the room several times during his shift.  He would quietly check her monitors and the temperature that the nurses had been taking every hour.  Each time he would smile and nod to let you know that everything was going well.

Around 4 in the morning, Dean came in but he no longer wore the doctor’s coat and scrubs.  He looked different in the jeans, boots, and t-shirt, the muscles in his arms and chest more pronounced as he flipped through the pages in her chart.

“Did you just finish your shift?”  You whispered and he nodded. 

“Do you want to come with me to get some coffee?”  He asked.  “I know where they keep the good stuff.”  He added, gesturing to the half full cup next to you with a wink.

You glanced at Emily, hesitating, but nodded.  You set your blanket aside and got up from the chair, tiptoeing out of the room behind him.  He stopped in front of the door marked Staff Only and put a finger to his lips before opening it and gesturing for you to follow him inside. 

“Are you sure this is okay?”  You asked, a little nervous about the secrecy.  Dean just laughed.

“It’s fine.”  He told you.  “I have a tendency to turn everything into a game.  Occupational hazard.”  He joked with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Being a doctor that worked with kids all day, he had to hang on to some of the innocence he had in his own youth.  Most people found it childish, but you had to admit that you found it endearing.  He poured a cup coffee for each of you and then led you to one of the tables set up in the middle of the room.

The two of you talked into the morning.  He answered questions about his family and how he ended up as a doctor. You told him about the reasons you and Emily moved to Lawrence after your divorce.  In spite of the subject matter, the conversation was light and he made you laugh.

As the night wore on, you realized that you were starting to grow feelings for Dean.  It had been so long since you had been able to talk so openly with anyone, and you couldn’t remember the last time you had just laughing and joking around with a handsome guy.

You even told Dean about your concerns for Emily and how closed off she had become since having to leave her home in Ohio.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you for today.  It is the first time I have seen her smile and be happy like she was with you earlier, in spite of her sickness.”  You told him.

“You are such a strong person, and a good mom.”  Dean replied, taking you by surprise.  “I know you worry about Emily, but she will be okay, and I don’t just mean physically.”

“I better get back.”  You said, blushing.  You glanced over your shoulder at the door, thinking that Emily would wake up soon and you didn’t want her to be alone when she did.  The two of you rose from the table.

“Maybe sometime I can take you out for dinner.”  He suggested, his eyes on the floor. 

“I’d like that, a lot.”  You admitted, smiling.  He glanced up at your face then and returned the smile before watching you head back to Emily’s room.

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[awkward-radar-tech]

This Too Shall Pass

Summary: It was love at first sight when you saw businessman Armitage Hux for the first time. Two years later you were married and living the perfect life. When Hux gets promoted to CEO, your perfect life changes into one of misery. Thankfully, just like your perfect life, this time of misery shall pass, too.

A/N: I am sorry for the heartbreak this causes.

Prompt from @michaelathewordsmith:  Treacherous x I Knew You Were Trouble x I Almost Do + The Moment I Knew + The Last Time: Hux x Reader 

With Hux's line of work it is inevitable to have a hectic schedule and his wife, the reader is tired with the same old cycle of broken promises but when the infidelity is revealed the divorce papers are on the desk waiting for a signature that will set the both of them free.

Part 2 -- Part 3

Life had been perfect for years, at 22 you met a dashing ginger gentleman who had a bright future ahead of him while giving a CPR class to his team, and your connection was almost instant. He was only 25 and already was fourth in command in the American branch of his company, which ran two high end restaurant chains and a few fast-casual and themed casual sit-down chains, and was on track to become CEO one day. He was a bit of a celebrity in the company, but to you he was just Armitage Hux. You fell hard, within six months you were living in his condo part time, and after a year you had moved in completely. Just 18 months after meeting you were engaged, and got married six months later. The wedding was all you could imagine, your dream dress, dream location, dream man, and most importantly you were going on your dream honeymoon. You were living your dream life, traveling with your husband to different countries for business and pleasure, attending fancy parties with amazing food either for company success or the promotion of your husband, you didn't have to worry about money or a job, and you got to do what you wanted when you wanted. You cried tears of joy when on your 5 year wedding anniversary Hux told you he had just been voted CEO. And that is when your perfect life began to slip away.

Being the CEO of a child company meant he had to fly to London for around two weeks every quarter to meet with the heads of the parent company and the other child companies. He now had to be present at every opening of a new high end restaurant that he could attend. Since you couldn't attend any of the meetings that accompanied these trips, this meant you were left alone, a lot. Hux felt guilty for leaving you so much that he gave you an orange kitten before he told you he was now CEO, and also made/sternly asked the employees he was closest with, he only considered one a friend, to keep you company when he was gone.

You became close friends with Phasma, Ben “Kylo Ren” Organa-Solo, and Dopheld Mitaka. You even somehow became friends with Kylo’s cousin Rey and her friends, Finn, Poe, and Rose. You could count on going to dinner with Phasma every night Hux was away since she has known him the longest, and was the only friend Armitage had before he met you. You normally had lunch with Hux when he wasn't busy or out of town, which was now the “special occasion”, and the new normal was lunch with Kylo, Mitaka, and Phasma, or a selection of them if one or two were busy. If all of them happened to be busy you had lunch with Rey and sometimes her friends tagged along.

But outside of those meal times, it was just you and Millicent the cat most of the time. Every once in a while you would get a call from Rey asking if you wanted to co-pilot the test drive of her most recent refurbishment, being the head mechanic of the best classic car refurbishment and auto body shop in the state had its perks. On weekends when Hux was away, Phasma and Kylo would take you to concerts, Mitaka would take you to museums, the zoo, or the aquarium (he had the face and the heart of a child), and with the “Resistance”, as Rey and her friends liked to call themselves, you would do fun and weird things like paint and sip classes, cooking classes, or interesting pinterest crafts at somebody's home. You were kept busy, but each week you found yourself feeling more and more alone and not wanting to get out of bed.

It was nearing your 30th birthday, meaning Armitage had been CEO for about 9 months now, and you weren't doing very well in the mental health department although only Millie knew that. Your friends noticed that you had been kind of off the past month and a half, but they bought that you were just missing Hux since he was gone a majority of that time. They decided to plan you a birthday party on a weekend when Hux would be home to help cheer you up. When you called to tell Hux about it, he said he was putting it onto his calendar right then so he could make it. Following the phone call, you laid in bed wondering what he was up to right now. There was no background noise in the call, so you figured he was in his hotel room. You closed your eyes and imagined him lounging in one of the chairs, reading something for work on his tablet even though he had just finished a long day full of meetings because Mr. Armitage Hux, the 33-year-old CEO of First Order Enterprises: North America, had to be doing something work related in 85% of his waking hours or else he wasn't being productive enough. You missed your husband so much, and in this moment you found yourself rolled up into your blankets, imagining he was here holding you. You sincerely hoped he would keep this promise unlike the last few, and if he didn't you don't know what you would do.

The party

You walked into Phasma’s house, wearing Hux’s favorite color on you, red, in hopes that he will recognize the woman he has been leaving behind and make more of an effort to be around you more.

Phasma was the first to greet you, giving you a giant hug to match her giant stature, “Damn girl, you really are making 30 look great! If you and the mister can't wait to get home, I put fresh sheet on the guest room bed, just in case.”

You laughed and playfully smacked her on the arm, “Phas! I think we will be fine… if he shows up. And thank you, tonight is about me so I made sure my outfit about me, and went all out.”

“If I have to go drag that idiot out of his office, I will.”

“Thank you Phasma, you're the best.”

“I know.”

You walked around and spent a few minutes each having nice conversations with Kylo, Mitaka, Rey, Finn, Poe, Rose, and a few of your long time friends that came from out of town. You did your best to ignore how much time was passing and you have yet to see your most anticipated guest. After two hours your friends left to begin their 4 hour drive home, and after saying goodbye to them you couldn't hold in your sadness any more. After walking back into the house, you practically ran to the bathroom farthest down the hallway from the living area. Phasma noticed and gave you a moment before following you.

She lightly tapped on the open door before entering, “Hey (y/n), you are going to be okay. Do you want me to go get that idiot now?”

You looked up at your friend through your tears, “I don't know if I want to see him or talk to him right now. Can you just go there and tell him I'm staying here tonight and maybe yell at him?”

Phasma rubbed your shoulder, “I will gladly yell at him. Do you want me to send anybody else down here to keep you company while I'm away?”

“No, I just want to sit here alone and calm down for a bit. Thank you Phas.”

“Anything for you.”

Phasma at the office building

She stood in the elevator patiently waiting for it to take her up the 20 floors to the top of the building. She always thought it was pretentious for the CEO’s office to be on the top floor. If she ever became CEO, not like she actually wanted to, she would have her office on a lower floor so she wouldn't have to be in the elevator for so damn long. She finally reached the top and stepped out. Just as she had suspected, Hux’s office lights were on, so she slowly walked over. A few feet away from the door, she froze. Did she just hear what she thought she heard? He couldn't be cheating on (y/n), could he? Phasma just stood and listened, and there was no denying what was happening in that room. The moans from the woman asking Hux to go harder, telling him she was close, that his cock was the best she has ever felt; Hux telling her she couldn't cum yet, that he wasn’t done with her yet, and to take his cock like the slut she was. Phasma was not about to make this situation awkward, so she returned to the elevator and stood in it until it opened and the woman was standing on the other side. To make this situation even more cliche than it already was, Hux was fucking his 26 year-old secretary, who had been accompanying him on all his trips since becoming CEO.

Phasma decided to play it nonchalantly, like she just got there, “Oh, interesting to see you here this late Amber.”

“I was just sorting through a bunch of files for Mr. Hux is all. Why are you here this late?”

“I was sent to pull him away from work to attend his wife’s birthday party. Have a good night and weekend Amber, see you on Monday.”

“You too Ms. Phasma.”

She walked with a sense of vengeance to Hux’s office because boy was he going to be getting an ear full. She burst into the office, startling Hux who was looking over a document while sipping from a glass of brandy.

She didn't bother for pleasantries before laying into him, “ARMITAGE BRENDOL HUX WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! Not only do you miss your loving wife’s birthday party, ruining her one birthday wish, you were fucking your secretary! How long have you been cheating on (y/n)?! You know her mental health has declined significantly in the past few months? I secretly had a key made for me in fear one day she wouldn't be at the door to greet me, either from being too sick to get out of bed or worse. She tries to hide that she is sick, and everybody else believes her lies, but I know the truth. If you didn't want to be with her anymore, why didn't you get a divorce before abandoning her and fucking younger chicks. I was already sent here to tell you (y/n) doesn't want to see or talk to you tonight and to possibly yell at you, but now I'm glad I came. I am going to move (y/n) out of your filthy house tomorrow, and get a lawyer working on divorce papers so she can be free from your torment. Why would you ruin such an amazing relationship Hux? You are such a dumb ass, you said you would never become your father, but here you are, cheating on your wife with the secretary, leaving her alone more than being with her, the only thing you need now is to knock Amber up with a redheaded baby boy and you'll be golden. The only differences are that (y/n) cares about you unconditionally, she isn't the daughter of some rich dude like your step-mother, (y/n) will be getting a divorce for her own good, and you are sitting in the position you dad always wanted but could never have. Bye you fucking idiot, and don't try to contact her. See you later.” Phasma turned on her heel and began to walk away.

“Wait, Phasma, let me explain.”

She paused but didn't turn around, “What is there to explain Hux? You blew off your wife’s birthday party so ‘daddy could fuck his pretty little slut’. And yeah I caught you, I didn't barge in when I arrived because a) I don’t need to see your dick and b) I didn’t want to make things awkward for everybody so I waited in the elevator until Amber left. And I'm not going to accept that Amber made you do it, you were way too into that. Just accept that you fucked up astronomically big time and there is no turning back now. I'll give you 30 seconds to start a legitimate excuse, and then I'm leaving.”

Hux sighed and began, “I was just being an idiot, at first she was coming along to transcribe the meetings for me but one trip about three months in I was in my room drinking because I missed (y/n) a lot and Amber showed up at my door and in my almost blackout drunk state I thought she was (y/n), and since she was there to seduce me anyways she took it. If I wasn't drunk this never would have happened, but since it did I decided to continue the relationship. That was stupid on my part. I should have told (y/n) right away, and then had Amber transferred to somebody else, but I was selfish and didn't. I thought I could have both, but I was wrong. Please tell (y/n) that I am sorry and I love her and I will accept a divorce if that is what she wants. And I understand if you or her don't believe that I'm sorry and love her since my actions say otherwise.”

“See you later, Armitage.”

“Bye Phas.”

How could she break this news to (y/n) on her birthday? She couldn't keep this from her, but she didn't want to ruin her birthday even more. Hopefully everybody was still there so (y/n) could have all her new friends around.

At the party while Phasma is heading back

You stood at the sink, looking into the mirror, “You can do this. You are okay. Nobody needs to know besides Phas.”

You walked back out to the party, hoping nobody noticed you were gone. But as soon as you were spotted, they began singing happy birthday and leading you to the cake in the kitchen. What you didn't know is that Phasma had called Mitaka to tell him what was going on and to try to get you as cheery as possible when you emerged because shit was going to hit the fan when she arrived. Mitaka told the rest what was going on and they all embraced it 100%, they wanted to create good memories of today before you were hit by the horrible ones. While Phasma didn't give a reason why shit was going to hit the fan, everybody was able to give a pretty good guess as to why.

After the cake, you all moved to the living room to open presents, and Phasma arrived during that time. When you finished opening your gifts, Phasma asked you to follow her, that she had something to tell you, and your heart sank knowing this wasn’t good news. You didn't want to believe what you heard, the man you loved was fucking his secretary instead of you, and the reason why was because he was drunk as hell one night because he was missing you and she came to seduce him and in his troubled mind he saw you, and then he became selfish enough to keep it going. And to top it off, that is why he wasn't at your party, he was fucking his side chick. Phasma said she already contacted a lawyer and they were staring the paperwork if you wanted a divorce, and while you maybe should have thought about things longer, you told her to have them continue the work. You had no reason to be Mrs. (Y/n) Hux anymore, and you didn't want to be. Phasma led you back out to the living room where everybody was prepared to support you through this hard time. Everybody offered to let you live with them, even Kylo who didn't really like Millicent. You thanked everybody for the offer, but you wanted to stay with Phasma for right now.

Everyone stayed at Phasma’s that night, all of you sleeping around the living room. And they all came along to help pack everything of yours up and move it to Phasma’s house. It was hard for you to walk into that house knowing it was probably the last time. After all your stuff was packed and Millicent was in her carrier, you removed your house key from your key chain and left it on the kitchen counter with a note to Hux: I wish you had left it as a one time fuck. I could have forgiven you if that was the case, but you had to be selfish and think only about yourself. Thank you for ruining my birthday. I loved and trusted you Armitage. - (y/n) (y/ln)

It felt weird not wearing a wedding ring, it felt weird signing all the paperwork and going to court. You hated seeing him because all you wanted to do was run into his arms and have him tell you everything was going to be okay, but you couldn't because he was the reason everything wasn't okay. You spent nights crying on Phasma’s couch with her trying to comfort you the best she could. Sometimes you would spend a night or two at Rey’s or Kylo’s or Mitaka’s when being in Phasma's house where it all went down was too much. You and Rey would buy quarts of ice cream and watch rom-coms and would yell at the guys and eat the ice cream straight out of the container; you and Kylo would complain about Hux and if you started sobbing Kylo would envelop you in his giant arms and tell you you were safe from the world and would stay like that until you calmed, and one time he bought a bunch of cheap orange glass plates that you broke to release some of your anger at Hux; Mitaka would just sit there and let you vent about everything for as long as you needed, he wouldn't say much or do much since he didn't know what to say or do, but he was there for you as a shoulder to cry on, just like the little brother you saw him as. You didn't know Rose, Finn, and Poe as well as the rest, but they would come over to Rey’s sometimes when you were there and you all would do some of the same things you all did on weekends before, and they would send you memes they thought you would like.

They all were there on the final hearing when it was set in stone that you were now divorced. They all held you as you cried, Kylo being the center to “protect you from the world” like you needed. You were sad and crushed that the divorce was finally complete, but you told yourself this is for the best. After everybody else moved away, you still clung to Kylo, letting your sobs soak his shirt.

You spoke into his chest, “Thank you Kylo, I really appreciate all you've done. You're tied with Phasma in being my best friend. It means a lot that you're willing to hold me when all I want is to be in Hux’s arms.”

He lowered his head and whispered to you, “Anything for you, kid. I think you're pretty cool, and you're one of my best friends besides Phasma, too. It is a shame that a dick like Hux had to bring us together. At least he was good for something. Well, he also got you Millicent. Now let's go celebrate, kid, we got stuff planned for you back at Phasma’s.”

While at first you didn't want to celebrate, you ended up having a great time. Mitaka got drunk and told you he saw you as the big sister he never had; Finn, Poe, Kylo, Phasma, and Rey got into a push up contest and Phasma and Rey were tied and left the guys in the dust, with Rey ultimately winning by one; Poe brought his corgi, Bee-bee, who surprisingly got along with Millie. It was the most fun you had in months, and looking at this family you now had made you realize everything was going to be okay, life was going to keep going.

[tonystarkssnipples]

December/January fic recs

In Your Company by mrhd Rating: E Word Count: 64118 Summary: They meet at a party. (MCU College AU)

Open Field in Front of Him Rating: E Word Count: 66405 Summary: Steve Rogers's football season is functionally over after a loss to Rutgers, but he finds a distraction in Tony Stark (yes, THAT Tony Stark). A college AU Stony fic.

ten years too late (just in time) by theappleppielifestyle Rating: Not Rated Word Count: 3,080 Summary: Steve never went out with Tony when they were young despite Tony's attempts at wooing him, mostly because he thought Tony was too much of a flimsy playboy who could never really commit seriously to anything that wasn't partying. Years later he runs into Single Father Tony taking care of his 3 year old. Tony refuses to buy his kid candy before dinner and is overall a pretty decent dad. Tony also thinks Steve could never be interested in him, since he was always rebuffed before, but Tony's in for a surprise.

The Billionaire and the Army Captian by Neverever Rating: T Word Count: 12652 Summary: Facing finanical ruin and needing to care for his sick daughter, Steve Rogers agrees to marry Tony Stark, who needs to get married by his 30th birthday to inherit. It's just a job for Steve until he starts to fall for the enigmatic billionaire Written for the MCU Harlequin Challenge.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side of Me by ann2who Rating: E Word Count: 16855 (WIP) Summary: In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

i spent twenty lifetimes at your door by goodmorningbeloved Rating: T Word Count: 2636 Summary: The sheets don’t smell like Steve, not anymore. Whatever has him crawling back must be something rooted into the very walls of the room itself. Or in you, his thoughts whisper.- Or: Five times after the split that Tony seeks out Steve in his sleep, and one time he doesn't.

Better Angels/Lesser Demons (series) by sabrecmc Rating: E Word Count: 34,550 Summary: Chris Evans mentioned in an interview (jokingly, unfortunately) that there was a deleted scene from Civil War with him and RDJ showering together. Welp. Headcanon accepted. // Peggy leaves Steve something in her will. Sequel to Better Angels, but can be read alone.

Would You Have Married Me? by 1000mileshigh Rating: M Word Count: 2213 Summary: The band was smooth, a rose gold studded with rubies around one half. It was gorgeous, everything Tony didn't know he wanted. It fit perfectly, so perfectly, as if it was meant to be right where it was, on Tony's left ring finger. Tony fell in love and then loudly, so forcefully it came out as a scream of agony, he fell apart.

Why We Should Date by sariane Rating: G Word Count: 2217 Summary: Steve doesn't understand modern dating customs. That's how he ends up making a PowerPoint presentation for Tony.

The Tony Stark Relationship Primer (series) by uraneia Rating: E Word Count: 14,622 Summary: Steve needs to make some quick cash to cover his mom's TB treatment and hospital stay. Bucky convinces him to try porn. Steve's not sure he'll be able to go through with it... until he meets Tony, the guy he's supposed to do his screen test with. // "Pepper, I need a million dollars to suppress a sex tape."Tony Stark has a date. But first he has to explain to his CEO that he picked up a guy at a porn shoot.

The A-Z of Tony and Steve (series) by snarkstark Rating: G Word Count: 2,360 Summary: Maybe when the blonde haired dreamer had packed up his shit and told his Ma he was leaving Brooklyn to make his fame in Hollywood, he hadn't exactly pictured himself fetching coffee and embarrassing himself, but he was on the set of the most highly anticipated film of the entire year, and personal assistant to one of the biggest names in Hollywood. Tony Stark. // Tony took a deep breath, trying to summon up all of his courage. For fuck's sake, he'd flew into a wormhole, fought countless villains and made a suit of armour that made other engineer's intentions look like a Goddamn potato radio. He could ask Steve Rogers on a date. Or Tony is extra and Steve liked baseball.

My New Year’s Resolutions Is You by izazov Rating: G Word Count: 1,114 Summary: Steve, Tony, and New Year's Eve in Venice.

Tony’s Big Gay Freak-Out by imafriendlydalek Rating: T Word Count: 1004 Summary: Tony's having a Moment. It's a good thing Rhodey is there to talk some sense into him.

The Stark Scenic Retreat by McG Rating: G Word: Count: 22403 Summary: Steve Rogers is the newest member of the Visitor Reception Team at the Stark Scenic Retreat (or SSR for short): a ten square mile woodland estate built by Howard Stark, in upstate New York: a playground for invention. The site is now in the care of the Society for the preservation of Historic Industrial and Engineering Landmarks and Domains (S.H.I.E.L.D.) As Steve gets to grips with life after the army, being reunited with his friend Bucky, and working at a busy tourist attraction, the SSR faces its own challenges. Justin Hammer wants to convert it to a spa hotel and resort, and Tony Stark, main benefactor and SSR shareholder, is caught up in his own issues and seems unwilling to help save Steve's new home and family. Or a story of team bonding, team building, pride and prejudice, and the daily trials of working in the customer-facing environment of tourism.

Double-Blind (Get Me Back In This World) by navaan Rating: E Word Count: 31924 Summary: Shortly after being defrosted, Steve meets a handsome stranger at a party and has the certain epiphany that sex is a good way to reconnect with the world that is now so strange to him. Because one thing that hasn’t changed is that sex is simple. That the man seems to hate the very thought of Captain America makes it even easier for some reason. Or the one in which Steve sleeps with someone called Henry Hellrung. Although - not really.

just the way you look tonight by goodmorningbeloved Rating: E Word Count: 3164 Summary: Tony's sweater shrinks. Steve's okay with it.

Good For You by orbingarrow Rating: T Word Count: 42131 Summary: Steve doesn't understand why Tony dates people who abuse him. Tony doesn't understand why Steve cares. The rest is bad choices, good choices, rehab, milkshakes, paintball, YouTube videos, couples therapy and learning to put the past in the past. Or: How Tony finds his happy ending.

Place Your Bets by RurouniHime Rating: M Word Count: 35999 Summary: Steve Rogers may or may not have just picked up a prostitute. This may or may not be Tony Stark’s fault.

Double or Nothing by RurouniHime Rating: E Word Count: 5757 Summary: One of these days, they're actually going to get that sleepover. Steve's patient, Tony's determined, and Bucky is... wait, what's the opposite of helping? (otherwise known as the sex-filled sequel to Place Your Bets)

Driven to Distraction by Morningandnight13 Rating: M Word Count: 3046 Summary: Steph Rogers is an exhausted college student just trying to blow off some steam when she meets the mysterious (and drop-dead gorgeous) Toni. One-night stands are great and all, but it's possible they didn't completely think this one through. (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark genderbent AU. dl;dr)

Choosing by indigorose50 Rating: T Word Count: 1761 Summary: The "first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed on your body" Soulmate AU. Except Steve isn't Tony's soulmate. But who cares. This one was a gift for me and obsessed.

One of Us Cannot Be Wrong by shetlandowl Rating: E Words: 4225 Summary: Steve Rogers is a hard-working book editor without equal, who has cultivated a career and lifestyle precisely as he likes it. When the US Immigration office threatens to take all of it away from him just because he happens to have been born on the wrong side of an imaginary line, his only hope is to find an American spouse within two weeks.

Observations by smol_bird Rating: G Word Count: 4578 Summary: There is a running gag in the Academy, started, as many of them are, by Clint, that in one of the certainly-existing parallel universes Natasha is a spy ———— Or: In which Tony renames his computer files, Steve draws, Clint questions, and Natasha is left the observer role, not that she minds at all.

[afusionoffandoms]

While I was hospitalized the last friend group I had decided to abandon me and leave me on read. I spent my 30th and 31st birthday alone. The only people I know in this city are my three relatives and we only see each other when it's necessary.

It's been 3 years since I've been to the movies despite the fact that it's only a 15 minute walk from my apartment. 2 years since I did something social of any kind. Partly because I have no one to do it with, partially because I'm now physically disabled.

Yesterday I decided to take a chance and ask a person I've never met but talk to online if they wanted to go see The Batman with me. I bought the tickets. We splurged to get the good recliner seats, even when I can't really afford it. I told myself it'd be worth it.

Today they tested positive. They're doing fine since they're vaccinated, but they have to self-isolate.

I just wasted $50 on two non-refundable movie tickets, and my anxiety is so bad there's no point in even trying to go alone. I'd be too jittery to even enjoy the movie. I hate being alone in public.

This is what I get for trying to have something nice.

I'm so fucking tired of everything going to shit. Literally everything I do goes to shit. I have no one. I have nothing. I waste away staring at my living room wall and every attempt at changing this results in nothing. I'm so sick of bad luck, accidents and injuries.

[drlaurynlax]

What 26 Years of Processed Foods Does to Your Body

Years Living With Processed Foods

How long have you been living with processed foods?

“Please help me go, please help me go” —a breath prayer I often said aloud for years while sitting in the Loo (i.e. on the toilet)—in the pit of discomfort!

I often just WANTED (and needed) to “go,” but, many times, I not able to “go” for days. 

Constipation is Real

Stuck—often times how I felt in my own skin. Stuck in my gut. Constipated. And like my body was at war, in my own skin. 

At age 26, even though I ate “healthy” (on paper), something was not right. 

Greens? Check.

Sweet potatoes? Check. 

Salmon? Check.

Almonds? Check.

Eggs? Check. 

Broccoli? Check. 

Coconut Butter and Coconut Oil? Check.

I was doing ALL the “right things,” so why did it have to hurt so much?

Answer: Healthy “being” goes far beyond diet alone. 

At least once you’ve been enlightened…

Exhibit A: Day 1 Nutrition School (You & I Are NOT Alone)

“Stand up and introduce yourself. What got you interested in studying nutrition?” the teacher said. 

One by one, my class of about 40 other aspiring nutrition therapy practitioners had to stand up and give their “elevator speech” as to why we were all sitting upright in the classroom, pen and paper in hand, eager, anxious and beaming with BIG vision, to learn how to save the world one  food myth at a time. 

As we went around the room sharing our stories, one by one, we also began to realize that…we were not alone. 

Many of my fellow classmates were survivors of the processed-food, antibiotic, vaccine, sedentary lifestyle and chronic disease generation, and somehow, had all lived to tell about it.

“My son was diagnosed with Autism, and the doctors told me there was nothing we could do about it except lots of therapies and behavior plans. So I did some research myself, and began to find stories about the brain-gut connection—how food can influence how we think and help kids with Autism. As a family, we started the GAPS diet, and my son, who was non-verbal, said his first words,” Charlotte said. 

“I was a vegetarian and vegan for over 15 years, and on the cusp of my 30th birthday, I got sick—really sick,” Lynan said. “My skin was pale, my hair started falling out, my nails were brittle, I was tired all the time, lost my period, and began experiencing bloating around meals all the time. Something wasn’t right. I thought it was something to do with my hormones, or maybe mono, or anemia, so I went to a doctor a friend recommended and he said nothing was wrong with me.

I just needed to eat meat again, telling me, “You know you are doing the same thing to your body that inhumane chicken and beef farms do to their animals—feeding them lots of grains and processed foods, restricting them from all the nutrients their bodies need to thrive. Your body needs balance,” …I was so desperate for anything to feel better, so I gave it a try, and within a matter of months, all my health problems went away. I got my period and energy back, the bloating subsided and I felt better than I had in those 15 years,” Lynan said.  

“I got terminal brain cancer. The doctors gave me 2, maybe 3 months, to live, and told me it had spread through every bone in my body and that there was nothing I could do,” Bob said, adding, “But then I looked on the nutrition label of the tube-feeding formula the healthcare company sent me, only to see the worlds ‘Nestle’ and ‘high fructose corn syrup’ on the ‘medicine’ meant to help me get the extra nutrients I needed, and I thought, ‘There’s got to be another way.’ So I decided to start juicing my own food and smoothies for my feeding tube, and just ate real food. Months later, I was completely cancer free and years later, I have a son they never told me I could have and I lived to tell about it. I want to help people,” Bob said. 

Mic drop. 

Nope. None of us were alone. 

What 26 Years of Processed Foods Does to Your Body

We all have a story. Often times, multiple stories. That shape us for the better or the worse. Your stories are written via your life experiences, and chances are, when it comes to your health, you’ve had multiple experiences that have set the stage for where your body (and health markers) are today. 

Even if you “eat healthy” and “do all the right things” today, your past experiences paved way for the way you feel (or don’t feel) now.

I’m a Survivor

Hi, I am Lauryn and I am a survivor of the processed food, “take a Tylenol or Tums” (for everything), antibiotic, “drink juice as your water,” frozen broccoli (with cheese sauce), Lean-Cuisines-and-Quest-Bars are convenient (and healthy) generation.

 For the first 26 years of my life, my body didn’t see a real food—really. 

Sure, I ate Fiber One cereal, not Cookie Crisp, for breakfast.  Packed 99% lean turkey on whole wheat bread with pretzels (not chips) for lunch (with the special occasion Pizza Lunchable).  Noshed on apple slices (with Peter Pan peanut butter), or string cheese and whole grain Wheat Thins between meals, and I ate a low-fat dinner, including a protein, starch and veggie with a glass of milk most nights for dinner…but even though I was eating “healthy,” (according to Standard American Diet criteria), my body did not see a real food. 

Fast forward to my teens and college years, when I began to make my own food choices for myself, I looked to magazines, social media, and Google for advice on what to eat (and not eat), following hundreds of food rule under the sun. If it was deemed “healthy,” or “clean” by Shape or Cosmo, it was “a-ok “with me including: protein bars and protein powders, frozen dinners, raw veggies, tons of nuts and almond butter, egg white omelets, and no carbs, no meats or no fats (depending on the popular trend at the time).

Eating disorder treatment is a whole other can of worms complicating the story. Over the accumulated three years of my life spent in inpatient treatment centers and hospitals, along with the 15 years of meal plans with prescriptions to eat McDonald’s Egg McMuffins and Dairy Queen Blizzard’s, I equally did not see (or eat) a real food—at least not much of it. 

The universal theme? My body—namely my gut—didn’t know how to deal with the influx of foods that were difficult to digest.  The result? A host of inflammation and imbalances. 

Even though, at age 26 I found “real food,” was well beyond my eating disorder and discovered the art of “stressing less,” I had ALOT of “damage” to heal and make up for from the previous 26 years of my life. 

In short: How you feel today (or how you will feel tomorrow, or 10-50 years from now) is a result of the choices you made years ago.

Survey Says

I spent the entire 26th year of life, studying nutrition and forming the foundations of my current functional medicine, nutrition and therapy business. 

The next year, I found myself in two rigorous functional medicine trainings and sinking my teeth (and brain) into anything that explained more about WHY I felt the way I felt (i.e. constipated and bloated ALL the time), trying to understand WHY it seemed like no doctors could help me just feel good in my own skin.  Instead of believing “bloating and constipation are just a part of life,” I dedicated my studies and used my body as my own experiment to find out if healing was truly possible. 

The following images from a few of my lab tests are just a glimpse of what 26 years of processed foods, lifestyle and gut stress does to your body. 

 Osteoporosis: 

Cause: Malnutrition, lack of essential fatty acids, inability to absorb nutrients (“leaky gut”) and bacterial overgrowth

 SIBO (Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth)

Cause: High grain consumption, low stomach acid, stress, overtraining, artificial sweeteners, low fat diets, FODMAP foods, antibiotics, processed and packaged foods

 High Cortisol (i.e. stress hormone)

Cause: “Leaky gut,” overtraining (or sedentary lifestyle), lack of quality sleep, lack of water, burning a candle at both ends (trying to do it all), gut-inflammatory foods and food intolerances, high caffeine or sugar/artificial sweetener consumption, NOT going with your gut (and being true to yourself), LED light/screen exposure

The Bottom Line

Knowledge is power, and healing IS possible—(even with 26 years+ of processed foods and other health stressors under your belt).

The secret? 

It goes far beyond “clean eating”….

How to Heal Your Gut

It’s easier than you think.  It involves 3 simple steps: 

Step 1: Identify the Underlying Root Cause(s) of your Gut Issues

(note: even if you don’t have bloating or IBS or constipation, skin issues, allergies, thyroid/hormone imbalances and “slow metabolism” issues ALSO are often rooted in your gut)  often made out to be more complicated than it is. Common “root causes” of gut issues include:

Environmental toxic burden

SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth)

Parasites, fungal or bacterial infection

Dysbiosis (imbalanced gut bacteria)

Food intolerances 

Intestinal permeability

Chronic infections (Lyme, Ebstein Barr)

Bonus:

To figure out your root causes, the fastest route to seeing a clearer picture of everything going on is testing (not guessing) your health woes. Work with a functional medicine practitioner who can help you decide what (if any) testing may be helpful including: 

Stool testing

Comprehensive blood chemistry testing (not just a CBC)

SIBO breath testing

Organic acids testing

DUTCH hormone/cortisol testing

IgG, IgA, IgE food intolerance/allergy testing

Heavy metals/essential nutrients testing

Step 2: Get Back to the Basics

You cannot supplement or eat your way out of a stressful lifestyle. The “unsexy” simple health basics are game-changers for calming stress AND gut healing including:

Eating a nutrient-dense, whole-foods ancestral diet (proteins, carbs and fats included)

Drinking half your bodyweight in ounces of water daily

Taking a quality probiotic, prebiotics and eating fermented and prebiotic foods daily

Sleeping 7-9 hours per night

Resetting your circadian rhythm (limiting screen exposure/artificial light at night; eating at normal times; getting fresh air)

Daily movement/exercise (but not TOO much)

Step 3: Heal (Don’t Manage) Your Symptoms

Healing your gut is not just about taking probiotics and drinking kombucha. Once you identify your ROOT causes of your gut imbalances, you must take action steps to HEAL your gut (not just manage gut health or suppress symptoms).

This step will be unique to you and is best first accomplished with the guidance of a skilled practitioner. Request a complimentary 10-minute consult with Dr. Lauryn’s clinic today to start your own healing journey. 

  The post What 26 Years of Processed Foods Does to Your Body appeared first on Meet Dr. Lauryn.

Source/Repost=> https://drlauryn.com/gut-health/what-26-years-of-processed-foods-does-to-your-body/ ** Dr. Lauryn Lax __Nutrition. Therapy. Functional Medicine ** https://drlauryn.com/

[speakupchel]

life update #2

i'm back in nyc ~ i had no idea how much this would hurt, but i'm on a path towards healing; one day at a time.

here's the run down:

brian proposed to me very early on. we'd talked about it, but i wasn't expecting it when it came. it was a sunday morning in bed. it was nothing like the proposal i told him i always wanted, but i love him and i saw a future with him so i said yes.

a few weeks later, i caught him on tinder. i saw that while i was asleep he'd purchased a subscription and was texting a girl... right next to me while i was asleep. i woke him up that next morning and confronted him. we talked for hours and decided to try to work through it. to build trust again. he seemed genuine. i don't know.

his 30th birthday was on 12/17, i asked over and over what he wanted or what he wanted to do. he gave me a couple really expensive gift ideas (like a $350 broadcasting mic???) but he said he didn't want to make a big to-do, because he just doesn't like his birthday. i asked if he just wanted to hang with everyone on discord and he said no, he didn't want the attention. so, i made dinner reservations at one of our favorite places - and to show my support of his passions, i tracked down a shooting instructor that he said he really connected with and set up a private lesson with him for his birthday weekend.

around 5pm on his birthday, he decided to just take a nap and skip our dinner reservations? when he finally woke up, he immediately went to the liquor store, bought a bottle of whiskey and got on discord. for someone who "doesn't want attention on his birthday" he sureeee wanted everyone to do birthday shots with him. he got so hammered on discord that he couldn't walk. i had to carry him to bed and take off his shoes, try to get him on his side and make sure he had water and a trash can in case he got sick. when i was leaving the room to go turn the computer off, he said "do me a favor. go in there and tell all of them how much i love them and how great they made my birthday before you leave the call" it hurt so much that his drunken last words were to tell a group of people from online that he loved them and that they made his birthday great.

after i got him to bed, i went to sleep on the couch (thank god) and the next morning i woke up to him putting sheets in the wash. the man had literally gotten piss his pants drunk and wet the bed. what a way to ring in your 30s.

christmas came the next weekend, i gave brian a few small gifts and he just... didn't get me anything? he didn't even write a card? just... nothing. he knows how i grew up. he knew it was my first real christmas. but he just didn't do a thing. later that night, he left and went to his cousin's house - he promised it was only for a couple hours and then we'd spend the rest of the night together. after he got there, he just went MIA and stopped responding to my texts. he kept saying "i'm saying goodbyes now" and an hour would go by and then "i'm walking out the door now" and then another hour would go by. i spent almost all of christmas alone. i left myself a video, telling myself that this was the end of the relationship and that i hope next christmas i've found happiness.

a few days after christmas, brian told me that he wasn't happy and he feels like he can't be himself around me. he put a ring on my finger, i made a promise, i refused to just give up but he was firm on his decision that it was us that was the problem. his dad is going through a fourth round of chemo, he just moved 1,000 miles from his hometown for the first time in his life and wasn't with family or friends for his birthday or the holidays, his truck's check engine light is on and his finances and debt are overwhelming him. he can barely afford rent and his credit score is around 450, his job is threatening to fire anyone who won't get vaccinated. but... it was our relationship making him unhappy. so i needed to leave. end of.

i was terrified to fly. i was terrified to come back to nyc. i was terrified to be alone in my apartment. i was panicking. over and over and over. brian bought me a direct flight home for the monday right after new years and got me to the airport. in the days between when we broke up and when my flight left, we mourned the loss together. we cried, we laughed, we talked, we bickered, we held each other through panic attacks and reassured each other that we would always be there for each other.

in the last days, he was saying that i was his best friend and he couldn't imagine a world without me in his life. he was talking about eating dinner together on discord every night, and being on the phone when i went to sleep and when i woke up. he kept saying this until the moment i got to the gate and boarded the plane. he told me to call him as soon as my plane landed.

but when i got on the plane, i immediately got a notification that i was banned from the discord server. i asked him what was up with that and he said he didn't ask for that to happen but he was heading into a work meeting so he would ask the server owner after the meeting. my plane was delayed and i start getting messages from other people in the server saying that brian was just... "celebrating having his freedom back"

when i got off the plane, i called brian. he said that he was finishing up a meeting and would call me in a minute. he didn't call. i called again and we spoke for a moment before he had to go for "another work call" but -- yet again -- people are just messaging me saying that he's talking to the guys, showing off his guns, saying he's going to buy the ak-47 back that he sold when i was there, and hit the liquor store soon.

i can't explain to you the hurt that i felt the moment i realized that everything he said - being my best friend. missing me. wanting to always be in each other's lives. - it was all an act.

when i got home, i called the girl he was dating before me (he cheated on her when he started talking to me soooo probably should have seen that red flag but anyways) -- the more we talked about our respective relationships with brian, it became clear that he had just repeated history over again. in the exact. same. way. down to pet names he called us and tiny little things he did.

i still love him. i still worry about him. i still want to know that he is ok down there all alone. i still want to know what was the truth and what was lies. there's just so much i don't and will never know.

i'm trying to get used to that. the unknown.

[terriblelifechoices]

32 and 97 please? and could it be Percival credence and set in the possible verse :)

Okay, so you all seem to be in a time travel mood.  Was there a meme I missed? 

From the fanfic trope MASH-UP meme, which remains heaps of fucking fun.  Come say hi.  It’s probably going to end in fic, because having written fic for one person, it doesn’t feel fair not to write fic for everyone else.

32. Pregnancy Fic & 97. Time Travel, set in the Possible ‘verse.  Okay.  Here we go.

Grave Manor, Late January 1932

“Credence,” Dorothy began.

“I’m fine,” Credence said firmly.

Dorothy fixed him with the please stop being a dumbass look she usually reserved for her husband.  “That’s the second time you’ve been sick today,” she pointed out.  “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I never said that you were,” Credence retorted, with more heat than he meant to.  He felt too wretched to be mindful of Dorothy’s feelings, even though she was only trying to help.  “Stop fussing!”

Dorothy pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him.  “If you’d like me to leave –”

“Shit,” said Credence.  “No.  Please.  I don’t – I’m sorry, Dorothy, I really am.”  He was going to feel like an absolute heel for snapping at her just as soon as he could keep anything down.

“Well,” said Dorothy, ever the peacemaker, “I suppose you’ve got a pretty good excuse for beastly behavior,” she allowed.  “Magic knows I wasn’t at my best with Peter.”

Credence winced, both at the memory and the less-than-oblique reference to his increasingly obvious secret.  Dorothy had a talent for understatement.

“I want Percival to be the first one to know,” he confessed.  “That’s why I haven’t said anything yet.”  Technically – and Credence had every intention of clinging to that technicality, despite what Percival thought about people who used them – he still hadn’t.  He’d alluded to it, yes, but he hadn’t outright said anything.

Dorothy stared at him, incredulous.  “How?” she demanded.

“Well, when a wizard and another wizard love each other very much –”

“I will pour this ginger tea on your head, just you see if I won’t!” Dorothy threatened.

“You’d need a stool for that,” Credence said, momentarily diverted by the logistics.  He knew full well that Dorothy would.  She’d probably tell him that he had it coming while she did it.  It was the how he was less sure about.

“I have magic, you idiot, I’ll wingardium leviosa it and dump it all over you.  What do you mean, Percival doesn’t know?”

“Er,” said Credence.  “Well, at first I wasn’t sure, and then …” He made a vague hand gesture, trying to convey without words that the fucking Smith-Smythe case had come up and Percival had spent what felt like all of thirty minutes at home in the last week.  He hadn’t been around for long enough to notice that Credence had been throwing up what felt like every meal he’d eaten in the last month and then some.  Credence didn’t blame him for that, exactly, but a bit of husbandly hovering might have been nice.  Percival was the only one who hovered the exact right amount.

“Oh,” said Dorothy.  “Right.”

Alex had spent slightly more time at home in the past week than Percival had, but Alex wasn’t trying to ride herd on Magical Law Enforcement from three different countries.  No one cared if Alex went home for a shave and a change of clothes, but everyone acted like the entire investigation would fall apart if Percival did.

Credence was going to have words with a few people about that, just as soon as he figured out who he needed to have them with.

Dorothy sighed.  “I’ll bring you some Bessie’s Baby Balm,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Credence.  He fidgeted.  “You’re not going to tell Alex, are you?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said.  “Percival should know first.  How can I tell Alex things I don’t know?”

Dorothy was a much better friend than he deserved.  Credence was going to buy her an entire shop’s worth of fancy yarn as soon as he could go out in public without wanting to immediately throw up from all the strange smells.

You’re being ridiculous, he told himself.  He’d been pregnant before.  There was no reason a little vomiting should knock him off his feet quite so badly.

Of course, it hadn’t really been this bad with Galahad or Olwen.  And at least with Galahad, it really had been morning sickness.  He’d barely been sick at all with Olwen, which was probably why he was being such a ninny about it now.  Percival spoiled him so much that he’d forgotten what a bit of hardship felt like.

You can’t rest just yet, he thought.  He and Tina were so close to having Rappaport’s Law repealed.

Credence made a face and forced himself out of the worn green chair in his office.  It was, aside from the bed he shared with Percival, probably Credence’s favorite piece of furniture in Graves Manor, not to mention the most comfortable.  It was one of the few things about the office he hadn’t changed when he’d taken ownership of it.

Credence’s office had been Vivian Graves’ study, once.  A handful of her things remained: the book she’d written on the importance of Merlinian legends in wizarding culture, which was written in what Percival referred to as a dialect of ‘high academia’ and still somehow managed to be witty; the hand scribed and illustrated book of stories she’d made for Percival on his thirteenth birthday, to match the one she’d given Seraphina; the crystal inkwell she’d used to write her letters, which still held faint traces of blue-purple ink.

It was his office now.  Credence had tried not to change things too much when he was still new to the Manor, but the changes crept inevitably in over time.  Vivian’s dry academic research tomes had been the first to go, packed away in the attic in neatly labeled boxes.  Credence still wasn’t sure how anyone made stories as wondrous as the ones Percival told him and the children sound so boring, but that was academia for you.  He suspected that whoever held the office after him would probably find his own much-annotated copies of Copperfield’s Legal References just as boring.

That thought made him smile.  Even now, Credence still delighted in being part of Percival’s family traditions.  Knowing that those traditions would carry on into the next generation satisfied the part of him that had grown up scared and alone, desperate to belong to someone or something and knowing with awful, bone-deep certainty that he never would.

Credence paused in front of the bookshelf where Vivian’s inkwell rested.

I wish I could have met you, he thought, reaching out to toy with the crystal stopper.

Drawing the stopper out was a mistake.  The decades old ink had been lightly perfumed, once, but the scent had soured over time.  Credence gagged, resisting the urge to throw up yet again, and accidentally knocked the inkwell off the shelf.

It shattered on the floor of his office, releasing a plume of blue-violet smoke that made his eyes burn.

Everything went black after that.

Graves Manor, Late March 1884

“Ow,” Credence moaned, curling reflexively into the fetal position.  His head ached, a throbbing counterpoint to the rest of his body.  He felt like he’d been Stunned.

“Easy, now,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said.  “You’ve a nasty lump on the back of your head.”  Her voice was clear and lilting, rising and falling in a familiar cadence.

She sounded like Percival did, when Percival slipped into his mother’s accent.

Also, how had she gotten into his office?

Credence jerked upright and regretted it a moment later, barely managing to transfigure his handkerchief into a bowl to be sick in before heaving up what little remained in his stomach.

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that,” the unfamiliar witch said, looking faintly green.  “I’m going to be fair annoyed with you if you make me sick up my lunch, boyo.”  She rubbed at the faint swell of her stomach with one hand.  Credence recognized the gesture.  He’d made that gesture, soothing his unborn child.

Her other hand, Credence noticed, was wrapped tight around the hilt of her wand, and she was aiming it at him.

Credence set his bowl down and resisted the urge to rub protectively over his own unborn child.  It was best not to let people know where you were vulnerable, or so Percival always said.  He kept his hands where she could see them, pressed flat against the floor of his office.

Credence frowned.  It was his office, but it wasn’t.  It looked a bit like it had when he’d first taken ownership of it, but less neglected.

“How did you get into my office?” he asked.

“Your office!” the witch repeated, indignant.  “I beg your pardon.  This is my office, and that’s a question I should be asking you!  How the hell did you get in here?  The wards are set to lock out anyone who isn’t a Graves, and I’ve certainly not made an exception for you.”

Credence stared at her.  The witch holding him at wandpoint was handsome rather than pretty, with thick dark hair swept into an elaborate bun.  Percival and Dindrane both had her eyes, he realized somewhat hysterically.

“I think I’m dreaming,” he said.

Vivian Graves cocked an eyebrow at him.  The gesture reminded him sharply of Percival.  “Are you now?” she inquired.

“I – yes.  I must be,” Credence said.  “I’d really like to wake up now,” he added.

The dream version of his mother-in-law stared at him, nonplussed.  “I have to say, this is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a would-be burglar.  Not that we get many of those, since, as I said, the wards are set to keep out anyone but a Graves.  I, for one, would really like to know how you got around them.  My husband will likely have a few questions on that score as well.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  No, no, no.  The dream version of his mother-in-law was bad enough.  Credence was absolutely not going to put up with the dream version of his father-in-law as well.  He wasn’t sure he could make it through a conversation with Geraint without shouting at him.

“I’m not a burglar,” Credence said.  “And –” His gaze fell on Vivian’s desk calendar.  “What day is it?” he asked.

“March 30th, 1884,” Vivian said.

“Right,” said Credence.  He was glad he was already sitting down, or else his legs would have gone out from under him.  He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them, trying and mostly failing not to hyperventilate.

This was not happening.  This was just a very strange dream.

A very strange, very realistic dream.

“Easy,” Vivian murmured soothingly.  “Easy now, there’s a good lad.”  She knelt down next to him and rubbed between his shoulders, a silent offer of comfort and support.

“I can’t,” he gasped.  “This can’t be happening.”

“How about you concentrate on breathing, and then we’ll figure out what’s going on?” she suggested.  “Breathe with me.  In and out, nice and slow, there you go.”

Vivian was watching him when Credence lifted his head up again.  Her gaze didn’t have Percival’s wealth of investigative experience behind it, but her eyes were sharp and intelligent.  Credence had the sense that Vivian Graves could see right through the heart of him, if she wanted to.

“You’re not a burglar, are you?”

Credence shook his head.

Vivian considered that, tapping a thoughtful finger against her mouth.  “I’ve not met all of Geraint’s cousins yet, but you don’t have their look.”  Her gaze went suddenly distant – checking the wards, Credence realized.  Vivian was the mistress of Graves Manor; Geraint must have keyed the wards to her will the way Percival had keyed them to his.

The way Percival would key the wards to Credence’s will, almost forty years from now.

Credence reached for the wards, wondering if they would still recognize him if he hadn’t been made the master of Graves Manor yet.

The wards felt different.  They didn’t have the steel clawed ferocity of Percival’s magic, that willingness to adapt to anything in order to preserve the lives entrusted to their care.  They felt like solid stone instead, with no hint of awareness that stone could be broken.

They felt wrong.

“Oh,” he said, flinching back.

“Who are you?” Vivian demanded.  “And why do the wards recognize you?”

Credence stared at her.  Surely she would know the answer to that better than he would.  She was raised to magic.  Could the wards recognize him as master of Graves Manor if he hadn’t been keyed to them yet?

No, he realized a second later.  They recognized the Graves bloodline, and he was carrying a child with Graves blood.

Vivian’s grandchild.

“I’m your son-in-law,” he blurted, too off-kilter to come up with a proper lie.  He’d never been very good at lying anyway.  “The wards recognize me because –” Credence couldn’t make himself say it.  He still wanted Percival to be the first to know, and Percival didn’t even exist yet.  “Oh my God,” he said, giving in to another fit of hysterics.

“My what?”  Vivian dropped one hand to her stomach, pressing it against the swell of the child within.  Dindrane, Credence realized.  She was born in 1884.

That realization did nothing for his sense of hysteria.  Credence took a deep breath, trying to calm down.  All that hysteria couldn’t be good for the baby.

He burst into terrified tears instead, because he was in fucking 1884 and the wards of Graves Manor felt wrong and Percival hadn’t even been born yet.

The sharp crack of Vivian’s palm against his cheek threw him back into startled clarity.  For a second, Credence was reminded of Ma.  Ma hadn’t liked tears, and the pain reminded him to be silent.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking like she really meant it.  “But I couldn’t think of anything else that would calm you down.”

Vivian also looked a little bit like she wanted to murder him.

“What do you mean, you’re my son-in-law?” she demanded.  “You’re a bit old for my girl, seeing as she hasn’t been born yet, and Geraint doesn’t have any other children.”  She paused, then added,  “Geraint had better not have any other children.”

“He doesn’t,” Credence said. “And I’m not –”

“Lad, this will go much better if you’d actually finish a sentence every once in awhile.”

“I’m Percival’s,” Credence said.  “Not Dindrane’s.”

Vivian stared at him.  For the first time, she actually looked a little afraid.

“I haven’t told anyone what names I picked,” she said.  “Not even Geraint.  It’s bad luck.”

“I know those names because I know your children,” Credence said.  “I married your son.”

“I don’t have a son.”

“Not yet,” Credence said, desperately hoping that telling her so hadn’t changed that.

“Look, whoever you are –”

“Credence.”

“Credence.  Assuming I believe this fairy story you’re trying to sell me – and I’m not saying that I do, because it sounds absolutely mad – why on earth would you decide to go back in time?”

“I didn’t,” Credence said.  “I was holding your inkwell and I dropped it and it broke and then I woke up here.”

Vivian’s gaze went to her desk.  “My inkwell?  My inkwell isn’t magic.  It’s just a bloody bottle.”

Credence looked at the inkwell on her desk, which was indeed a little glass bottle of India ink.  The delicate crystal one Credence knew so well was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s not the right inkwell,” he said.

“Are you having me on?” she asked.

“No.”

“Because this sounds completely cracked.  Some stranger turns up in my office claiming to be married to the son I haven’t borne yet –”

“I am!” Credence said.  “I can prove it.”

Vivian frowned at him.  “You can prove it,” she repeated.

Credence held out his hand.  “The test for paternity is a simple one,” he said.  It only took three drops of blood.  “That’s why the wards recognize me.”

“You’re –  Now I know you’re having me on.  Those spells are fiendishly difficult to cast.  You or this imaginary son of mine would have to be powerful to cast the androgenesis spells.”

“The Graves bloodline has always been powerful,” Credence pointed out.

“You’re serious.  You’re actually serious.”

“Would you just cast the damn spell already?” Credence snapped.

“Don’t you take that tone with me.  You’re the one who broke into my office.”

Oh, God, it was like dealing with Dindrane in one of her academic spirals.

“Please?” Credence asked.

“I don’t know why I’m humoring you,” she informed him.  “You’re clearly mad.”  But she transfigured a sharp silver pin out of one of her pen nibs and used it to prick his finger and then her own.  “Conferatur sanguis.  Descenderiam surgos.”

Credence blinked at her in surprise.  He’d only ever used the spell to identify bloodlines.  He’d never tried comparing them.  That was an Auror’s trick.

Of course, Vivian was an Auror’s spouse.  Maybe it was time he started treating her like one.

“This is impossible,” Vivian declared, looking at the geneaology written in gold letters in the air between them.  “Your child is descended from my Geraint – from my son.”

“I told you,” Credence said.  “I’m your son-in-law.”  He licked his lips and decided to go all in.  The Aurors Spouses Network understood duty just as well as their Aurors did, and it was part of their unspoken code to help on another wherever they could.  “I need your help,” he told his mother-in-law.  “I need to go home.”

“Right,” his mother-in-law said briskly, all of her earlier confusion vanishing into Percival’s steely-eyed determination and Dindrane’s academic drive.  “We’re going to figure this out.”

[withoutshade]

My Fire Eating Story

Main editing by Rion Fish, 2018, May 30th

Special thanks to Zofia Kaminski, Anna Tukachinskaya, Aetheria De Fleury, and Bethany Byrnes, for their contributions.

My name is April Jennifer Choi, and I used to be a Fire Eater. Over the years, I put in thousands of hours to become one of the most well-known, knowledgeable, and skilled fire-eaters in the world. Over the course of three years, I learned and categorized hundreds of fire-eating tricks and variations. I demonstrated, edited, and produced six volumes of The Fire Eating Tricktionary. I became one of the Admins of the largest fire eating Group on Facebook. I invented new fire eating torches and styles. I performed and taught Fire Eating for some of the top fire arts events in the US.

About a year and a half ago, I started to get sick. At first, I assumed this was due to a new medication, but a pattern emerged-- I was getting sick for days after fire-eating practice. On my birthday last year, April 13th, nausea, headache, vomiting, diarrhea, profuse sweating, abdominal cramps, and tachycardia set in. This was so severe that my fiancée, Bethany, tried to call an ambulance. I begged her no, before losing consciousness on the bathroom floor. This was the first time I had fuel poisoning, but not the last. Over the course of the coming year, I was already booked to teach and perform fire eating all around the US; I went ahead with my schedule. After every major workshop, I would get sick. I cut back on my practice, and I noticed things got better. Due to other health issues, I have blood work on a bi-monthly basis. After one blood test, my doctor asked if there was anything I was doing that could be throwing the test off. I mentioned fire eating, which my doctor had seen me do in the local 4th of July celebration. My doctor recommended that I stop completely, and requested a follow-up test in two weeks. Two weeks crept by, in which I was unable to demonstrate any fire eating with fuel, despite teaching five fire-eating classes at PlayThink Movement Festival during that time period. I returned home, had my blood drawn, and the results were back within normal range. I spent the autumn months teaching and performing with a limited trick set, nothing advanced,  and with few negative occurrences. During this time, I decided to discontinue being a full-time performer and resume my engineering career. When the invitations for the 2018 festival season started to come in at the end of the year, I was repeatedly requested to teach and perform fire eating. I said yes, to way too many events, including both fire-eating workshops and a few fire eating world record attempts. I regret those choices. The season kicked off, and I noticed that I was growing more sensitive. Filming for the “Best of Fire Eating” video, I limited my number of takes but felt ill for days after. I tried to rationalize and write it off; this could not be happening to me. During Flame Festival, one year exactly since my birthday celebration that I collapsed at, I noticed my symptoms were still more sensitive—to being around both UPLO and white gas. I started to ask questions and research what else could cause my decline. I changed my diet because I noticed that vegans and people with strict diets, seemed to suffer a bit more after fire eating or fire-breathing. I also found people who slept less, who weighed less, as well as others who didn’t use substances that potentially masked their symptoms, seemed to suffer more. I set out to better my lifestyle, to reduce the amount I would get sick, looking toward vitamin supplementation and cleaner fuels to improve my outlook. Things did improve, until a long workshop in Iowa attempting a fire-eating world record. I felt terrible immediately and had to take the following day on bed rest. Things went downhill from here faster and faster. I filmed my submission for a fire-breathing collaboration video. Even using the standard, UPLO, which is considerably safer than white gas, and only a few breaths, I was sick once again. I was so sick that I decided then that I would quit fire-breathing; while it is an art that I enjoy, I love Fire Eating. Since I was still to teach at Kinetic Fire, the biggest fire festival in the Midwest, I took a few weeks off and hoped for the best. At Kinetic Fire, I taught only three classes, one of which I supported with minimal demonstrations. I restricted the second class to a discussion. The third class involved vapor tricks, during which I did a few demos and some play with the other instructors. I did less than ten vapor tricks total. Within hours, things were bad. I decided not to participate in the fire circle and go to bed early. I couldn’t sleep due to painful cramping. Nausea, headache, sweating, and racing pulse joined in; I staggered to find a bathroom as fast as I could. I spent an hour that felt like forever with severe diarrhea, vomiting into a trash can, and feeling the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. The pain was intense, and nausea and irregular heart rate caused things to shimmer away in tunnel vision. When I was able to speak, I began yelling for help. An event organizer heard me and radioed for a medic. The medic arrived, and I explained the situation as best I could. He said he could request an ambulance-- and I seriously considered it-- but I knew the situation and there wasn’t much to be done. After much comforting and examining, the medic retrieved my fiancée. I faced the fact that just a handful of vapor tricks caused my situation, and I had to completely stop both fire-breathing or fire eating. I’ve always been chemically sensitive. A single coffee will keep me awake for many hours. A dose of Dramamine knocks me out. When going under general anesthesia for the first time, I was incorrectly dosed due to my low weight, and I spent the following days vomiting at home. Even with better sleep, diet, trying to find a cleaner fuel, and gaining weight, my situation was ugly. I didn’t think much of fire eating in the beginning, but I fell for it hard. It connected me with an international talent agent and opened doors to performing around the world. I had world records and TV shows lined up to see what I can do with fire. I make love to fire in such that it dances on my lips. These are no parlor tricks; this is my joy, my pride, joining me to a global community of magicians, entertainers, and artists. I am admired for this. Despite that, as the sun was coming up at Kinetic, I faced the fact that fire eating is killing me. The decision to quit fire eating is not an easy one. I am grieving. Some of my closest friends, my best companions, and my most trusted confidants developed because of this art. So many people I love and cherish were at Kinetic Fire, there to see as I was escorted to bed, to cry myself to sleep. The next afternoon, I sat with my people, who inspire me so much. I cried in their arms and they cried back. They reminded me that I have other passions that are not fire-breathing or eating. I heard them, even as a piece of me was dying. Everyone who takes up this art is warned about the legion of risks, but I did not expect it to feel like this. We ignore the danger until it is all too tangible. This week, I canceled all my upcoming record attempts, performances, and informed events that I couldn’t demo fire eating in my remaining classes. Each cancellation stung my heart. I continue to feel cold and distant; my dreams are up in smoke; this is not an easy lesson in acceptance. I’m not leaving the community behind. I must take many steps back, but I will stick around to help people learn this beautiful art as safely as possible. I will help find safer ways to do this and I will warn people about the risks. I want my story to remind everyone that there are dangers to playing with fire other than just getting burned. I hope this warns those that discover their passion for fire arts to be more careful. I pray for those blessed by the magic of fire eating, may they never be hurt by it. For more than the pain of a blistering burn, is the enduring heartbreak. Please, stay safe out there. Addendum (June 25th):

So, it has been a month and I have talked to a lot of people about this in the fire eating and fire breathing worlds. Collectively, we have discovered 3 more things that I was doing that probably lead to my suffering when fire eating and fire breathing.

The first is diet; Adam Lobo pointed out that diet is a huge part of staying healthy while fire eating. Without going into a massive list of what’s good and bad, the main suspected foods that hold on to fuel and vapor better are fats and dairy. No one knows this for sure, but a number of fire eater and fire breathers have stated that reducing fats and dairy before fire eating, as well as increasing the amount of fiber reduced the chance or severity of them getting sick; while the opposite made them feel much worse.

Secondly is Hybrids and Dangerous Techniques. Derrick Vermin noticed when he started down the road of Solo-Hybrids and Fuel Traps he too began to feel ill. My journey took me way too far down this path. My Solo-Hybrid skills had me holding both Air and VG Vapor in part of my Lungs, WG in a tongue trap, and both UPLO and WG Vapor in my mouth to pull off certain tricks. Just the WG traps alone could have probably set off my immune system to go haywire let alone the plethora of dumb ideas such as popcorn, micro-torches, and the Vermin’s own technique of ‘Hidden Dragon’ and my version called ‘Crouching Tiger’.

Lastly, Cilantro the Clown pointed out that I practiced in a ‘Binge’ format. Where I would do a lot of fire eating or breathing in a 3-4 hour practice session or 5-6 hour workshop rather than 15-30 min every day. These ‘binge’ sessions are why I ended up so violently sick afterwards and my body probably recognized that the fuel was causing this and then started to react quicker and quicker each time. Had I spread my practice out more, I might have reduced the chance of the intense immune response I developed.

Now, due to my current health, I am not about to test these hypotheses out myself, but I want this information to be available so that future fire eaters and breathers can use it to progress the arts further while reducing possible adverse side effects. I will continue to collect information and knowledge for the safety and protection of fire performers that are wanting to pursue these arts and I hope many others are willing to do the same. Together, I want us all to continue to grow this magical world while keeping our members as safe as possible.

Google Doc Link: https://tinyurl.com/myfireeatingstory