#i took him to a small dog park near my therapist

[servicebodhi]

“Service dogs never get to be real dogs”

[letarasstuff]

Where do you go?

(A/N): This is requested by an anon and based on this post.

Summary: How does Hotch’s daughter, who everyone goes to with their own problems, cope with her mother’s death two years later?

Warnings: Angst. Grief. Dealing with a loved one’s death

Wordcount: 2.2k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Hey (Y/N), I really need your help with Tim. Do you have a minute for me?” (Y/N) turns around to see a boy from her science class. It’s not like she knows him that much, they occasionally team up for small projects, there is nothing more behind that.

“Uh of course. I just had my last class, so I got time for you.” She smiles and lets him, Vincent is his name she thinks, rant to her about how his boyfriend doesn’t understand his needs.

This is nothing out of the ordinary for her, to be asked for advice. She simply is a good listener and gives good tips, the best even according to people close to the teenager. The problem is her limited knowledge on relationships. “Coaches don’t play”, Hotch tells her. And he intends on keeping it that way.

“That does really suck. Did you try to talk to him about it?” (Y/N) asks the boy in front of her. Suddenly he bursts into tears, describing how he only sees breaking up as a solution. She awkwardly pats his back and says encouraging words to him. That he will make the right decision, that he shouldn’t rush it and that he has to take his time.

After Vincent, or is it Gordon, calms down he looks up at the girl. “Thank you for listening. You were a great help, (Y/N).” He hugs her and leaves.

As she looks over the parking lot she spots her father’s car. Excitedly (Y/N) walks over and gets onto the passenger seat. “Hey, I didn’t know you pick me up today”, she greets him.

“We finished the case early and I was on the way home and thought giving you a lift wouldn’t hurt. Who was that boy? Is there something I should know?” Hotch looks at her from the side. But his daughter shakes her head. “Don’t worry, he is gay. He just needed a shoulder to cry on about his ruined relationship.”

“You do know you are not the school’s therapist, don’t you? At this point your classmates should pay you.” He tries to joke about it, but as a father he is worried. Since Haley died, (Y/N) took it upon her to make sure everybody is happy, no matter at what costs.

“I know, Dad. I’m fine and Alex feels better.”

A few days later (Y/N) sits in JJ’s living room, watching the mother go from one place to the next. “Food is in the fridge, so help yourself. Henry’s bedtime is in half an hour, please make sure he goes to sleep by then. He should be easy to put down, Will made sure to tire him out earlier. All important numbers are on the fridge. Feel free to watch anything on the TV.”

The teenager volunteered to babysit Henry, giving his parents a child free evening. “Thank you, JJ. We will rock this, don’t we?” She looks down to the boy on her lap, who nods his head.

“Good. Behave for (Y/N), ok?” The mother gives her son a kiss on the head. After Will’s goodbye the couple is gone.

“Ok, how about we get real comfy on your bed and I read you a story?” Henry nods again. He takes (Y/N) by her hand to his room. As suggested they lay down on his bed.

“Which one do you want me to read to you?” But the boy looks unsure all of a sudden. “Can we just talk?” Surprised the teenager nods. “Whatever you like, champ.”

“Uh okay, do you know Mommy is a bit… much? She is like there and the next second she is here and then she isn’t here for days. I- this is sooo annoying”, Henry rants to her. He is only three, so it is kept rather simple.

“Oh man, she must be a handful, champ. But you have to keep in mind that she really loves you and in the end this is the only thing that matters. Do you love her, too?” It hurts her to talk about a mother’s love, since her own passed away over two years ago. (Y/N) still misses her. She is sure it will never go away.

“Of course I love her.” Sleepily Henry cuddles closer to (Y/N), holding his plush toy near him. After that, he falls asleep safe and sound. The teenager waits for a bit, watching him scrunching up his nose every few minutes.

The next day at the BAU a knock is heard on the Unit Chief’s door. “Come in!”

“Hey Dad, I thought a little visit wont hurt”, the daughter enters the room. Automatically a smile appears on Hotch’s face. “Also, I thought a little help from Spencer wont hurt, too”, she adds with a laugh. “Last time I checked he was in Garcia’s lair. You might have a shot finding him there”, he tips her off.

“Thank you Dad, you are the best!” Not long after this she steps into the Technical Analyst’s office and is immediately greeted by the preppy woman being anything but preppy.

“What in heaven’s name do they think I am, do you know it (Y/N)? They want me to work faster and more efficiently and expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows while looking at the most gruesome pictures ever taken on a daily basis! Un-be-lie-va-ble!” The blonde walks back and forth, gesticulating wildly.

The teenager takes her hands in an attempt to calm her down. “Sit down and tell me from the beginning what you are talking about.” This ends in Penelope raging about some superiors for an hour. When she finally calms down, it is like she wakes up. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to load all that up on you. You don’t need that in addition to-” She suddenly cuts herself off.

“I’m fine, really. It’ll be like any other day.” The smile the girl struggles to put on looks pained. “My sweet sweet summer child, the second anniversary of your mother’s death is not like any other day. You are still allowed to grief, you know that, right?” Penelope hugs (Y/N), cradling her close to her chest.

“I know, Penny. Thank you for reminding me. But I have to go, I need Spencer’s help with my chemistry assignment. You know, gotta keep those grades up.” With that she makes a beeline for the bullpen, leaving a stunned Technical Analyst by herself.

Since Foyet Hotch worries about his daughter. He learned many things about her coping mechanisms in the last two years: She tries to do it on her own.

In times like this the similarity between him and (Y/N) frustrates him. Aaron also tends to deal with his emotions alone, in the safe space of his own four walls. With all of his qualifications he knows it’s not healthy and he slowly learns to let his feelings loose around people he trusts, typically his team.

The difference between (Y/N) and Hotch is that he knows when he reaches his breaking point and she doesn’t about hers. So in a situation like right now being a profiler comes in handy with the job as a father.

It’s the day. The second anniversary of a mother’s death.

Hotch already planned the whole day for his two kids. At first he wakes both of them up, a luxus he seldom is able to indulge. But for today he has called into work saying he won't be coming any time before ten.

The mood around the house is suffocating. Even the little boy notices the heaviness of the day and its meaning.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)? I’m gonna drop you and Jack off at school!” Aaron shouts standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m coming!” The answer is heard faintly.

Not long after this the Hotchner Household is on their way to the youngest’s elementary school. “Behave and remember: If you don’t feel fine it’s okay. Just tell your teachers and they will call me and I will get you, do you understand?” The father looks at his son with a certain seriousness. “Understood”, the blonde boy confirms and gives him a hug.

When he is back onto the driver’s seat, (Y/N) speaks up. “I don’t feel good about letting him to school today. What if he suddenly gets overwhelmed? I don’t think his teachers are able to calm him down.” Hotch gives his daughter a glance from the side. Jack never showed any signs of what she just described.

“They know to call me. I also told him it's all right to let them call me. He is in good hands.” It’s quiet for the next few minutes. “Dad, this is not the way to school”, the teenager tries to alert her father.

“I know. You won’t go today. I called you in sick when you were in the bathroom. I got the day planned, be ready to be surprised.”

The first thing they do is having breakfast in a little niché café. They once visited it regularly with Haley, way long before Jack was born. The two of them sit down at a booth in the corner.

“What can I get you two sweeties?” A waitress asks, her notebook ready in her hands. While the father orders their usuals, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander. So many memories at once crash onto her.

“Do you remember this one waiter, who always got you a hot cup of chocolate for free?” Aaron says after noticing her sad look. The girl begins to smile through the tears forming in her eyes. “Of course. Mom always got nearly a heart attack seeing me down it like it’s juice. I-” Her voice breaks. The tears fall down and make their way over her cheeks.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here. For anything you want or need me. Because nobody expects you to be alright, especially on this day.” He takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. (Y/N) nods, leaning against her father’s shoulder. He puts an arm on her, keeping her closer.

“I know. It’s just- It still hurts. So so badly. I feel like she still is here, but that’s just not true and that hurts me more.” Silently Hotch motions the waitress to make the order to go, while rubbing his child’s arm. Because that’s what she still is, a child.

A child that went through much, especially for her age. When (Y/N) calms down a little, they make their way back to the car.

“I thought we are going to the BAU to distract you for a while. But I can call the team and tell them we are going to do a SPA day at home or something. What do you want?”

“Can we go to them? And maybe leave earlier to do face masks at home before picking Jack up?” There is no way the father can say no to her puppy dog eyes. “Of course, Honey. Anything you want.”

As soon as the doors of the elevator open to floor six of the FBI building in Quantico, Penelope Garcia embraces (Y/N) in a big bear hug. “My sweet sweet summer child. You are so strong, I admire you. We are so happy to have you here” she whispers into the teenager's ear. “Thank you, Penny. Thank you so much.”

Over the course of the next few hours (Y/N) visits everyone’s desk. At first she goes into the lair, where mountains of cookies wait for her. Then she sits at Spencer’s desk, listening to cute facts about sloths. But Emily is quick to steal her from the genius, bribing the girl with new pictures of Sergio. Derek takes the teen from there, pushing her through the office on a desk chair with wheels. Her father is able to hear her laughs in his office, which puts a small smile on his face.

After that (Y/N) goes to JJ, who has a drawn picture from Henry for her. “Will had to write ‘best babysitter ever’ for him”, the blonde explains, pointing at the picture. The girl smiles. “Woah, I think you got a little Picasso at home. Tell him I love it.”

Her last stop is Rossi’s office. The older man looks at her with a fond smile. “Do you know that I see so much of your father and mother in you?” Confused, she glances at him.

“You are as stoic as Aaron. You are determined. But you are also caring and loving, like Haley. You are a perfect combination of both of them. Just keep that in your mind.”

As mysterious as this seems, it somehow makes (Y/N) happy. Happy to know a part of her mother is always with her.

Soon the little family departes for their home. Not long after they bid their goodbyes, Penelope receives a picture of the Unit Chief and the teenager with pink glitter masks. The father is willing to do anything to make her smile, even when this means he gets a basket of various masks the next day for teasingly reasons.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 10: Myofascial Release

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy decompress after an emotional evening, Shane finds it difficult to get out of her own head and live in the moment, but Sy knows exactly how to help her, and not to be a complete hoe and spoil things, but…things get steamier than ever between our favorite therapist and patient duo.

Oh snap! You’re behind! Get on track here!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, the smut you’ve all been waiting for so patiently! (I hope it lives up to your undoubtedly high expectations!)

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, y’all, I am so nervous to post this. Somehow it doesn’t feel like my smuttiest smut. And like, all previous chapters have been kind of leading up to this moment. The good news is, I’ve decided to continue writing this story after the sex. I’ve got some ideas about where to go from here, and I want to keep it going. Plus, it feels wrong to write all of this and then just drop them without a big picture resolution. They’re gonna go through some shit, though. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Her living room was cast in the low light of the floor lamp she had left on. Intending to come home after dark. Alone. She hated walking into a dark house by herself.

Well, tonight, she wasn’t alone. And although Sy had been to her house before, this was different. They were officially a couple, and they were no longer waiting to express, to the fullest extent, their true affection for one another.

Ever the hostess, despite her nervous tension, Shane asked Sy if he wanted anything to drink, rambling off several options somewhat awkwardly.

“I’m fine, darlin.’” He assured her, stopping her at some point in the rant, before she was completely done. “Do you need something?”

“Umm, I think I should have a glass of wine.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen across her serve-through counter space and landed on her fridge. “I’m��I’m really nervous.”

"Why don't we watch a little TV for a while? You get you some wine, and I'll put somethin' on. What are we watchin', sunshine?"

"Ummmm, something light? Funny? Something I've seen." She wouldn't be able to process anything new or heavy right now.

"I'm on it." he kissed the top of her head and left her side for the sofa, where he plopped himself down like a comfy hound dog, and picked up the remote to her Smart TV.

She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. She decided she wanted a snack with her wine. She got a plate of cheese and crackers together first. Then she remembered she had some venison sausage one of her coworkers had brought in, and put that on the plate, too. She got out a chilled bottle of her favorite, cheap moscato and a stemless glass. She couldn't go in there without something for Sy, so she also got a glass of ice water ready for him. She put the whole spread on her big serving tray and took it to the living room.

Sy was already halfway through the first episode of Parks and Recreation.

"I saw this in your 'Watch it again' group, and thought maybe you'd like to re-watch it. I've heard you talk about it a lot, and I've never seen it." He didn't complain at her for taking forever. He just lit up when he saw her. Like it was the first time. And not the hundredth.

"That's perfect, babe. I brought some snacks out, too. Some cheese and crackers, and this really good sausage one of my coworkers brought me. You like deer?" she asked.

"One of my favorite pet names." he teased. "I do, though, yes."

They ate, and laughed, and watched about four or five episodes, it was hard to keep track. But after approximately half the bottle, Shane had summoned some courage. She started playing at the texture of Sy's jeans, running a fingernail across the coarse fabric.

"Hang on, love bug. I want to know somethin.'" she looked up at him, mildly confused. "I'm trying to think of a reason you need to get tipsy to sleep with me that I shouldn't take personally." he rubbed her upper arm, comforting her as no one had done since she was a small child. At least not that she could remember.

"No, Sy. It's not like that. You aren't the problem at all!" she paused. He let her gather her thoughts. She appreciated that he knew she intended to continue and that he didn't rush her to do it. He was patient. And kind. And all of that should have made this whole night easier. But somehow it didn’t.

“I’m the problem." She confessed after a long pause and a deep sigh. "I mean, I’m in my head about it all, I know. But it’s been…almost six years since I’ve slept with anyone, five and a half, at least, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it now that I know it’s going to happen again.”

He pulled her body into his, squeezing her tightly for one of his soul cleansing hugs.

“Sunshine. Everything will come back to ya. We’ll just go as slow as ya want. I got all night.”

“Okay. Well, I guess, since I’m a bit sleepy from the wine, we should head to bed.”

Sy affirmed the idea, and made to help her put their snacks away in the kitchen.

She got out containers for their leftover food while Sy stoppered the wine, put it in the fridge, and washed their glasses.

She felt his warmth before she felt his touch. He stood behind her, radiating his particular brand of heat for a moment, and taking in the scent of her hair near her right ear. She heard a low rumble from someplace deep in him which slowed her efforts at the counter. His hands were light but very much present on her hips. A whisper against the fabric of the casual but feminine floral dress she’d chosen for the night. But she felt it like the weight of her favorite old blanket, heavy with years and warm comfort.

He kissed her temple, chaste and unassuming. But still full of desperation. She could tell that he was ready. Even without the alignment of their bodies completely giving him away.

“Don’tcha think this stuff can wait a couple hours, darlin'?"

His baritone, breathless in her ear, was soothing her back into the mindset of being with him. His feather touch still lingering at her hips and waist. She thought back to those seminars she'd gone to on manual therapy where the speaker talked in depth about the fascial tissues running all across the various muscles in the human body and how trauma to one part could cause tension in another like a snag in a sweater and how he taught the participants techniques to undo that trauma through myofascial release. Sy was slowly managing to unwind and unbind the taut fibers of her heart and relieve that pain that Elliott, in particular had set into place so firmly when he'd hurt her. Lied to her. Cheated on her. Gaslit her. Made her feel like she'd never be loved if she left him. Made her question the very idea of what love meant. Because if what they'd had was truly love, she didn't want it. Wanted no part of the games or the abuse or the manipulation.

Without fully realizing it, during this time of reflection and healing, Shane had given up the task at her hands and turned to Sy, open to his treatment, as he'd always been so open to hers…or mostly. And she let him kiss her, reciprocating. And hold her, returning his enveloping embrace. She even let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting them on his…all too well-defined bilateral gluteus maximus that she'd had to pretend to ignore for weeks. In the therapist side of her brain, alarm bells were going off. "His knee isn't fully healed! You're gonna undo all of the work you've both done so far! He's gonna hurt himself carrying you around!" but she ignored them and trusted him as he walked to her room.

Shane wanted to say that her bedroom was one of splendor. Immaculately made bed, and overall, the picture of tidiness. The reality was much, MUCH different. Glasses half full of water were everywhere (she may be forgetful, but at least she was optimistic), at least one coffee mug sat on the nightstand from the previous weekend when she took a morning cup of tea in bed with her George Harrison biography. Laundry overflowed from a sorting hamper in the corner, and her bed sat, unmade, littered with crumpled pillows, sheets, blankets, and the pajamas she'd slept in last night. She wasn't the kind of person to make her bed for reasons other than having company over, like the fancy company you had to give a tour of your whole house. She'd tried to be that person numerous times, but it never seemed to stick.

Tonight, though, the guilt that came with sub-par housekeeping skills wasn't plaguing her. Right now, all she felt was the weightlessness of being with Sy, wrapped in him, kissing him, and fully ready for what was about to happen between them, as he fell with her onto her bed. Their heads clunked together awkwardly, invoking a mutual wince, followed by bouts of laughter and playful kisses.

He hovered over her a moment, just taking her in. His fingers ghosting her forehead and cheeks to clear it of the whisps of hair obscuring her face. He seemed to examine her in methodical quadrants. Learning the curves and colors and every wrinkle, freckle, and pore. She was still fully clothed, but she'd never felt so bare and vulnerable.

He left her eyes for last. His gaze drowning her delightfully. Random song lyrics came to mind, "the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake" and she thought yes. That is the precise aesthetic of this man's stare. His expression was inscrutable. She wanted to say he looked happy and content, but she didn't want to presume.

He began tracing the floral pattern on her dress with his fingers, and said, "I really like this dress on you."

She laughed, "Oh, that's the beginning of the oldest line in the book. You know you've already got me in bed, right?"

"No, I…" he chuckled, embarrased. "I mean it sincerely. Seeing you in flowers like this…makes me think they bloom right from ya."

She propped herself up on her elbows, dumbstruck by this uncharacteristically poetic side of him she'd just been shown. She stroked the side of his face.

"The man who came up with the original pickup line is rolling over in his grave attempting to kick himself for not thinking of something so beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"HELL yeah. He would have gotten WAY more lucky with a statement like that."

"You're probably right." he said, pulling her up to hold her in his arms.

"If for no other reason that it would have landed him a higher caliber woman than the floozies that he probably got."

He moaned his ascent against her neck, and continued, "Which would have meant a lot more getting lucky down the road, right?"

"Traditionally speaking, I'd say yes." she laughed, her fingers in his hair, which was barely long enough for the action.

"Okay, I know I said I liked the dress, but…" he tugged at the hemline tucked just under her hips and pulled it off her willing body.

"About time, cowboy!" she smiled, breathless.

He continued kissing her as he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, into the abyss, where the dress had gone. She was so dizzy from him that she barely noticed he was laying her down until her warm back hit cool sheets. She could feel his touch everywhere at once, despite the fact that he was really only making two or three points of contact.

Shane trembled as Sy peppered her soft body with kisses. She couldn't recall shivering like this before, especially when there was nothing but warmth, even heat, around her. His beard grazing her hips and thighs was sending tremors through her unlike anything she'd ever felt. She was a goner, and he hadn't even truly begun.

His breath against her skin was like lightning in the clouds. A storm began forming within, and all around them from his work on her…and eventually in her. He took the time to remove both of the shirts he was wearing--plaid cotton blend and thick white jersey. She reached out to run her fingertips over his chest, covered in a manly stand of thick, dark hair. It ran over his pecs and down his abdomen…farther, she knew, than was exposed right now.

She wanted to touch him. To return the favor. To stir in him the same tempest he'd stirred in her. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She was a little surprised he wasn't resisting her, but pleased, all the same. She took the heavy weight of him out in some shock…she'd caught outlines and silhouettes often since they'd been together, but he hadn't let her go this far yet. It had made her feel a little slutty at the time, but now, she understood. He was…protecting her, in a way. She handled him curiously, gently, as he'd been with her. Her apprehension, however, grew with him.

"Sy, you're…I…" she wasn't sure what to say. But she had concerns about being rent in two by him.

"I think I remember tellin' ya you wouldn't be laughin,' sunshine." he grinned at her, breathless as she stroked him.

"You were right. But don't get too used to me saying so." she smirked back at him.

He pulled away from her, reluctantly, but eager to get back to tasting her.

She couldn't comprehend what he was doing. But it felt incredible. No one she'd ever been with had made her feel like this. Like her blood was effervescent and her body was aglow like embers. His reaction to her was as much a part of the pleasure as his ministrations themselves. She could tell he was enjoying himself which fed her desire.

She felt a tension coiling inside her, something similar to climaxes past but she could tell, much more intense. What was different? Other than Sy, she didn't know. But it was working. She moaned and writhed into him.

"Yeah, sugar. Let that out. I wanna hear it." he quickened, driving her mad and sending her spinning into her bliss, incomprehensible words and sounds escaping her, growls of satisfaction escaping him, but he didn't stop.

She felt his fingers working inside her to pull another climax from deep within her. This was new for her, as well. Not only was he putting her first, but he was making her a priority in double measure before taking anything for himself. As that pressure built in her again, she felt his gaze on her, hungry and adoring, and she heard his grunts of exertion and she thought, lust. She wasn't sure how many of his digits he'd managed to slide into her, but it felt splendid, and she wanted more. She gripped his arms to convey this desire, words caught in her throat. He dove headlong back down to her, adding his mouth to the onslaught of his hand, and before she could get out more than a "Fuuuu" she was falling apart again, her body spasming and writhing beneath his utter oral perfection. Eventually, she finished the word when she ran out of air and had to take in a large gasp on the "uck."

She watched him kiss around her thighs and hips, in awe of him in his entirety.

Breathless, she asked, "Why are you so good to me, Sy?"

"Well, a wise woman once told me, 'good go to heaven.'" he looked coyly up at her. "I think I'm there, sunshine."

"Ya know, you're the best patient I've ever had." she smiled.

"Well, I should hope so." he boasted as he kissed at her breasts, nipping at the taut, dark bud in the center. She gasped. He let go and continued his ascent.

He had a point. Who could have qualified as a "better" patient than him when he'd given her so much? Even more than what they were doing tonight. His kindness. The love he had always shown her, even when she wasn't ready to see it. His strength, but also his vulnerability that she seemed to be the only one ever to see. Combine that with the fact that his mind was basically a steel trap for her every word and it would have made him more than perfect enough for her.

But as he broke away from her kiss to take off his jeans, she marveled at the shape and size of his whole body. Those thick, strong arms, the broad, defined torso, the massive, powerful legs of an avid runner, and a face that God Himself would probably be jealous of, if He was capable of the feeling. This gorgeous exterior that Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt, combined with all of his other amazing qualities, and he was almost too perfect.

He cuddled up next to her, reached up, and caressed her face, still flush with pleasure.

"I could look at this face, and nothin' else for…damn… hours. Maybe days."

She blushed and cast her eyes down, and half whispered, "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why're you lookin' away, darlin'?" he tilted her chin up. "That shy business is cute and all, but you don't have to hide from me, sweetheart."

"Again, it's not you, it's me." she chuckled, nervously.

"You wanna call it a night, for now?" he asked without a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You're kidding, right?" she raised her eyebrows. "You did all that work getting me ready for you, and I won't let that be a wasted effort." she pulled him to her and into a deep kiss, rolling onto her back and bringing him with her.

"Oh, sugar, that wasn't no wasted effort. That was time well spent. No matter what." he said in short bursts when he could pull away from her lips.

He lifted himself up and over her, kneeling between her legs, already open for him. She thought he should know how ready she was. Thought it should be painfully obvious. But he asked anyway.

"You ready, sunshine?" he asked, as he opened the condom and rolled it on…damn he was slick! She hadn't even noticed him get it from wherever he'd had it. She presumed his jeans pocket, which would explain much. She had been very distracted by his naked perfection.

"Yes. Please." she had been struck with an urgency as they stood here on the verge of everything.

He sunk slowly into her, the contentment of coming home spread over his face, the bliss of being whole spreading over hers. No, she thought. She was more than whole. She'd always felt mostly whole during sex. Sy made her feel as though she was overflowing with herself. And not just because she was overflowing with him. The way he moved in her, over her, with her, it was like he was afraid she'd turn to vapor around him before he could finish. Like she was nothing more substantial than a bubble full of smoke, and he thought she may burst and disappear. Although, you couldn't tell from the tight grip he kept on her. A bruising grip that she thought might have had a chance of popping a football. She didn't care. She wanted him to touch and hold her like this until they had no more to give each other.

As they built toward their mutual undoing, the world and everything in it faded away. There was no personal drama or injury. Nothing but the euphoria of this newfound oneness. The caresses and thrusts and groans of pleasure were the only things that mattered. Each other, and what they found therein.

“Shane.” He whispered to her, his pinnacle nigh.

“Sy!” She whimpered, that familiar tension approaching its apex.

He kissed her, as if he meant to permanently emboss her onto the bedding and onto his lips. She reeled as she came undone, little sparks of light obscuring her vision for a fraction of a second. He followed her closely, breathless and spent.

He laid down beside her, as close to her as possible, and began drawing mindless circular patterns on her stomach and around her breasts.

“Wow.” She said, almost under her breath.

“How ya feelin,’ sunshine?”

“Mmm, boneless. Dazed. Half wishing we’d done that weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue what I was missing.”

“Oh, I think you had an idea.” He said as he neatly doffed and disposed of the prophylactic in the waste can by her bed.

“Okay, a bit.” She chuckled. “It’s not like you can hide that…thing.”

“And I don’t try to, darlin’!” He kissed her forehead “Well, I don’t hide it just anywhere, put it that way.” He smirked at his dirty joke and she swatted him for it.

“You’re bad!”

“And you love it.”

She couldn’t argue. She loved his badness and his goodness and everything in between.

Up Next: Chapter Eleven- Discharge Plan 

[fivesevenseveneight]

Second Chances: Part 6

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 1470

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: nonbinary!Deceit (referred to as Dee because I started this before the name reveal and I don’t want to change it), Alastor (OC), Carl (OC), Virgil is mentioned but not by name

Pairings: eventual anxceitmus

Warnings: Dee gets a snake, food mention, toxic relationship

A/n: I still do not know how to do a read more on mobile, so if anyone does please tell me. Please let me know if I need to tag something or if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist. @iosonnounpanne thanks for reviewing this for me!

Dee loved snakes. They had loved snakes ever since they learned what the little yellow creature on their palm was, and for their whole life, they’d dreamed of having one. They had researched everything that they would need to have and do to take care of a snake, and they’d been planning on getting one soon after starting law school. But then they met Alastor, life got complicated, and two-and-a-half years passed with still no snake.

Hopefully though, that would change soon. Dee had slowly been building up the courage to ask Alastor about getting a snake. It was a delicate process. If they asked at the wrong time, or caught him off-guard, or gave him any rational reason to say no, he would, and the topic would be closed for discussion forever. Plus, there was a pretty good chance of him yelling in any of those scenarios. So, Dee had been casually mentioning snakes and the idea of getting a pet, and Alastor seemed fine with both. But they had yet to actually ask him.

Today, Dee thought, their heart pounding. Today is the day I’m going to ask.

Alastor hadn’t slammed the door when he got home from work, he didn’t yell at Dee for forgetting to do the laundry, and he even hummed while Dee made dinner, which he only did when he was in a good mood. Dee had been waiting a long time for such a perfect opportunity, and they were not going to waste it. Not again.

Dee cleared their throat and looked meaningfully at Alastor, who was sitting at the opposite side of the dinner table. He swallowed the bite of food he’d taken and looked up at Dee.

“Do you need something?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Dee said, ignoring every instinct that screamed at them to be quiet. “I was thinking about getting a snake. I’ve been interested in getting one for a long time, and I know that—well, you’ve mentioned before that you like snakes, too. Besides, our soulmark is a snake, and I think it would be… fitting.” They held up their right hand and let out a tiny, nervous laugh.

Alastor went quiet for a moment, and Dee added quickly, “I’ve done a lot of research. I know exactly what I need, and I’ve saved up enough money for all the supplies. You wouldn’t have to pay for or do anything.”

After a nerve-racking pause, Alastor finally answered. “Fine. As long as you take care of it.”

Dee felt weak with relief. They thanked him, promising that they would work everything out. Then they asked Alastor how his day was, and listened to him rant about an annoying coworker until long after the neighbors had fallen asleep.

***

The harsh fluorescent lighting in the pet store hurt Dee’s eyes, but they couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful brown snakes in a tank on the wall.

“Ball pythons,” said an employee, walking up to Dee.

“I know,” Dee said, not looking away.

The employee stood there awkwardly, waiting to see if Dee would say anything more. They didn’t.

“Can I help you?” the employee finally asked.

Dee sighed to themself, reluctant to tear their eyes away from the gorgeous little snakes, and looked over at the employee, who wore a name tag that read: Carl (he/him).

“I’m not the usual reptile guy,” the employee, Carl, added quickly. “He’s out today, so I’m filling in.”

“I’m looking for a snake.”

Carl smiled. “Well, you came to the right place.” He opened up the tank with several baby ball pythons in it. “Is there a specific one you want?”

Dee looked over the small snakes curled up in various places and positions around the tank. It was hard to pick one; they all looked so perfect. Then, their eyes locked on a smallish-looking half-albino in the back. “That one,” said Dee, pointing. “In the corner.”

Carl grabbed a tiny cardboard box with small holes punched into it and carefully swept up the snake, placing it gently in the container.

Dee picked out the rest of the supplies they needed, signed a few forms, and went home. When they were sure that everything had been set up properly, they—very slowly and delicately—placed their new reptilian companion in the tank that stretched across a cleared-off spot on their dresser. The snake stayed still for a moment, then began slithering tentatively around the tank. Dee crouched down to watch the snake at eye level.

“I think I’ll call you Dante,” they said. “You look like a Dante.”

Dante flicked out their tongue.

Dee couldn’t help but giggle at that. “You’re a good listener aren’t you?”

Dante didn’t say anything (obviously).

Dee stood up. “I’m probably freaking you out now. I’m going to go for a run. You stay out of trouble, okay?”

Dante slithered under a rock.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

After checking one more time to make sure that everything in the tank was in order, Dee grabbed their jacket and went outside. The air was crisp and cool—perfect for an afternoon jog. The sky was gray and full of clouds. There were a few people walking around, mostly in pairs (presumably soulmates). They seemed to be taking advantage of the calm spring weather, just like Dee was.

Dee put in their earbuds and sighed, relaxing and letting the rhythm of their music envelop them. The whole world seemed to slow and shift so that all the fears and worries surrounding them went just out of focus. Dee loved it. It was like being underwater, except they could breathe fine. It let them clear their mind and gave them the space to think, whereas every other part of their life seemed crowded and smothered by people or expectations or some looming threat that wasn’t quite clear to them yet.

(Jogging was actually a suggestion from Dee’s therapist. Dee had decided to go to therapy about a year ago and admittedly, it had been helping. Although, Dee still couldn’t quite figure out how to tell Alastor that they were going to therapy. They just called it their “Monday night yoga class” and he didn’t question it, thankfully.)

Dee let themself slip into a trance of being relaxed yet alert, and jogged around the city, casually noting the things they saw. There was the pawn shop, and the large, grungy Going out of business! sign adorning its front window. There was the bookstore, and the pet store, and the tattoo parlor. Eventually, Dee reaches the park (where someone was walking a very large dog), and next to it, the cemetery.

Going by the cemetery always made Dee a bit nervous. They wouldn’t say that they were superstitious, but hey, you could never be too careful, right? Most days, the cemetery was empty; but today, there was one person there, standing near a tall, solitary oak tree. They were wearing a black hoodie and seemed to have purple hair (although, at this distance, Dee couldn’t be sure). It almost looked like they were talking.

Dee shook their head and refocused on their course. Whoever was at the cemetery, whatever their purpose was for being there, it didn’t matter, at least not to Dee.

Finally, after hints of indigo had begun to creep into the sky, Dee arrived at home. They took off their jacket and removed their earbuds, panting softly. They walked into their bedroom and checked on Dante, who was now curled up in the back corner of the tank. Dee set a hand on the dresser, careful not to shake the tank and startle Dante.

“How’s it going, buddy? You seem to be getting settled in nicely,” Dee said. “Just wait till my soulmate gets here. You’ll love him. I do.” Dee smiled. “I do,” they repeated to no one.

If anyone had asked, Dee would have happily shared that the reason they chose Dante was because of the pattern of scales on their head. The half-albino effect made their head entirely white—except for a large patch of brown on the left side of their snout. It was beautiful, like it had been painted on by an expert artist. It reminded Dee of the birthmark on their own face.

It looks beautiful on Dante. Maybe it looks beautiful on me, too. Dee gently traced the curves of the serpent on their palm, still watching Dante.

Slam! Dee flinched at the sudden, sharp noise of the front door shutting.

“Look who’s home,” Dee said softly.

He slammed the door harder than he needed to, Dee noted. He must’ve had a bad day. Again.

Dee slipped out of the room and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, bracing themself for another long tirade from Alastor. He did not disappoint.

(Taglist: @sociallyanxious-1 @someone-idk-is-here @the-melody-of-eliza @froggols @deadeyedustin @sympathetic-deceit-trash @surleytemple @entitydark @sadgayisme )

[ofmythsandmadness]

i need a favour - four.

PART FOUR - and so, the truth starts to come out (just a little). or, someone starts to realise that what she’s feeling is a little more than just nerves about this fake relationship - that she might be a bit more invested than she ever would have thought.

WORD COUNT - 2819. A/N -  This is a mess of a chapter, sorry folks. I’m not great at this. My gay ass is really just trying to make this work for y’all and truly, it shows. If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask and let me know. As well, if I missed you, just shoot a heads up.

SHE EAGERLY ACCEPTED THE CUP, only to hissing and hurry to place it down. However, she waved off Vanya’s immediate ‘I’m sorry’s’ with a sheepish grin. “It’s fine, I’m good. See?” She waved her slightly reddened fingers to prove her point - which the girl did not really buy, but at least seemed somewhat mollified.

After daring to test another sip - and regretting it immediately after - Y/N turned her attention back to the other woman, sitting across from her. They were around the same height, and yet every time Vanya always looked so much smaller, like a child in an adult’s body who’s too lost in this cruel world to properly function yet.

Far too apt for a vague thought, she bitterly rebutted herself.

“Sorry for stopping by like this,” she started, readjusting herself against the couch cushions. “I just wanted to pass on my well wishes and I saw the posters for the orchestra, figured I should pass on the good will in person.”

Vanya smiled softly. “It’s no problem. And thanks, yeah...yeah, the kids have been working hard.”

By the kids, she meant a small collection of junior students who she had begun to teach after the apocalypse situation. She still nursed a myriad of trauma around performing herself, but she had been encouraged (by both Y/N and her therapist, as well as her siblings when they were about) to not give up on something she loved. And so, she took up teaching again, but went about it with the hopes of creating a mini group of performers of her own. Y/N could tell it was not the same as performing herself, but at least it was something. As she worked on both herself and her strange abilities, it would be enough.

“I hope I can still crash the party? I don’t know much about classical music, but I have gotten quite good at pretending like I know more than I do. Diego’s nonsense helps with that.”

The other girl’s smile bloomed a little, at that. “Is he playing plus one to that, too?”

“Huh - oh, yeah, well...I don’t know,” she stuttered, stumbling over every word like it was from a whole new language. “Haven’t asked, but you know, no matter what the guy says he likes kids. Maybe he can uh, put...put the knives away for the night. Or something.”

“He doesn’t have to-”

“-no, of course he’d-”

“-it’s not his scene, and he’s a busy guy,” Vanya rushed, “you don’t have to feel bad. It was just a joke.”

Normally, Y/N would know that. In fact, she would be so quick to catch any joyful points in their conversations that she would overplay her reactions, laugh a bit too hard and like, slap her knee or something stupid like that. But that time, the reference had gone right over her head and then slapped her right in the back, enough to make her fall over and collapse. She was doing her best to get up and rebuild that hole in her wall again, but it was difficult and she could feel herself coming undone by every passing second.

As if sensing her panic - or maybe just seeing it as it was displayed on her face - Vanya moved forward and gently touched her hand. “I didn’t mean to start anything, or - or say something wrong.”

“Oh. No. NO, you did nothing wrong.”

“But-”

“-sorry, I just lost my train of thought and along with it went my brain, I guess.” Y/N was back to smiling, but it was fake as shit and both of them knew it. “What were we talking about?”

“Hey...is ev-what’s wrong, Y/N?”

She knew Vanya was only trying to be nice - and genuinely nice, as sign by her changing the bland ‘are you okay’ to a real question. She also knew that she had dug herself into a really, really deep hole and it was going to take a whole shit tonne of climbing to get out of it. And this time, she was not sure a smack on the lips was going to solve the issue.

“Would you believe me if I say I’m all good?” Y/N tried weakly, only to sign and slump into the couch when her head shook no. “Alright. Uh...you got anything stronger than coffee? This is a douzy.”

“I think I can handle it. Considering...everything.”

She laughed bitterly from between her friend’s couch cushions, then attempting to smother herself between them. It did not work, but it was nice to hide her face for a quick moment. “This might just be more surprising then everything else, Vannie...believe me.”

Vanya came back quickly with the glasses, and Y/N hesitated none to gulp the drink down regardless of the burn. After that, she struggled through the entire story, the ups and downs and even the stupid little anecdotes shared between her and Diego just to make it seem a bit funnier than it was - like it was just a fun game and not her love life being through around and about like nuts. But honestly recounting it back just made it sound even more dismal and humiliating and plain-out weirder. More than it already was to her.

Vanya was silent throughout it all, simply nodding along and letting her speak without pause. She supposed that was a good thing, she was grateful there was no need to stop - mostly because if she did, she might just never speak again.

Y/N finished it off with a sigh and a wry smile, raising her glass to her lips in an attempt to get the last drops out, sans manners and any grace. “That’s that,” she grumbled. “That’s...that’s that.”

And all Vanya said to that, was a quiet, monotone, rather emotionless, “oh.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Oh? That’s it?”

“Well - I don’t - I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just unexpected,” she offered up. When the only response was a quirk of her eyebrows, Vanya moved to explain. “I just thought...you two really had just gone for it. Like we had always teased you two about.”

Her cheeks bloomed with colour, forcing Y/N to duck her head and hide the flush. Not that it did much good, the splotchy red was much too eager to show her embarrassment then appease her. “No. ‘Fraid not. We’re just friends...who are now pretending to be sleeping with each other.”

“But why?”

She shrugged haplessly. “He wanted a break from everyone dogging him about being single, I guess...and I didn’t have anything better to do. I figure do ‘im a favour, he does one back, we’re even - except I didn’t really think it’d be this...big.” As in, she did not imagine kissing him. In front of his entire family, sans Five and their dear old dead daddy.

And also, actually fucking enjoying it.

“And technically, we’re not supposed to say a word to anyone, it’s on the list - but man, I just, I just need to talk to someone about this.” She gratefully accepted the second drink, swallowing it down in three hearty gulps. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I mean, I agreed to this, right? And it’s my fault for thinking this could be a walk in the park. I just thought...I don’t know what I thought. I guess I didn’t.”

Vanya smiled a little at that, and finally moved, walking around her coffee table to take a seat beside Y/N. She took the other’s hand in hers, squeezing ever so lightly. “It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple months, right?”

“I guess, but I feel like I’m already screwing it all up. I mean, it’s been like a week and a half? And I’ve already made a fool in front of everyone, and kissed him - and then blurted out the secret to someone! I mean, I might as well propose to him and then tell him our entire friendship is a lie, too!”

Despite herself, Vanya grinned, finding the humour in Y/N’s words, despite the panic on her face. She squeezed her hand a little tighter. “You’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that, though?”

“Because,” she replied slowly, “you told someone, but just one. And I’m not going to say a word to him. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“...and you didn’t make a fool out of yourself, really. You guys were cute. And everyone believed it, mostly because they’ve all secretly wanted you two to get together for years. I mean, since the moment they first heard your name leave Diego’s lips, Allison was making wedding invitations and Klaus was coming up with the worst moments to drop hints about you. I’m surprised you never caught them,” Vanya finished, lip curling a little at the memories.

Y/N knew enough about the siblings’ thoughts about her and Diego. It was unavoidable and for the most part she was fine with them conspiring. It was only when the mention of Diego came up, when one of them said something alluding to the fact that maybe he talked about her a little more than mere friends...that maybe there was a whole lot she did not know about.

Just as she was going to ask Vanya what she was referring to, the other girl cut her off. “And the kiss, like you said it was nothing. You had to do it, and it didn’t mean anything. So you’re still okay.”

And at that, she felt all the blood that had flooded her face drain right out, leaving her pale and panicked next to her close friend. And just like before, there was no hiding her expression or the plain out anxiety attack raging underneath her skin.

It did not take a wizard, to figure out what had caused it.

“Oh, Y/N-”

“-I don’t know, it just-”

“-Y/N...”

Y/N slumped back and covered her face with the cushion, groaning loudly into the fabric. “Shit.”

||

WHEN HE CAME BY THAT NIGHT, she was cold. 

Polite, and caring as always - but cold in her actions, in her few-word replies, in the way she shied away from any near-touch possibly laid upon her skin.

It was not intentional, at least not at the start. She was a mess most of the afternoon and early evening, but then as the sun fell and the hours crept away faster and faster, she felt herself close off. Even from herself. Like she had rebuilt that wall but it had been built too high and too close, so everything was left out of her heart. Not enough so it could not hurt, not so she could not feel waves of guilt every time she did something stand-offish - but enough to make it continue.

She knew he felt it too, but neither said a thing on it. For that, she was grateful. It was easier to move in silence then have to stop and think about the storm in her head. Mostly? Because if she did let her guard down maybe even a second, she might collapse entirely. And no one could have that.

“Here. Take these.”

His only response was a grunt and a nod, fingers barely brushing hers to take the small pills. She pushed back her worries and maintained the same blank expression, watching as he dry-swallowed the Advil. When he was done, she pushed off the coffee table.

“Need anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Shower, there’s some of your shit in the dryer now you can change into. Come in when you’re done.”

“I’ll just-”

“-you’re not goin’ anywhere,” she barked. For a moment, she softened, considering a sweeter tone and more reason than shouting orders. But quickly that idea shrivelled up. “It’s late. You need rest. You’re already here anyways.”

“I’m not-”

“-Diego, please.”

He finally left the couch. She heard him moving behind her, but dared not turn to look his way. Instead, her eyes remained train forward, frozen on the window he had come through Watching, tracing the frame, paralysed in replaying all the instances in which she had stood there before. 

“What did I do?”

Her eyes clenched shut, squeezing with all her might; gone was the window, replaced only by darkness. “Nothing. I’m just tired.” A slight pause, then: “sorry.”

“There’s more than that, isn’t there?” Slow, stumbling steps in the shallow dark walked her way. They remained a distance away - and yet she felt like he was right there. “I did something.”

“No.”

“Bullshit. You’re upset - at me.” There was bitter humour in his voice then. “I’ve known you too long to believe any of your lies.”

When Y/N opened her eyes again, they watered and struggled to even make out the shadows, finding the night still pressing into her skull. Digging its claws in, trying to wrench out all her fears and emotions and the shit she had buried deep deep deep within. Offer up her heart on a silver platter and leave her dead in the process.

She smiled ever so slightly. In the words of Cher fucking Horowitz, ‘as if’. No weepy confessions to be made that night.

Instead, she turned and made her lips turn up more, into a more believable grin. “I’m sorry. It’s been - it’s been a long week, feels like everything’s hitting me. I didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

“I-I know-”

“-it’s okay,” she murmured, voice hitching at his slight stutter. “It’s fine. Seriously, Diego, I just need to sleep this off. And uh, so do you.”

Diego sighed, hesitating as he thought over his words before pushing forward. “Why do you put up with me, do all this?”

“I’m not doing much.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“Sleep is overrated, you and I both know that.”

“Come on.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You’re exhausted, Y/N.”

She shrugged lightly. “Maybe. But I’d rather sacrifice an hour or two if - if it means I know you’re alright.”

Those words not the words that she had originally planned on saying. But they came out anyways, and hung heavily in the air, a wall of tension that left both sides unsure of what came next.

Before he could try and pry, ask about those softly spoken words, about the way her voice cracked a little at the end, she spoke. “I’m your girlfriend, Diego, can you blame me for caring about you getting home safe or not? I mean, I can’t have the love of my life dead in a fuckin’ alley somewhere.”

At that, she just smiled and turned, hurrying off to her room. She heard him speak, but it was too soft to pick up, and so she discarded it with the rest of the conversation. Just let herself sink into the blankets once more and shut her eyes, begging for sleep even when her brain was more awake than ever. Like she could sleep, after this. She never did.

Y/N listened instead as he moved around, shuffling into the bathroom and starting up the shower. He was brief, only a few moments before the water turned off and he was back to quietly rustling around. Soon enough, maybe ten minutes or so and he was in the doorway of her bedroom.

She shut her eyes and pretended to be already asleep, just as she always did. Let him feel safe within the darkness, moving to the other side and slipping under the covers. He laid still and at the edge, as always, still as anything so as not to overstep any boundaries. Sometimes, she smiled at that - other times, she longed for him to roll over and move close to her, put his arms around her and-

-with a start, Y/N realised that the silence had been broken by him. He had sighed, followed by a soft sniffle. She dared not move even a muscle, frozen against her pillow as Diego groaned once more and adjusted his pillow. 

And just when she thought it was over, he spoke. Just three words, soft as a breath. If it were not for the heavy silence, she would not have caught it, but he might as well had shouted it in that instant.

“You fucking idiot.”

Y/N dared to breathe, soft and slow, attempting to play asleep. But even if she wasn’t pulling it off, she was not sure if he even heard, so wrapped up in his own thoughts. 

Not for the first time, she longed to roll over and touch him, reassure him she was there with him. Ask what was on his mind, and if their thoughts paralleled in any way or form. But like always, they remained on opposite ends, too eager to maintain a friendship to overstep. She remained still and staring out into the darkness, listening to her exhales matching with his own shallow breaths.

Neither of them would sleep much, that night.

TAGLIST -  @asexualmarauder​ @thatshellfiredean​ @the-bird-suit​  @rangotangomango​ @fandomsandmore394​ @thatkidofwarandpeace​ @antoouu @soul-of-a-traveller​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @artsyle​

[jonogueirawrites]

Save me from myself.

Chapter 11.

AO3

Summary:

All she wanted was to give Bucky a little something, but in the end, Lilly gave him much more than that

TW: none.

Remember.

Making circles with her thumb on the small box in her hand, Lilly made her way to the stationery store down the street.

The place was bustling with people going on with their lives. Some of them had their faces down, looking at their phones while others chatted amicably with their friends laughing freely.

She was waiting for the pedestrian traffic light to turn green when a dog barked, drawing her attention. The small animal played with a couple who sat on the park’s blue bench. Resting under the shade of a big old tree.

A small sigh escaped her mouth as her chest filled with longing for things she could only imagine, and once again, her thumb caressed the wooden box in her palm.

Taking her eyes from the scene, she walked across the street and made her way to the store.

All kinds of wrapping paper crowded the walls. From seasonal to birthday. From thematic to classic. Her eyes were overwhelmed with so many options, and her mind started sorting through all of them.

A petite girl with an easy smile neared and started asking questions to help her. Help that she happily welcomed since that kind of delicate manual work was foreign to her. Stabbing, suffocating, cleaning guns? She could do it with closed eyes. Her fingers knew all of it. Wrapping, decorating, and making bows? Not even close.

After a couple of minutes, Lilly left the store with a beautiful sky-blue gift box, ornated with a small silver bow sitting on top of it. The box fitted perfectly on her hand, and she hid it away inside a black plastic bag. Pleased with her choice, she headed to one more place before her final destination.

The room was bare, and the girl greeted her with a big smile. Although they had never met before, they had a friend in common. A friend that both wanted to see happy.

“Thank you, Shuri.” Lillian hugged the princess. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call you Her…”

“That won’t be necessary. Please, and thank you!” They laughed.

“I’ll see you around then?” She asked from the door.

“As soon as my brother gets off my back.” Shuri rolled her eyes and waved Lilly a farewell.

With everything set, Lillian was finally able to go to the compound.

Joyful laughter was what she wanted to hear, but instead, she found an empty place. She knew they weren’t on any mission, so where could they be?

Walking to the kitchen, she opened the fridge and served herself some of Tony’s ice-cream. How could she resist something so tempting? She had already told Tony to not leave it in the fridge if he didn’t want her to have some, but the man just gave her a tired smile.

Her eyes fluttered closed with the first spoon, and with the second, her brain forgot how to function.

Minutes had passed, and when the ice cream was gone, she stood up and washed the dishes that were left in the sink. Tired of waiting around, she took the phone from her pocket and called Steve.

He picked it up on the second ring. Lilly could hear the smile on his voice.

“Lilly.”

“Where are you guys? I’ve been waiting here forever.” She slumped in Steve’s favorite seat.

“You never said you were coming by-”

“Do I need invitations now?” Her lips curled up, and she giggled.

“Of course, not. But if I knew you’d be coming, I would have invited you to the meeting-”

“Because that is a hard pass, right?”

“They are not the most entertaining, but they are important to… Anyway. We have just finished and are coming back, just give me a minute and-”

“Actually,…” she scratched her head and bit her lower lip, “I’m here to see Bucky.”

“Oh, it is Bucky now? I see.” He chuckled.

“I just came to thank him for the other day. The picnic, remember?”

“Yeah, How could I?” There was silence for a moment. “How’s therapy?”

“It’s surprisingly good.” She threw her legs up the armrest. “Better than I expected.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t forget, we have to catch that movie on Friday.”

“No way, I would forget it. How long have we been planning it?”

“Feels like years now.” His voice came from the elevator, and they hung up. “So,…” he continued when he entered the room, “I bring the stomach, and you bring the food?” He laughed animatedly.

“Sure. I owe you one.” Lilly looked at him. The therapist he recommended did, indeed, help her more than she imagined. “Just don’t expect me to do all the work every time.”

Steve gave her a tight hug. They talked for a bit longer before she headed to Bucky’s room.

The elevator ride was smooth and lonely. Everyone had their things to do and were out, except Steve, Bucky, and Clint.

Once again, she found herself standing in front of his white ash door, although this time, she hoped there were more cheerful memories to be made.

Knocking on the door, she heard movement inside, and for some reason, she didn’t know, her hands patted her clothes. A funny feeling settled in her stomach while she closed her hands in balls at her sides.

As soon as the door opened and his face came into view, something inside her snapped. When her eyes met his, her lips became a huge smile, one that she noticed he had as well.

For a couple of seconds, they stared at each other until Bucky leaned on the frame and crossed his arms over his chest.

The light grey t-shirt hugged his frame, catching her attention. With the motion of his body, the fabric slid upwards, displaying the beginning of firm abs and promises of delicious things hidden beneath black sweatpants.

Pretending to fumble with the plastic bag not to be caught staring at his body, she lifted it and flashed him a smile, not before swallowing all the saliva in her mouth.

“I have something for you.” She shook the bag. “And I hope you like it because it was not easy to find.”

“What did I do to deserve it?” He walked back inside and waited for her to enter before closing the door.

“You were there when I needed it.” Lilly’s voice was firm, but her eyes didn’t look at his.

“Lillian, I…” She turned with the gift in her hands, and he stared at it.

She walked to his bed and sat. Patting at her side, she waited for him to sit and then placed the box into his open hands.

“You don’t have to say anything.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “C’mon. Open it.” She poked his hand.

His gaze lifted to hers, and she made sure to sit closer until their bodies were touching. His skin was warm, and his smell intoxicating. Bucky was tempting in more ways than Lilly thought possible, and that realization was not only confusing but also scary. Still, she found herself reaching for his face with the tips of her fingers to tuck the strands of hair that persisted in blocking her view of his calming blue eyes.

When she touched his skin, she noticed how deep he breathed, the way his eyes flicked to her lips.

Biting his lip, Bucky averted her gaze and started to open the gift, and Lillian couldn’t help but wring her hands.

-----

Bucky didn’t understand why he was so nervous. Of course, it had nothing to do with her body so close to his. Her hair caressing his skin and its smell reaching his nose. Its gentle smell was unable to mask her natural scent, which, in a strange way, was soothing to him.

He placed the box on his lap, afraid of dropping it and ruining whatever was inside when she leaned over his shoulder, and he felt her body pressed against his.

Commanding his body not to betray him by displaying his emotion, he carefully took the ends of the strings with his slightly trembling fingers and pulled. Thinking the bow would fall on the floor, he reached to grab it with his flash hand, only to have it curl around her delicate skin because she had the same reaction. Without looking over his shoulder, his thumb made circles on her hand before letting it go. Moments later, he still felt her warmth in his hand.

With great care and precise movements, he unwrapped the box. His fingers tenderly brushed the lid. In beautifully engraved letters, a message was written in it.

“Write notes to remember who you were.

Write notes to remembers who you are

Write notes to remember who you want to be.

Write notes to remember me.”

The words were simple, but the message hit hard. Who he had been, who he was, and who he wanted to be were completely different people. The last line where there was a small lily drawn and where she asked him to remember her was the one he read and reread… There were plenty of reasons to remember her. Some terrible, some good, but most of them were reasons that made him get out of bed every day.

Glancing at her over his shoulder, he gave in to his desires and stroked her cheek.

“Thank you!” As soon as she leaned on his touch, his body melted away.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Her face was close to his, and he felt her breath on his skin. “Go on. Open it.”

He hated the fact that he had to look away from her but turned once again to the box on his lap.

With both thumbs, he slowly lifted the lid. Inside he found a small notepad made of recycled paper and a silver fountain pen. Its design similar to the one in his arm.

Bucky traced his metal arm with his fingertips and was suddenly lost in thought, just to be brought back by her fingers lacing his.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” Lilly squeezed his hand. “I’m here.” Her words caressed his ear and cheeks.

Turning his eyes back to the box, he saw a small black fabric package.

He felt Lilly’s body press closer to him when he reached for it, and he noticed how she held her breath. Letting the content fall into his palm, his lips twitched into a shy smile.

His old dog tags brought all kinds of memories back, he was sure it had not been easy to find them. Straightening his spine, he threw the chain over his shoulder and felt the tags against his chest.

Lilly shuffled behind him, moving her body away from his, so he turned to her, resting his knee on the mattress.

“Do you like it?” Her head was tilted, and she worried her lip between her teeth.

Chuckling, he nodded at her.

“It took me a while, but I think it was worth it.” She reached for the tags and touched them. Her fingers lingering on his chest. “Here, let me show you something.”

She came close again and stopped near him. The proximity of their bodies sending goosebumps all over him. He had to look up to meet her gaze.

There, in between the tags, was a small phoenix pendant.

“The phoenix that rises from its own ashes. A new opportunity to do better. To be better.” She gazed up to his eyes. “Every new day is a new chance, Bucky. Don’t let it go to waste.”

There was a moment of silence in the room, so Bucky took the opportunity to watch her every move.

“It is made of vibranium. I’m sure you know about it.” He could only nod because she looked at him, and he saw her eyes traveling on his face.

“I believe in you, and not only that…” With a feather-light touch, she tucked his hair behind his ears. “I can say now, from deep inside my heart and soul. With all the certainty in the world.” One hand fell to his chest and stopped near his heart. The fingers of the one that remained on his face traced his jaw and tilted his chin up. Her voice a whisper lacing him in hope. “I trust you.”

At the end of her words, Lilly bent down and kissed his forehead. Her soft lips lingering on his skin, making his heart skip a beat, and his soul fill with happiness.

When she parted from him, he silently cursed everything and desperately mourned the loss of contact. When her eyes met his again, he knew he would do anything to protect her, to be with her. If only she accepted him.

And although he wanted to say something, she stood up from her place and walked out of the room, leaving him there speechless and alone.

He threw his body back onto the mattress and smiled to himself. His metal fingers playing with the small phoenix and his flesh ones tracing the skin she had just kissed.

I hope you liked.

Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!

Next chapter

[dragonlily88]

Your Love Gives Me Strength - Pacifica Northwest/Mabel Pines (Commission)

(This was my very first writing commission. It took me way longer then I would have liked... thank you so much @wombatking for commissioning me and being so patient. Story down below)

“Mabel… are you sure you want to do this?”

 “Yes, Dipper.” Mabel narrowed her brown eyes at her brother, a serious look in them that was rare to see in them. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.”

 Rolling his eyes, Dipper picked up the bottle of bright green nail polish. “Man, what shade of green is this? Radioactive snot?”

 Laughing, she watched the slow and careful strokes of the brush on her nails. “I think it’s actually called electric lime or something like that. I see you painted your own nails for this.”

 Taking a quick glance at his own nails before returning to the task at hand, Dipper’s cheeks took on a light pink tint. “Y-Yeah… black and gold are his favorite colors so…”

 “Oh, I see. Your super smart and totally hot boyfriend convinced you to let him paint them, didn’t he?”

 “N-No!”

 “...You feel for the puppy dog eyes.”

 “I feel for the puppy dog eyes.”  Sighing, his lips curled into a small smile at the memory. “He said that my nails were a blank canvas for him to express himself on.”

 “I bet that’s not the only thing about you that he compared to a canvas.” Wiggling her eyebrows, She laughed as her brother’s face turned a shade of red that would put a tomato to shame.

 “Mabel!”

 “Speaking of your rather attractive college artist boyfriend, where is he now? Still studying in Tokyo?”

 “Rome, actually. He’s thinking about staying there until he finishes school.”

 “I’m still surprised mom and dad let you date him.” Mabel didn’t hear anything he said after that as she focused on the date on the calendar. Today she was going to be going to a Pride Parade with her brother and girlfriend. She was so excited but also…  scared. So many bad things could happen. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe… maybe she should just stay home.

 “Mabel? Hello! Earth to Mabel!” Waving his hand in front of her face, Dipper made a face at the far off look in his sister’s eyes. “Are you in there? Mabel!”

 “Wha! Dipper, don’t scare me like that!” If she were still able to move her legs, Mabel was almost certain that Dipper would be wearing that bottle of nail polish.

 “You’re the one staring off into space… are you okay? You haven’t done that in a while.”

 “What are you talking about? I did that just last week when we were video chatting.”

 “Yeah, but when you finally snapped out of it you yelled, and I quote, “Not the kittens! Take me instead!” then proceeded to yell for Pacifica to bring you your teddy bear.”

 “His name is Captain Rehpic and he’s my second in command.”

 “Mabel, I’m serious. Are you okay?”

  Was  she okay? If she were being honest, no. She was a complete anxiety-filled, scared mess. Not that she would admit that so easily. That’d be like admitting defeat and that was something Mabel only did begrudgingly. So, she did the only thing she could think of at times like this. Put on a brave face and pretend that everything was fine. 

 “Dipper, I’m okay.”

 He knew that smile. Knew it all too well. Mabel was fighting a battle he’d never understand. This meant that no matter how much he wanted to help, he just couldn’t be what she needed to win at this moment. He’d let it go, for now. However, this will not stop him from worrying or passing on the information. If he knew Mabel - and oh lord, did he know his sister like the back of his eyelids - she’d seek out help when she really needed it. All he could do was silently offer his help and be there, waiting.

 “Alright. I trust you. Just know that if you ever need my help or to talk you can always count on me.”

 “I know… thank you.”

 “Mabel!”

 “Oh joy. Your rich, pretty, and sassy girlfriend is here.”

 “I bet she would get along with your boyfriend. They seem to have a lot in common.”

 “Whatever. I’m gonna grab a soda while we wait for your nails to dry. You should start thinking about where you want to get lunch on the way to the parade.”

 “Righty-o boss man!” As soon as the door was closed behind him, Mabel lost her smile. She could do this. Though, what she heard on the other side of the door was not helping her feel confident. 

 “You’ll never guess what I got for your…” Pacifica trailed off when she saw Dipper standing outside of the bedroom, leaning on the closed door. He had his arms crossed and a serious face. The last time he had looked at her like that was when she and Mabel had started dating. “What did I do this time?”

 “Nothing. But, we still need to talk.”

 ~*~

 “There. All set.” Taking a step back from her girlfriend, Pacifica smiled at her work. “Purple is definitely your color. Also, you were right about the skirt. Shorts just wouldn’t go with the outfit.”

 “Does that mean I’m the new fashion queen?”

 “I thought your fans answered that question for you long ago.” As they laughed together, Pacifica pulled out her own outfit for the parade. “Do you like it? I made it myself.”

 “Uh, I love it! What a dumb question. You work that ombre, girl.” Watching her start to strip out of her current outfit, Mabel let out a low whistle. “It must be my lucky day.”

 Placing her hands on her hips, Pacifica gave her an amused smile. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. Not to mention, I just stripped you not even five minutes ago.”

 “Does this mean you like me?”

 “Something like that.” Giggling, Pacifica finished getting ready. “Do you know where you want to eat yet?”

 “That cute little cafe near the park that takes in stray cats?”

 “You want to go to  Catfeine? Why am I not surprised? Though… it is a rather adorable place with really good food.”

 “Yay! Caffeine, kitties, and pastries!” 

 A loud groan and dull thud that the girls could only guess was Dipper smacking his head on something came from the hall. “She doesn’t need any more caffeine and sugar, you crazy woman!”

 “Let’s get going before your brother overrules you.”

 ~*~

 “Mabel, do reasonable. You do not need all of those-”

 “Silence! I have spoken! Give me more!”

 Sighing, Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was to be stared at by strangers in a cat-themed cafe while his sister yelled at him about stickers. “You have a problem.”

 “YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!”

 “You’re gonna get us kicked out if you keep yelling.” Taking another look at his sister’s wheelchair that could now pass as a float, Dipper fixed Pacifica with an annoyed look. “I blame you.”

 “What? All I’m doing is making my girlfriend feel beautiful and happy.”

 “You’re feeding her sticker and glitter addiction.”

 “Which makes her happy. Honestly, it’s not the worst thing she could be addicted to.” Tying the last sparkling ribbon to the chair, Pacifica took her seat at their table. “What do you think?”

 “I think that I have the best girlfriend ever. Dipper would never cover me in glitter.”

 “It gets everywhere! Last time I helped you with doing glitter eyeshadow it somehow ended up on me and I kept finding it the weirdest places.” 

 “Where was the weirdest place?”

 “...You don’t wanna know.”

 The three laughed as their food - or in Mabel’s case, dessert - was set down in front of them. The conversation kept going between the two as Mabel just silently stared at her food, almost as if trying to will the spoon into her mouth.

 “Uh… Mabel-”

 “No. I got this.”

 Sharing a look with Dipper, Pacifica reached over towards Mabel’s spoon. “Sweetie, let me-”

 “No! I can… I can… I can’t do this anymore! I’m tired of being completely useless! I mean… I’m not able to do anything on my own. I need help doing everything! Do you have any idea what this feels like? To not be able to do even the simplest of things?”

 “Mabel… why didn’t you talk to us about this sooner instead of just locking how you felt away?”

 Looking down at her lap, Mabel couldn’t find it in her to look either of them in the eye. “Because I thought I could handle it. I figured that maybe if I can’t take care of myself anymore, I could at the very least handle my own thoughts and feelings for once.”

  “I learned very quickly after that, that I didn’t have to do it alone. No matter how stubborn I can get. Going through something is hard for everyone physically, mentally, and emotionally… I don’t know how I got so lucky to have the people that I do in my life. After a much-needed cry and group cuddle session, along with dessert, we were off to have a great time at pride.”

 “Miss. Mabel?” A kid rolled up to the group in a wheelchair with their mother. They looked nervous, holding a picture that Mabel quickly recognized.

 “That’s the limited print we did for the blog!” The picture was of her, Pacafic, and Dipper in some wacky design she had dared them to wear with her for April Fools.

  “Turns out that they were a huge fan of my blog and that I had inspired them to chase their own dream of being a professional athlete.”  Pacafic held up a picture of two taken at the parade, the kid beaming.  “Their name is Alex and they were in a horrible car accident that left them paralyzed from the waist down. Seems they were going through the same problems as I was, not talking about how they felt or asking for help. But they’re seeing a therapist to help… actually, I am now too, thanks to Alex.”

  “We still see the little slugger from time to time either for collaborative videos or when we get invited to their games.”

  “Yeah! Man, can that kid play some mean baseball!” A loud thud came from upstairs, causing the girls to sigh in annoyance. 

  “Dipper! Tell your boyfriend to calm down and keep it in his pants for just a couple of seconds so we can finish the video!”

Laughing as she left the room, Mabel continued.  “Long story short... I learned a lot these past few weeks. I never knew that I would miss being able to do small things like change my own clothes or feed myself until I wasn’t able to anymore. But, on the bright side, I get to take baths with my beautiful girlfriend whenever I need one. I have such wonderful, caring people who love and support me in any way they can… and you guys do too! If you’re facing a battle make sure you don’t fight by yourself. I’m sure there’s an army, no matter how small, waiting in the wings to fight alongside you. You can get through things together. Stay beautiful and true to yourself. Mabel, signing out.”

[ofcelesticls]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   —  𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑰

tw: mental illness

they ask you what you want to be when you grow up and your answer is always the same. 

‘ A STAR, ’  you say. ‘ i want to be A STAR. ’

but you don’t mean the kind who appears pirouetting across a stage on her toes, the kind whose face covers the magazines that flood the grocery store checkout aisles. that’s your sister, not you. you don’t want to be immortalized on the silver screen. 

you want to be immortalized in the maps of the night sky on atlas pages. you want to be a STAR, bright and untouchable and magical. you want to guide wanderers back home, you want to grant the wishes of every child who turns to you for solace, you want to be CELESTIAL. 

and a star you become, but not in the way you had always dreamed. you do not emulate the beauty that lights up the night sky, you emulate their destruction. the way that they burn. the millions of miles between you and anyone who devotes a fleeting moment of their time to look upon you. the way that anyone who gets too close to you will be burnt alive. they look at you and they think you are shining, but nobody remembers that the time when a star shines the brightest is when it’s COLLAPSING. 

and you’ve been collapsing for so long, perched precariously on the edge of contracting with the weight of the gravity upon you as the fire inside of you dies out and your heart cools.

it begins like this:

you’re only FIVE years old. your only concerns should be fleeting, few, and far-between. you should be worried about if your mom packed carrots or celery in your lunch box, if you’ll get a turn with the play-dough at centers or if you’ll get stuck playing with the plastic bugs again, if you’ll be able to sneak onto the bus in your favorite polka-spot rainboots despite the fact that it's been dry for weeks. 

but life isn’t always fair, you learned that so very early on. back when chubby, sticky fingers still tried to grab stars out of the twinkling night sky — or tried to grab onto your father’s hand as you begged him to ‘ please, don’t make grandma go away. she’s LONELY there. i’ll take my bath, no whining, and go to bed early. i PROMISE. ’

instead, you spend your earliest years worrying about how many times your teacher will try to ask you a question today and how long it will take her to exchange her words for a sad smile of giving up, about the way your sister must feel when boys and girls on the playground ask her why her sister doesn’t talk, about the way you can hear your parents talking about you late at night if you poke your head out of your bedroom door when you can’t sleep, about the way they look so tired when they park the car in front of a new therapist’s office — your third one this month — and ask you to ‘ give this one a chance, kiera. please. ’

instead of receiving stickers for remembering your alphabet perfectly or knowing that one plus one equals two, you receive your first diagnosis, branded into your skin with a burning iron.

𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄. 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌.

you’re six years old when you first realize that they think you’re STUPID. 

it’s first grade when your new teacher tells you that, from now on, you’ll go spend part of the afternoon with a different teacher, in a different room. she says it’s only until you learn how to talk, and that’s when you realize that they don’t think you’re smart enough to stay in class with the rest of the kids. you don’t think it’s FAIR, because you are smart enough, YOU ARE, and you have to miss social studies, which is your FAVORITE. 

but your new teacher isn’t as nice as your kindergarten teacher was. she gives up on trying to ask you how your day is going a couple weeks into the school year. she doesn’t let you sit near her desk during work time in case there was something you want to show her. and she thinks that the reason you don’t talk is because you don’t know how. so, instead of telling her that you don’t think it’s fair, you just nod and look down at the ground.

you tell your parents that you don’t like your new classroom. it’s too small, too stuffy. and it’s just YOU in there with your new teacher, all alone, with nothing to hide behind. 

your parents don’t tell you that you can go back to your regular classroom, like you want them to. instead, they tell your therapist, in pretty, sugar-coated words that they aren’t so sure this new treatment plan is working. 

your therapist promises you that you’re not any less intelligent than the rest of your classmates — ‘ you’re just DIFFERENT, that’s all, ’ she says, her hand on your shoulder in a way that you know is supposed to be nice, but just makes you feel ITCHY. 

and that’s when you realize that SHE thinks you’re stupid, too. 

when you get home, you tell your parents that you don’t want to go see her anymore with hot, pin-prick tears stuck in your eyelashes. they look at each other, again, in the way that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes burn, but the next week they park the car in front of a new office building. and so, the cycle begins again.

this time, it brings with it your first ever prescription. 

𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍. 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. 𝐏𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐋, 𝟏𝟎 𝐌𝐆.

your new doctor is different than the others. she doesn’t talk to you as much. she spends most of her time scribbling down notes on a piece of paper, nodding along as your parents speak for you. she says that she doesn’t like to give medications to children, but she does anyway, for you. 

‘ two years of therapy without progress is CONCERNING, ’ she says, peering at you over the rim of her glasses in a way that makes you feel just as nervous as the idea of opening your mouth and talking does. ‘ i think it’s in your best interest to consider alternative treatment. ’

that’s how you end up with a brand new addition to your breakfast plate. a tiny, yellow pill. 

two weeks later, you make your first friend. but, still, you DON’T SPEAK. the progress isn’t enough.

𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍. 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. 𝐀𝐃𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒, 𝟐𝟎 𝐌𝐆.

your one friend becomes two, with nothing but a handshake from a boy with a nice smile and skin the same color as your own. 

still, you DON’T SPEAK. you’re on the right path, they say, but you need to move faster.

𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍. 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. 𝐀𝐃𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒, 𝟑𝟎 𝐌𝐆.

then the world starts moving TOO fast, and everything hits you all at once.

you wake up every morning with your head pounding. when you try to tell your parents, they think you’re just trying to get out of going to school. you can’t blame them, you usually DO try and get out of school. everything makes you more nervous than it did before — the sound of your gym teacher’s whistle, the rush of children racing out past you to get to the playground, the way everyone’s voices overlap in the cafeteria. you’re never hungry anymore. once, you leave class to go to the bathroom and end up stuck outside for eight minutes because you SWEAR your class was out at recess and not in the classroom.

how did you forget that ?

most days, you come home crying, but that isn’t anything new. it isn’t until you come home SCREAMING — sobbing, shaking, scratching at the skin of your arms as your mother holds you, tight, in the kitchen while your father is on the phone — that you finally stop having to take the terrible, horrible medicine that makes you feel this way.

your parents take you to a new doctor a few weeks later, and there’s a new bottle of medicine with your name on it not long after.

𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐂, 𝟏𝟎 𝐌𝐆.

for a while, things are better. they’re so much better.

you finally start to speak. first to your friends. then to the nurse, whose office you have to check-in at every day after lunch, to make sure you’re feeling okay. then to your second grade teacher, who is much gentler than your teacher from the year before and ALWAYS lets you sit by your friends. 

your therapist asks you how you’d feel about writing notes to people that you’re not sure if you’re ready to talk to. you know exactly who you want to write them to, and on the way home from your appointment you ask your mom if you can get your own, special paper and pens. the smile on her face is so pretty, you feel like you’ve finally done something RIGHT. 

it only took you eight years.

you pick out the bright colored stationery papers that have kittens on the borders — because you know that daisey rutherford already has the ones with dogs, and your ears burn at the idea of her thinking that you’re trying to copy her — and gel pens with little flecks of glitter swirled inside of the ink that make it look like shooting stars are frozen in time on your paper when you write with them.

that night, you write your first letter to daisey. three failed drafts end up, crumbled, in your waste bin before you’re finally satisfied with the result. you fold it twice, seal it with a puffy sticker in the shape of an ice cream cone adorned with a smiley face, and stick it in her cubby the next day when she isn’t looking.

to your surprise, the morning after, there’s a note waiting for you on your desk, written on daisey’s hot pink, puppy dog paper. she dots her i’s with hearts and calls you KIKI. 

the nickname sticks. 

you start to talk to her, too, but you still write notes back and forth. just because.

you’re riding high for a few, good years. and then every wall you worked so hard to build up, each stone you took painstaking hours to secure into place, comes crumbling down all around you the summer before high school starts. 

when you finally manage to drag yourself out of the rubble and wipe the dust off your brow, the only company you have is another new diagnosis and a new orange bottle with your name stamped on it.

𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍. 𝐁𝐈𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐕𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐑, 𝟑 𝐌𝐆.

bipolar ii, you learn, is easily confused with major depressive order, which is treated with the kinds of medications you’ve been taking for years. the mania, they say, doesn’t ever swing quite as high as other bipolar disorders do. it’s a thinly veiled way of reminding you that you’re too SAD. it’s a harder disorder to catch.

‘ usually we look for medical history in immediate family members, ’ the doctors explain, polite smiles painted onto polite faces, ‘ but, given the conditions... ’

there’s no use in trying to skirt around the point with you when it comes to your family history. or, rather, your lack thereof. and, yet, something about doctors and their innate ability to always sound so professional means that they never say what they really mean.

that being, ‘ you were left at the FIRE STATION. safe haven law. your birth mother is nothing but a JANE DOE, we have no way of knowing what your medical history entails. ’

but, after seven long years spent in the company of various medical professionals, they don’t need to say it outright for you to know exactly what they mean.

finally, FINALLY, having the right diagnosis to explain the constant brewing chaos in your mind and the right medication to help create gentle waters out of your internal, stormy seas SHOULD mean that things are good again. 

it doesn’t. 

they aren’t.

[lazymysteries-blog]

The Laci Peterson Case: Did Her Husband Really Do It?

Laci Peterson

Laci Denise Peterson was born on May 4, 1975, in Modesto, California to parents, Sharon and Dennis Robert Rocha. She had an older brother named, Brent Rocha and a half-sister named, Amy Woodward. Laci’s parents divorced when she was very young and both parents eventually got remarried. As a child, Laci loved working on the dairy farm that her family owned and gardening with her mother. That love for the outdoors and plants would influence her later in life.

Laci graduated from Thomas Downey High school where she was a cheerleader before attending California Polytechnic State University where she majored in Ornamental Horticulture. It was during her college years in 1994 that Laci would meet her future husband, Scott Peterson. They met at a cafe her friend worked at and they immediately hit it off. In 1997 they got married and three years later in October 2000, they purchased a house in Laci’s home town Modesto, California. During this time Scott was working at a European fertilizer company and Laci was working part-time as a substitute teacher while dedicating the rest of her time to being a “perfect” housewife according to her mother and half-sister. In 2002 Laci became pregnant with their first child. They were expecting a baby boy on February 16, 2003, who they planned to name Conner. 

The Disappearance of Laci Peterson

December 24, 2002, started as a normal day for the Petersons. Laci was watching cooking shows, preparing to mop the floor, and getting her home ready for Christmas the next day. At 9:30 am Scott left his home to go fishing at the Berkeley Marina. Laci Peterson was never seen alive again. At least that’s what Scott Peterson claims. Can we really trust him though? Well, let’s see… Other than Scott the last two people who had spoken to Laci were her mother, Sharon and her half-sister, Amy. On December 23 both Laci and Scott went to a hair salon that Amy worked at to get Scott’s monthly hair cut and that night around 8:30 pm Laci spoke on the phone with her mother. They had no idea that that would be the last time they would speak to Laci again. 

At 2:15 pm on the 24th Scott sent a message to his wife saying, “Hey, beautiful. It’s 2:15. I’m leaving Berkely.” When Scott returned home he saw that his wife’s 1996 Land Rover was parked in the driveway and he made his way into their home. Upon entering the house he noticed that his wife was not home but it didn’t worry him too much, he assumed that she was with her mother. Scott told the police that once he got home he took a shower and washed his clothes because they were wet from fishing. Multiple news outlets including the New York Post and The Modesto Bee report that Ron Grantski, Laci’s stepfather, reported her missing after Scott had called Laci’s mother at 5:15 pm when Laci still had not returned home. However, ABC News reports that Scott was the first person to report Laci as a missing person from their Modesto home. 

When police arrived at the scene and began searching the home they found Laci’s sunglasses, keys, and wallet in her purse in a closet. The dinner table was set for the following night and one of the detectives on the case found a phone book opened to a defense lawyer. During the search, police noticed Scott’s extremely calm demeanor. That night the two lead detectives questioned Scott. Originally Scott said that he had gone golfing that day but then later backtracked and stated that he had gone to the Berkely Marina. The police force immediately launched a search for Laci Peterson. Within the first two days of Laci’s disappearance, before any huge media coverage, there had already been 900 people involved in the search for her. After nationwide coverage of the case, that number almost doubled in size to over 1,500 people searching for Laci. A reward of $25,000 was offered to anyone with info on Laci’s disappearance but that price would end up gradually increasing to $500,000.

The Murder of Laci Peterson

On April 13, 2003, a couple who were out walking their dog found the body of a late-term fetus at the San Fransisco Bay shore in Richmond’s Point Isabel Regional Shoreline Park. The umbilical cord of the corpse was still attached to its body and it had been torn instead of cut or clamped. Nylon tape was around the neck of the fetus and there was a large cut on the fetus’ body. Just one day later the body of a previously pregnant woman was found washed up on the eastern rocky shoreline one mile away from where the fetus was found by someone passing by. The body was so decomposed that it was unrecognizable. She was decapitated and her limbs were missing. The forensic pathologist determined through DNA testing that the bodies were, in fact, Laci and Conner Peterson. The forensic pathologist claimed that he couldn’t determine how Laci or Conner died or whether or not the fetus had been born alive or dead but then went on to contradict himself in court when he said, “It was her death that caused Conners while he was in the uterus.”

The conviction of Scott Peterson in the murder of Laci and Conner Peterson

On January 17, 2003, it was publicized that Scott had been having an extramarital affair with a massage therapist named, Amber Frey. The affair had begun about mid-November and allegedly Scott had told Frey that he was a widower about two weeks before the disappearance of his wife. Shortly after Frey found out about Scott’s involvement in the disappearance of Laci Peterson she contacted the police and agreed to assist the police by secretly recording their phone conversations. According to Frey Scott had told her that he was celebrating the New Years’ Eve in Paris but later admitted that he had been in Modesto searching for his missing wife. At this point, the public, Laci’s family, and the police force were extremely suspicious of Scott Peterson. 

On April 18, 2003, Scott was arrested near La Jolla golf course. He claimed to be meeting his brother and father for a game of golf. However, his car was filled with random things including $15,000 in cash, 12 viagra pills, survival gear, camping equipment, several changes of clothes, four cellphones, and two driver licenses. One was his and the other was his brothers. In addition to all of that his naturally brown hair was dyed blond. Scott and his family insisted that his car was in the condition that it was in because he had been living out of it in an attempt to avoid the press and his hair was dyed blond for the same reasons. According to Scott and his family, the police failed to mention that Scott had actually spoken to the police while his hair was dyed blonde.

On April 21, 2003, Scott was charged and pled not guilty to, two felony counts of murder with premeditation and special circumstances. Judge Al Girolami of Stanislaus County Superior Court moved his trial to San Mateo County because of the Bias of the people against Scott Peterson in Stanislaus County. Scott’s trial began on June 1, 2004, and on November 12, 2004, he was convicted of first-degree murder in the death of Laci Peterson and second-degree murder in the death of his unborn son Conner. He was sentenced to death but his order is postponed along with 737 death row prisoners in California for the duration of Gov. Gavin Newson’s tenure.

My Thoughts

Before I started doing my own research on this case I felt that there was a huge possibility that Scott was innocent, however, as I continued my search for answers I realized that the chances of him being innocent were a lot slimmer than I had originally thought. At this point, I can genuinely say that I have no idea whether or not he committed this crime but I do know one thing. If he isn’t guilty he is most definitely the world’s unluckiest man. Either that or karma really had a chip on its shoulder for Scott Peterson. 

On one hand, I can’t help but notice that it seemed like from the start that the entire world hated him. Unfortunately, that hatred, no doubt, influenced Scott’s conviction. The fact of the matter is there is little to no physical evidence against Scott Peterson. The only physical evidence there was, in this case, was a single strand of Laci Peterson’s hair found in a pair of pliers in Scott’s boat. The rest of the “evidence” against Scott was purely demeanor driven. Which under normal circumstances just wouldn’t have been enough for someone to be convicted of a crime of this caliber. In addition to all of that, the way the investigation was conducted was so shady to me. The defense team performed a test to see if a 150-pound human can be thrown over a small boat and they determined that it could not be done. The court refused to conduct the test in trial claiming that it would be too dangerous to test which literally proves that they knew it couldn’t be done. The fact that they never even attempted to take this evidence into account just shows how unfair the trail was. In addition to that, the police failed to investigate a break-in that happened across the street from the Peterson’s house the day of Laci’s disappearance. Why not investigate something like that? Why not explore all avenues? This is not justice. This investigation was not conducted with Laci’s best interest at heart. Justice would have been investigating until the person convicted was absolutely guilty of the crime.

On the other hand, Scott’s demeanor is… to say the least creepy. On more than one occasion he has incriminated himself. Besides, the affair and the possible attempted getaway he has refused a polygraph test and acted suspiciously during interviews, most notably,  in an interview with Diane Sawyer on ABC’s Good Morning America Scott referred to his wife in the past tense before her body was found saying, “She was amazing.” These things and many others have me asking myself why an innocent man would continuously do and say things that mirror the actions of someone who is guilty. 

My final word is that I hope that Scott Peterson can have a retrial. Not for him but for Laci. I just can’t help but feel like so many questions about her murder have gone unanswered. That is just not fair to Laci or her family. What are your thoughts? Do you believe that Scott Peterson did it? Or do you think that it was someone else? Discuss your thoughts in the comment section. 

 Until next time, bye.

SOURCES

https://time.com/3461244/gone-girl-scott-peterson/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/blind-injustice/201801/is-scott-peterson-innocent-part-one

https://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/70rkn6/could_scott_peterson_be_innocent/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_Laci_Peterson

https://www.eonline.com/uk/news/901220/secrets-lies-sadness-laci-peterson-s-murder-is-long-solved-but-here-s-why-the-case-won-t-rest

https://members.huntakiller.com/blog-articles/2017/8/16/new-docuseries-questions-scott-petersons-guilt

http://www.statementanalysis.com/scott-peterson/

https://www.bustle.com/articles/160363-what-happened-to-amber-frey-scott-petersons-girlfriend-shes-trying-to-put-the-case-behind-her

[locke-writes]

In Other Words

Author: locke-writes

Title: In Other Words

Prompt: Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra, “Would you give me the pleasure of this dance?” x Bucky Barnes. For: @becaamm ‘s Valentine’s Challenge

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,047

When Steve Rogers was pulled from the ice you were the first person Nick Fury called. It had been his idea to set Steve up in the hospital room that mirrored the 40's but he wanted it only to be used as a test. No one was certain as to how Steve would react when he woke up in the new millennium. Would it be with rage or with reluctant acceptance, no one could truly have predicted any outcome. 

He had been frozen for many years, missed so much. Friends, family, anyone he'd ever known was perhaps dead or if they were still alive they were quite old. It was a lot for anyone to take in at once and he needed someone to guide him along, someone who could get him up to date with everything he had missed yet at the same time sympathize with him about everything he'd lost.

You weren't called in because you were an expert on time travel which would help with explaining the drastic time change, because you weren't an expert. You weren't called in because you had a degree in history, because that degree did not exist. You were called simply because you had an old soul. It had somewhat been inherited through your family, the love of old films and of old music. You lived in the present and loved the things of the past, Fury hoped that this would allow you to connect with Steve, provide some common ground, helping with the adjustment process.

Steve was a quick learner. Due to his being frozen it was like sleeping and waking up years in future, his brain hadn't deteriorated but was preserved. He knew events of his childhood like they happened yesterday but the gap came when he couldn't recall anything about the years after going under the ice. Pop culture stayed on the back burner for a while, history stood front and center. Updating Steve on the missing gaps was more important you thought then teaching him about the top grossing films of the 50's. You told him that he should make a list of things pop culture related to look into and gave him some starting points. 

Your work with Steve led to a strong friendship. Coulson knew everything about Steve which could be intimidating, you knew everything about the time Steve grew up in which provided a sense of calm. Steve knew that you weren't actually alive then but he felt that you were with the way you could talk about the movies he'd go see as a kid or the music he'd listen to on the radio. Even the way you asked him questions about his favorite baseball players made him feel less like a man out of time.

All this was the number one reason why you were the first person called when Bucky had been found. 

Bucky had been a more complex case. He had no memories of anything after the jump off the train. That was the last memory and the next was meeting Steve on the bridge. You knew when he had been brought in that there was going to be a lot of trauma to work through. And so that became your priority. Steve had been stuck in ice for years, that's all he'd been doing. History was the only real thing that mattered when it came to what to teach Steve. When it came to Bucky, history was important but making sure that healed from constant brainwashing was more important to you.

Working with Bucky took longer than it took with Steve. You'd called in favors from friends outside of SHIELD, forced them to sign confidentiality waivers and then briefed them on Bucky's condition. While Bucky wasn't exactly pleased by what you were requiring of him, he grew to understand and appreciate every bit of effort you put in to healing him all around. Reluctantly he began attending appointments regularly. Seeing doctors to determine what could be done about his arm, removing the mark of HYDRA control that was ever present and following him, and replacing it with another prosthetic. He'd started seeing a therapist, at first three times a week but then dropping to two when it was deemed that he had made tremendous progress.

Bucky was different when it came to teaching. Steve wanted to go alongside it with you, to be walked through and talked through with it. He'd missed so much he wanted to be guided as though he might misstep. Bucky wanted to be instructed, to be given something and left alone with it to think, to process at his own pace. He wanted to be handed books and given time to read. He wanted to understand technology for faster access of information and to be able to contact you with any possible questions that he had. It wasn't so much the knowledge and history portion of his life he needed help with. That part of his life was easy for him to pick up, he was an intelligent man, always had been you would learn, but he needed someone to be there to help decipher, to decode the given information.

It was the healing portion of his life that he needed greater help with. It was the healing portion of his life that led him to accept the help of your friends. And while it was easy for him to process the missing gaps of time in his memory by filling them in with what he'd gleamed from books it was harder to process the memories that were coming forth from his time with HYDRA.

That would take longer to heal from but he'd go about it in his own way with help and guidance. New understanding of mental health, of medicine, would greatly benefit him. He'd improve with time and he'd have more faith in himself. He'd have more ways of coping, of understanding what had happened to him and what he'd done.

The change in Bucky was gradual but it pleased you to watch.

He'd recently been approved to get a support dog. A German Shepard named Charlie that was specifically trained to deal with symptoms of PTSD. He was making incredible progress and you felt that now with his life coming together in terms of recovering from HYDRA control that it was time for you to step away. At least this is what you were planning on telling Steve.

You anticipated Steve's protest, you just weren't ready to admit the true reason for your stepping back to anyone but yourself. Yet Steve would understand, you knew and believed he'd have to understand to agree with you. Confessing to him what you'd only confessed to yourself was the only way you could think to go about it.

"It's been eleven months, he's in therapy, he's adjusting to his new arm and to having Charlie. I think he'll be fine on his own."

"He needs you" Steve protested.

You shook your head, "I don't know if that's true but either way I can't stay Steve. I have to go."

"Can't? Why 'can't"

You think Steve knew the answer in that moment. You were sure he knew what you were trying to say. You also knew that he wouldn't accept it if it wasn't proven true. Assumptions were fine but confirmations were great.

"I like him Steve. I like him a lot. Whether what I feel for him is love I don't know, I've never been in love. But I have feelings for him, strong feelings. Being around him. That's something that I want, I'll always want. I just can't be around him while helping him heal. I'm afraid my feelings will get in the way of any real progress that he still has left to make"

"I think I'm beginning to understand. I can't blame you for wanting to step away then if these feelings might get in the way. Don't worry about it, I can tell him. I'll figure something out with Sam. Going to the VA meetings has been helping me I'll see if Sam knows some people near Bucky's apartment"

"Thanks Steve. I owe you one. Really I do"

The next meeting you had with Bucky was a week after you had talked to Steve. You sat at the table where the two of you usually met waiting for him to show. Or rather hoping that Steve had talked to him and that he wouldn't show. Checking the clock you watched the hand tick the last few minutes away before hearing the chair beside you scooting across the floor. Turning you saw that Bucky was, as usual, on time. What was unusual was the lack of books he'd brought with him.

"Steve talked to me." He let the words slip out into the air.

"About what?" You questioned, hoping that what was spoken wasn't every word you had said.

Bucky smiled but you knew that he was nervous. You'd been around him long enough to be able to tell the signs as they appeared on his face.

"Do you want to go to dinner?"

"What?"

"Dinner? Unless that's not something people do for dates anymore. Not that this would be a date I mean. It could be though. If you wanted it to be."

"I take it that Steve really did tell you everything."

"He did. I would have liked to hear it from you but if I were in your shoes I probably would have done the same. If it's any consolation I like you too. And I too have no idea if what I feel for you is love."

"Dinner huh?" You questioned, a small smile on your face.

"If you're up for it."

You grabbed his hand and squeezed, "You know, I think I am up for it"

Some days you still look back on that first date. It felt like you'd only just met but at the same time it felt like you'd known one another forever. Whatever you had felt for one another only grew deeper during that first date. It continued to grow with every story Bucky told of his childhood and every antidote you had from your own. 

It continued to grow as slowly the two of you found you had more in common than originally thought. It continued to grow after Bucky asked to take a walk in the park, reaching for your hand around the first lap. It grew when you sat on one of the park benches and laid your head on his shoulder. It grew and it grew and it grew.

That would be the first date but it wouldn't be your last. Not by a long shot.

You'd continue going on dates at least once a week, mainly because that was as much time as you could stand to be without seeing one another. Bucky agreed that once you started dating you shouldn't continue to be his teacher, it wasn't weird or anything it was just distracting when he found himself kissing you in the midst of discussing the changing American economy. He began attending VA meetings with Steve and Sam instead, finding it helpful to talk to other soldiers about what he'd been through.

Six months into your relationship came the first I love you. 

One year into the relationship came renting an apartment together. It was halfway between the Avengers base and SHIELD headquarters. Dog friendly and close to public transportation if you needed to get farther out. 

It was an adjustment living together but a good adjustment. Getting a place together felt more like the two of you having a home rather than living in the others home had Bucky moved to your apartment or you moved to Bucky's

One year in also marked the first time Bucky would go on a mission. 

It had taken time before Bucky had begun working with the Avengers. Steve had asked him to join but Bucky refused, saying that he wasn't ready. No one wanted to push Bucky into anything he didn't think he was ready for and so they waited. Bucky worked on the information side of things, he still wanted to help in some way, but working in the field wasn't something he wanted to take up just yet. 

It had taken one full year but finally Bucky felt like he would be ready to go out into the world. He feared many things in regard to that first mission, the main one was simply being recognized as the Winter Soldier. To everyone the Winter Soldier was a HYDRA agent, an image that was going to be hard to shake off. To those who had become close to him, Bucky was far from the man that had been under their control. 

Indeed some still associate the name of Winter Soldier with the HYDRA agent but after that mission the perception began to change.

For you it had taken only a few weeks to see this change. You'd come to care for him in only a few weeks, you'd come to love him in only a few months. You'd come to date him for a year, and in one more year, Bucky would see for himself the change that you insisted was in him.

Two years since you had first been asked out by Bucky, two years and he was finally coming to see himself in the same way that you had seen him. You could thank yourself for that change but really you owed it all to one little girl and Halloween.

At the time Bucky had been reluctant to do any media appearances or even any public appearances. His reputation and image had changed somewhat when it came to others but the fear was there. Some days you believed it always would be. Somehow he had managed to be roped in to handing out candy on Halloween with the rest of the team, yourself included. While it was a small way of giving back you knew it would mean a lot to the children and the parents who couldn't afford tickets to meet and greets at conventions often one Avenger was invited to.

She was maybe eight years old and she stood there before him stunned. For Bucky it was the first time he'd seen anyone at all dress up like him, for her it was the first time she'd seen anyone like her as a hero.

"We decorated my arm just like yours! Sometimes people say I can't do things because of my arm but I tell them that the Winter Soldier has one arm too and he can do anything!" She raised her prosthetic for him to see.

Bucky was speechless for a few moments before telling her that she was right, that having one arm just meant sometimes she might have to work harder but she could do everything she wanted. Bucky took a few pictures, signed a few things, and then practically dumped the entire candy bowl into the little girls bucket.

One year of missions, two years of dating, and one little girl with her Winter Soldier arm were all that it took for Bucky to slowly begin to accept himself. Time was always needed to convince oneself that they were more than what they were brainwashed to be.  

A few weeks.

A few months.

One year.

Two years.

Now.

Now here you were, a long way from when you had first met Bucky. Now here you were lying on the couch in your apartment waiting for him to come home. He'd texted you, something he was still getting the hang of, not to wait up. You never listened to him in this aspect, you were an agent, you knew what missions were like and the protocol of after. The mission with Steve had lasted a full week, far longer than had been anticipated. The debriefing at the base wouldn't take quite as long but it would still be a lengthy amount of time. 

You yawned once more, fighting off sleep. Bucky was set to be home at any minute according to what you assumed based on your own debriefings. Focusing on the music you'd put on and the book you were currently reading wasn't helping.

The opening of the door and the feeling of a weight being added on top of you let you know that Bucky and Charlie were home. Charlie had to undergo some training but he'd been accompanying Bucky on mission since day one. You scratched behind the dogs ears.

"How was the mission?" You questioned after Bucky kissed you.

"I guess it could have gone better but no one on either side was killed which is the only thing that matters most"

You nodded, sitting up slowly and stretching. 

Bucky turned his head to glance over at the record player, "I know that voice but, not the song."

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't. That's Sinatra's song Fly Me To The Moon. It didn't come out until after the train incident"

"Wait? Sinatra? As in Frank Sinatra? He had a career?"

"A long lasting one at that. Were you aware of him back then?"

"Not just aware of him, Steve and I saw him live once. Of course back then he was the new singer in a band that had just come to town but. Who knew he was going to be known for decades."

"I can't believe you never found out about his career, maybe Steve hasn't fully caught up on music after all. Remind me to make you a list of singers from back in the day that are still well known"

"I will. In the meantime, would you give me the pleasure of this dance?"

As the two of you swayed to the music you once again though back to all that Bucky had been through. Sometimes when you thought back you wished it had never happened to him, sometimes Bucky wished it too. But if that were the case then you would't be here dancing in your dimly lit apartment, your head on his shoulder. 

You whispered that you loved him and Bucky whispered it back.

It was moments such as these that made Bucky a truly grateful man.

[blackcoffeeandteardrops]

Precipice (1/7)

My s11 finale rewrite/rehash/rewhatever is (for the most part) done. Part 1 is below the cut, as well as over at AO3:

William’s feet pounded against the wet sidewalk, picking up speed with every step. He drew a deep breath, feeling the cold night air burn his lungs almost as much as the rain that felt like splinters against his face. In the dim light of the street lamp, he quickly turned his head, eyeing the two dark figures that were chasing him. He grabbed a trashcan, all but ripping it from the bolts that had secured it to the ground, tossing it in their direction. The move was intended as a distraction, a way to block their path, but he knew it cost him time.

He rounded the corner and picked up speed, not even caring at the moment who saw him or what they might think. A plastic bag from the corner store was still looped around one of his wrists, the handles slowly carving red welts into his skin. He’d braved the trip, had been holed up in an abandoned factory down by the docks for days, but he’d saved up enough money to rent a room for a few nights which meant a hot shower along with usage of the microwave in the lobby. Even as he ran, there was nothing that sounded quite as appealing as a hot meal, even if it was nothing more than a cup of ramen noodle soup.

The trip to the store had been uneventful, but about a block or two into the trip back to the motel, he noticed he was being followed. The men were casual enough about it that someone with less perception about such things might not have noticed. He intentionally took a wrong turn and even stopped to stare through a few shop windows just to be sure, but as soon as he picked up his pace they had as well, which led to an all out chase through several city blocks. He cut through a park, weaving in and out of the tree line. The thought occurred that he could easily vanish into the night, masquerade as a stranger in the street, but he knew somehow that wouldn’t work this time.

As he hopped the fence on the other side of the park, he briefly wondered how this had become his life. It was true that his childhood hadn’t exactly been easy, but just a few months ago he’d been living a nice enough life, sleeping in a comfortable house in well off neighborhood with parents who’d given everything they could to make his life as easy as possible. He darted into an alley, ducking behind a dumpster, and took a moment to collect himself. He’d done a good job the past few months to push his parents out of his head. The sight of their lifeless bodies sitting in pools of blood was not something he could forget. They’d been killed because of him, because of what he could do, he knew that. No amount of running or pretending to be someone else could ever make him forget it.

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms so tight against his lids that stars blurred his vision, and he thought of the other set of parents he’d been trying so hard to not remember. Not forget, he thought, so much as stay away from as long as he could. He wondered what they were doing now, if they were safe and protected away from the chaos being near him seemed to bring. Still, he thought of what the red haired woman--Dana, he now realized was her name--had said, crying over what she believed at the time to be his dead body. She loved him, had never forgotten about him, and she regretted giving him up. He hit his head against the brick wall behind him, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. Later on at the hospital she referred to him as Jackson, and so had the man he now knew to be his father. They’d called out to him, wanting to make sure he was safe, and rather than running to whatever help they might have been able to provide, he disguised himself and ran.

A gust of wind blew down the alley, cutting through the thin denim jacket he wore, and despite his meager attempt at shelter, he shivered. His stomach growled, the sound seemingly magnified in the sudden silence of the alley. He bit into a bag of M&Ms, dumping half of the candy in his mouth at once, knowing it wasn’t exactly the dinner he’d hoped for, but also knowing there was no way he could return to the motel now. The men who’d been tracking him likely already knew where he’d been hiding and even if they didn’t, they’d probably find a way to track him there. He ate the rest of the M&Ms, washing them down with half a can of the energy drink he purchased, knowing he had to get moving soon but also unsure of where to go.

The motel was out of the question, as was the factory he’d stayed at previously. William sighed, trying to remain calm. He tried the breathing exercises his therapist had suggested ages ago, wondering what she’d think if she knew not everything he’d been telling her about was in his head. There was only one choice that made sense, and he hoped nobody would end up regretting it. Dana had said they wanted to make sure he was okay, had all but pleaded to see him. While it wasn’t the best of circumstances, he quickly darted out of the alley, figuring now was as good a time as any. They were agents, so even if they didn’t deserve any of this, he figured they’d know a thing or two about keeping him safe.

He turned his head left and right, checking to make sure the coast was clear. It occurred to him that he didn’t exactly know where they lived, at least in any technical terms. He’d seen the house, the couch with the blanket draped across the top, and even the little dog that yipped at Mulder but cuddled as close to Dana as it could, but those images only came when he tried hard enough to see them. The faintest of smiles crossed his face, thinking he’d contact her as soon as he knew it was safe, and then he’d be able to see the house in person. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, but before he could turn to face his attacker, he felt an arm snake around his waist, fully cementing him in place.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the deep voice sounded, just as he’d tried kicking and pulling himself free.

“You won’t hurt me,” William replied, sounding far more brave than he felt. He felt the cold metal of what he knew to be a gun digging into his back, and he laughed. His insides bubbled with anxiety, but if he had any hopes of breaking free let alone surviving, he knew he had to bluff as long as he could. “That won’t work on me.”

“It would incapacitate you for a while though, wouldn’t it?” the man said, pulling William back into the darkness of the alley as a car passed by.

William wanted to scream, wanted to conjure the ghouli monster and destroy the man holding him, but before he could do so, the solid pressure of the gun was replaced by the sharp pain of a needle pricking his neck. “No,” he said, thrashing about. His breathing grew labored, his limbs became heavy, and within seconds, whatever fight he had left in him slowly began to ebb away. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not me, kid,” the man replied, half carrying and half pushing him out onto the sidewalk as another car slowly pulled against the curb. “Personally, I don’t fully understand what’s so special about you. But I was told to come get you, and I’m a man who does as he’s told.”

Another man emerged from the car and William watched, fighting back the fatigue he felt seeping into him, as the man opened the passenger side back door, beckoning them closer. “I told you not to hurt him. We were only supposed to use that in the event that he put up a fight.”

“Yeah, well, did you really expect him not to?” the man holding William said. He pushed him closer, even as William fought with whatever strength he had left.

“Considering who his father is, I guess that’s really not much of a surprise. It’s crazy,” the driver said, gripping William’s shoulder to still his actions. “You may not know him, but you do look a lot like him.”

“Are you going to keep waxing poetic, or are you going to help me get him into the car?”

The driver sighed, opening the back door further, and bracing for the way William kicked out as he leaned down to pick up his legs. “Get some rest,” he said as they shoved him in the back seat. “We’ll be there soon.”

William tried kicking out, tried channeling whatever monster face he could think of, but it was like something had dulled his senses somehow, making everything around him soft and muffled. He knew he’d been drugged, but he didn’t know with what. The last thing he saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was the sight of the driver’s eyes fixing him with a look of concern as he shut the car door.

The next thing he remembered was a gray ceiling looming above him. He sat up with a start, regretting his fast movements when his head started pounding. His mouth felt dry, coated in fuzz, and his throat was scratchy. When he blinked and adjusted his eyes to the dim lighting of the room, he saw he was sitting on a bed, albeit not a well made one. There was a dresser against one wall and a closet which was firmly closed. There was a window, but before he even got close, he knew there was no hope of escaping through it. The opening was far too small, and judging by the looks of it the glass was far too thick. The only hope he had was to get through the door, which he realized as he got closer was locked from the outside. The room was exactly that--more a room than a cell--but as he sat back down on the bed that creaked under his weight, William wondered not for the first time what he was doing there.

The door opened, slowly, and William watched as a small dark haired woman stepped inside. A tall man followed suit, carrying a tray of food, and it wasn’t until then that William realized he was hungry. He hadn’t had much, not counting the candy and the drink he’d guzzled the night before, although as the thought occurred to him, he realized he didn’t know how much time had passed.

“Put the tray on the nightstand, dear. He can eat when we’re done,” the woman said, clasping her hands in front of her. She tilted her head to the side, studying him curiously. “We’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, William. Or, as I understand it, you prefer to be called Jackson now? The name isn’t important, although I do genuinely want to make sure you’re comfortable. We’re all friends here, you see, and that means I want you to feel welcome.”

“If I’m so welcome, why did you have to have your men chase me and drug me?” William asked, pulling his knees to his chest. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to get as far away from her and the man who stood guard near the door as he could. “What do you want with me?”

The woman shook head head, holding a hand to her chest as if she’d been offended. “It’s not what we want with you, darling, but what we want for you. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot,” she said, holding out a hand and intending for him to shake it. When he didn’t make a move towards her, she narrowed her eyes and pulled her hand away. “You don’t know me yet, so I suppose that means you wouldn’t be comfortable. I understand. My name is Erica Price. Myself, along with the individuals I work with, have been waiting a very long time to meet you.”

“Why?” he asked, regretting it the second the word left his mouth. As much as he wanted answers, he doubted he’d get any real ones from her.

“You know by now how special you are. I know you do. But the reality is that you’ve been wasting your potential--”

“Did you really have me kidnapped just to give me some speech about how special I am? You’re talking to someone who spent parts of his childhood locked inside a lab like a rat while my parents stood outside, letting the doctors do whatever they wanted in hopes they’d learn what was wrong with me. I get it. I’m a freak,” William replied, the words bitter on his tongue. He didn’t mean it, not exactly. He’d grown past thinking he was a freak, but he had to admit he was surprised at the adamant way Erica shook her head.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re wasting your time, manipulating people into hurting themselves and scaring your friends, when all the while you could be putting your powers to good use,” she replied. She tapped her manicured fingernails against the amulet around her neck and shook her head, surveying him.

Fear pooled in his gut, and he couldn’t help wondering just what she and the others knew about what he was capable of. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, all the while breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He felt nauseous, weak from having eaten little, and he darted his gaze to the sandwich that sat a few feet away on the nightstand.

Erica turned to the man standing guard and then she gestured to the tv built into the wall. She waited as the man tapped the screen a few times, bringing up a video player. “I’d like to show you something that might make you realize how serious I am, and how much I and the others intend on helping you. We’ve been watching you for a long time, boy, even if you never realized it.”

William watched in horror as he saw his own face appear on screen. He was a few years younger, maybe fourteen or fifteen, when someone had honked as he crossed the road on his bike. The man had made him angry, although William now realized it was himself who’d been in the wrong. At the time he’d been upset, not just at the man but at his parents for saying they had to move, and with little regard for the driver of the car let alone the others at the intersection, he fixed his gaze and caused the cars to crash. The screen went black for a second before showing him again, standing firmly in place but trembling just slightly. A girl screamed--not Sarah or Bri, he’d scared them much later--and the frame was shaky, but he knew that despite the camera capturing him, what she was seeing was a monster. He’d made her see the ghouli, and it had left her terrified. The girl ran, but he’d caused claw marks in the wall no human should’ve been able to make.

The screen behind Erica went blank and she nodded as the guard pressed pause. “That’s enough for now, thank you,” she said, turning her attention back to William. “There are older videos, ones from when you were younger. We had to wait until the time was right. Until you were ready for the next phase. But the time is now, so we’ll need you to be ready.”

William eyed the door, still open behind her, and he knew that despite the guard standing there he could probably make a dash down the hall. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he had to try. He tightened his muscles, trying to conjure the image of the ghouli, but the same dulling of his senses pressed in, even harder than before.

Erica smiled, shaking her head sadly as she stepped closer to him. “Your cheap parlor tricks won’t work on me, darling. Not when you have magnetite coursing through your bloodstream.”

Magnetite. He felt like he’d heard that word before, maybe when he was younger, but he still didn’t know what it meant. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t think I’d just waltz in here if there was a chance you could make my head explode now, do you? The sedative I had them give you was laced with magnetite. It’s not enough to kill you, but it’s enough to effectively block your abilities, at least for a time,” she said, studying him. “You should eat. You need to keep your strength up.”

Again, William stared at the sandwich and what appeared to be soup sitting on the tray, along with a bottle of water that practically made him ache with thirst. Still, he wasn’t about to dive into what they’d brought, at least not while they were watching his every move. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re probably still tired from the sedative,” she said, patting his cheek with her paper dry hand. She pulled away, assessing him with an almost fascinated glare. “If you try to run, we will catch you. You will be drugged again, and the dose will be higher. But I want you to understand that I really, truly, don’t want to do that. I want you to trust me, Jackson, and when you’re ready, I want you to join us. There are others like you, you know, but you’re the first. You’re special,” she said, turning towards the door. She stopped in the doorway, nodding to the guard. “I’ll be in my office. Call me if there’s any trouble. And contact Mr.Y. Tell him the plan is set in motion.”

The door closed behind them and William listened as the locks slid into place. He wasn’t a prisoner, she’d hinted at as much, but they still kept him secure. She said there were others like him, but he wasn’t sure if he believed her enough to try and comprehend what that meant. He eyed the food tray as if it were a bomb ready to explode, but if he was being honest, he was hungry enough to take the risk. He ate the sandwich in a few quick bites but disregarded the soup, finding it too salty. He drank a few sips from the water bottle, afraid of being greedy. Erica had said they wanted to help him, but that didn’t mean he’d be getting anything else to drink anytime soon.

He settled onto the mattress, stretching his legs out before him. The air was heavy, weighted down, although he supposed he was still suffering from the sedative. He hadn’t been able to transform, to make them see him for the beast he sometimes thought himself to be, but maybe some of his other abilities hadn’t been dulled entirely. He closed his eyes, settling his hands against his stomach, trying to find that delicate place between sleep and awake. He pictured the woman--the woman with the red hair, Dana, his mother--and he imagined the room that was around him. He didn’t know if it would work, but as he concentrated as hard as he could, he knew he had to try.

[shay-del-rey]

Guardian Angels & Leather Jackets | Sweet Pea x Reader

Fandom: Riverdale

Words: 1080

Rating: T (for now)

Trigger warnings: Mentions of suicide attempt. This issue is one I hold close to my heart and I just want to let anyone reading this know that it is 100 per cent okay to reach out and talk to someone if you are going through difficulties. Here is a link containing some information which I hope will be useful to you. Please know you are loved and cherished and you matter! 

https://fuwaprince.tumblr.com/post/163379039508/us-helplines-depression-hotline-1-630-482-9696

DADDY’S little princess. The sweet, innocent butterfly. The cordial, obedient and polite daughter who would make any parent proud.

Labels, all of them. And nothing sickened you more than those labels.

But this was Riverdale. Here, you either held your head down and graciously accepted the labels bestowed on you, or risk being an outcast in the community.

So you stayed silent, a perfectly imperfect smile plastered on your face, your wild hair tamed into submission and your outfits pressed to perfection.

As the daughter of one of the town’s founding fathers, your name carried a lot of weight in the Northside, especially since your father was at the frontier of the logging business that provided a lot of jobs to working class men and women from both the North and South sides of town.

On the surface, it seemed like you had it all. You were considered aesthetically pleasing by societal standards, you had good grades and nursed hopes of entering Harvard one day, and you had a family that loved you.

But there was still something wrong. Something wrong with you. It almost felt like your true self was hidden.

Conceal, conceal...hide her away...conceal...

You were surrounded by people, yet, you felt so empty and alone. There was no one you could call your own. No one you could truly talk to.

Life was mundane. There was no colour. Everything felt numb. Why couldn’t you feel?

One day, you had driven to the edge of Sweetwater River. It was nearing the end of winter but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel. So you dove in the icy water which prickled like shards at your skin. You then remembered you were not a strong swimmer.

Dazed, you came up to the surface and heard someone screaming. It was you. Your lithe form could not win against nature. When all hope seemed lost, you remembered closing your eyes before your body was lifted from the river and you were placed in a warm leather jacket as you shivered.

You heard voices, one among them the loudest.

I don’t care...get Toni...we have to get help...warm clothes...hypothermia

You opened your eyes and he was the first person you saw. He was frantic and was wrapping your shivering form in a blanket.

Warmth raced through you but it was still not enough. He lifted you up then, hurriedly towards a pick-up parked some distance away surrounded by motorcycles.

“Hold on, princess. You’ll be fine.”

You did not speak, choosing instead to look at him. Tall, muscular and full of warmth, even as beads of water clung to the ends of his raven locks.

His cheeks were red and it was evident that he was the one who had rescued you. But what captivated you were his eyes. Molten pools of chocolate that weren’t only expressive...but alive.

And that was how you first met Sweet Pea, famed member of the Southside Serpents.

Two months later

YOU walked out of the therapist’s office feeling lighter and at ease. Things hadn’t completely improved after your “accident” as your parents called it, but they were getting better.

After the Serpents had taken you to the hospital, you had been given medical attention straight away. As you lay in bed after, you had to endure the scolding of your mother, who was concerned about how this would reflect on the family name.

It was your father who stepped up and decided to give you space and told you about the professional help they were seeking for you.

Sheriff Keller had rolled in the hospital, adamant that the Serpents themselves had something to do with your ending up in Sweetwater River. You vehemently denied his accusations, angry at the law enforcement’s eagerness to pin everything on the Serpents.

Once he seemed satisfied, he had let you be.

For now though, everyone had gone on with their lives. You went under the radar again when you crossed paths with Sweet Pea again.

You had left Dr Jenkin’s practice and headed over to Pop’s, headphones on and your hands in your coat. You were so lost in the music and looking at the pavement that you did not see someone walking straight towards you.

You bumped into a hard wall of muscle and fell flat on your butt. You looked up and saw the same chocolate pools staring down at you.

Blood pooled in your cheeks as you blushed, unable to move from the magnetic pull of his gaze. He was the first to make a move, extending his hand to you, which you took gratefully.

He brushed a hand through his hair, and you took the time to study him as he pulled you to your feet.

He was dressed in a green plaid shirt and jeans, combat boots with dog tags around his neck. Completing the outfit was a Southside Serpents leather jacket, affirming his ties to the gang.

You gulped, speechless.

“Alright there, princess?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Have you, uh, been doing okay? Since the river thing, I mean...” he trailed off, unsure.

You looked down. “Somewhat. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

A hand on your shoulder forced you to look up. “Wouldn’t remember? Princess, you’ve been in my thoughts ever since that day. It’s been eating at me to find you and see if you were okay.”

You hugged yourself. “I’m getting there. Thank you for caring.”

“It may not seem like much but you always have someone to talk to. I know we barely know each other, but I want you to take my contact. Give me a call whenever you want, for whatever.”

You took the offered piece of paper and pocketed it. “I realise I never thanked you. For what you did. You saved my life.”

“Princess, don’t ever feel indebted. Least of all to me.”

You smiled up at him and were surprised to see him return a small, quirky upturn of his lips.

“I’m Sweet Pea, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You said before offering him your hand.

He took your hand in his, brought it up to his lips before he laid a kiss on the back.

“Remember what I said. Call me if you ever need to talk,” he said before bidding farewell, walking past you to straddle a bike he had parked some metres away.

The back of your hand still tingled from the kiss as a blush fanned across your face.

Someone cared.

[sidmjkgc]

There was a otp ask game on my dash. I was reading through the questions, and I accidentally created a damereyux modern au in my head.

Since nobody asked for this, I certainly did not ask for this, and also there is no real plot, here are the headcanons and the story in case someone wants to have fun with this universe.

First, how they met?

• Rey was abandoned as a kid, she lived most of her life in a orphanage. Leia Organa works for the social services, and she took care of Rey's case. Luke Skywalker is a therapist, he also worked a bit with Rey. She met Finn and Rose in a sort of group for kids form foster homes.

• Poe was living near the Solo's family, he played as kid with Ben Solo and he knows the entire family very well. He’s like a second son for Organa.

• Hux went to school with Ben, and they are very close friend. He comes from a rich family, but hates his father and so he run away from home and started to live alone in a small flat. When his father died, he inherited a fortune.

• After his parents’ divorce, Ben started to act strange, had various breakdown and nobody could understand him nor help him, not even his uncle Luke. Hux was the only one able to talk to him. Ben changed his name to Kylo and went to live with Hux for a bit. That's also where he became friend with Phasma, Hux's best friend. With the help of Phasma, who teaches martial arts to kids and has a passion for renaissance fairs, Kylo started to feel better. They go often to renaissance fairs to do some shows as knights.

• When Rey was old enough to leave the orphanage and afford an apartment, Leia asked his son and his friends to help her moving out. 

• Basically, they all met because of Kylo.

What do they do for a living?

• Rey is a florist, she has a tiny shop downtown and everybody loves her and her smile. When she's not working, she likes to create things with clay or go to the flea market. 

• Poe is a taxi driver, and he loves it. Loves talking to the clients, loves driving in the city, even loves the traffic. Sometimes he also does the chauffeur. He likes it less, but it pays a lot more. 

• Hux is a web engineer. While he was still in his teens, he created an app that everybody is still using now. He can work from home, he can work all the time, he creates codes of all kind, the Government asked him to do some job more than once. 

• Phasma is still teaching martial arts and works at fairs. Kylo is a personal trainer and is studying psychology mostly to work on his problems. Finn is becoming a social worker and he's also a volunteer for Unicef. Rose is studying to become a vet, but mostly she trains guide dogs these days.

How did they fall in love?

• Because of Kylo's problems, and because Kylo moved in with Hux for that period of time, Kylo's family asked Hux to give them update on his state. Leia Organa doesn't like Hux very much, there were some bumps on the road and misunderstandings, hence she asked Poe to talk to Hux as a mediator. 

• They all really met when Rey moved out and became friends. 

• They are all friends now and they like to spend time together. Rey and Finn like to go to the cinema together, sometimes they help Rose with a dog and end up going for a walk in the park. Kylo helps Poe to work out, be it in the gym or a run. Hux and Phasma hang out for a drink and some gossip, and have long phone calls when they can't see each other. But they all love to go out together for birthdays or the holydays: they got kicked out from some clubs because they all were too loud.

• At some point Rey discovered that she really liked to spend time together Poe and Hux in particular. There was something about them and how they acted together, that grew on her.

• Poe and Hux knew each other for a long time, and were always sort of rivals and in competition, mostly because their roots and family were so different. They always liked to tease each other. But ultimately, they were friends and support each other.

• One day they were supposed to go to a renaissance fair. Kylo and Phasma were already there, in their armor, since the morning. Rose had a job to do as a vet at the fair, and asked Finn to go with her. Poe had to finish his job as chauffeur and couldn't make it in time, so Rey and Hux waited for him to go later together.

• Of course Hux was driving and Poe was distracted and didn't give the right directions. Of course they got lost in the middle of nowhere. Of course they fought over this, still in the car shouting at each other. 

• They also stopped shouting once they realized Rey was walking to the meadow near the road, a blanket under her arm, a bottle of liquor in the other hand.

• Lie on that blanket, surrounded by the smell of all the flowers, felt like a natural thing to do. Watching the clouds in the bright sky in silence and occasionally touching the other's fingers while passing the bottle of liquor, felt natural. And when she leaned in and kissed first Poe and then Hux tasting the liquor on their lips, it was the natural thing to do. And when a moment later Poe looked in Hux's eyes and smiled, and Hux reached out and touched Poe's cheek, and they kissed in front of Rey, it felt like the most natural thing to do in the entire universe.

• They did make it to the fair, just in time to see Kylo and Phasma sparring. Poe, Hux and Rey were holding hands the entire time, and occasionally smiling at each other. No one of their friends had never saw them this happy, and they too were happy for them.

• They all celebrated that night, and almost got kicked out of the fair.

What happens next?

• After awhile, they went to live together, since Hux could afford to buy a house anyway. They live in the suburb near the town, in a two floors house with two guest rooms for their friends and a nice garden all around for Rey’s flowers.

• One time, Poe came back home with a stray cat. Rey was the first one to see her and she loved her at first sight. Hux said "just one night" and then he's the one who loves her the most. Cat's name is Millicent. 

• Poe and Rey have a special app on their phone created by Hux, and it's called BB8. 

• They have a routine: Poe wakes up first, makes breakfast (mostly leaves some biscuits and milk and cereal on the kitchen table), then goes take a shower. Rey wakes up and eats her breakfast before sneaking into the bathroom. Hux gets up and prepared their lunch boxes for when they go to work. Poe drives Rey to her flower shop, then goes to his work. Hux cleans the counter and heads to his computer to work.

• At lunchtime, Hux receives a message from either Poe or Rey asking him if he has eaten. That's when Hux remembers it is time to eat something: he cooks his lunch and puts away the rest that he will use the morning after for the lunch boxes. Poe and Rey know him enough to know he will be so absorbed in his work he will forget to eat. 

• Poe goes pickup Rey at the end of his shift, and they go home. Sometimes he stops to buy take away food, most of the time he cooks their dinner. Poe loves to cook for his lovers.

• Sometimes, when they come back home, they find Hux chatting via skype with Phasma or Kylo. Sometimes it's Rey or Poe who are on the phone with Finn and Rose. Sometimes they invite their friends at home and play games or stay up all night talking.

• Most of the time they like to spend the time on the couch, cuddling and watching a movie. Sometimes they fall asleep there, and wake up in a tangle of limbs and blankets. 

Smut, angst, fluff.

• Most of the time they do the do all three of them together. But sometimes one of them isn't in the mood, and so the third one watches or just straight up does something else. There's no jealousy between them, they love each other in equal measure. 

• There was an accident with a condom once, and they all freaked out. Rey wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of being pregnant, and they were happy to become father. But the idea of having to choose between one of them for a biological kid, was to much for her. And what if it didn't work out in the end? What if they would break up? They are still young and anything could happen. She couldn't bare the idea of raising a child without a father, not with all that happened to her. Hux and Poe understood and just hugged her and kissed her. They never spoke about it again.

• They also talked about marriage, Poe was the one to bring it up. Since they couldn't get legally married, they decided to share their promises and symbolic gifts: Hux and Poe chose a pair of earings with stars for Rey, Poe and Rey chose a black bracelet for Hux that he wears all the time, Rey and Hux chose a silver ring for Poe that he wears on a necklace.

• Sometimes they stay up at night, in bed, hugging each other, and they talk about their lives, about their childhood. Rey talks about the foster homes where she lived, how hard it was for her to survive another day. Poe talks about his mother, how he loved her and how lost he felt when she died. Hux talks about the mother he never knew, about how his father treated him. And their hugs are tighter and tighter untill they fall asleep. 

• Poe is the one who likes to say "I love you" and embarrass them with serenades in the middle of the streets. Rey is the one who likes to find little gifts to buy them and to hide in their pockets as a surprise. Hux is the one who likes to bring them on fancy dates and make the entire place see how lucky he is to have found them.

• When they fight or need some space, they go to one of their friends for a while. They always come back together, though.

• One time Rey was a bit tipsy and said "this place feels like home". Poe wasn't able to speak for a full minute, Hux almost dropped the glass from his hands.

[woodlenelf]

My Dream

So I've gotten a lot of asks about my dream saying they want to know like details or what happened in the dream specifically and so I decided to just write it out like a story and I hope that maybe if you're struggling this might be able to help you some too?

I was at my collage campus in my English lecture hall listening to my professor drone on about English literature and Shakespeare, trying not to die of boredom. As I sat there I glanced around to see if anyone was in the same predicament when I spotted a guy with green hair sitting across the room. I couldn't see his face but he was wearing a grey South Park hoodie and black skinny jeans, and had headphones around his neck as if he'd just gotten out of an intense gaming session. Intrigued I wondered if he knew about Jacksepticeye, or if he'd just settled on that style on his own. I decided to wait until the end of class to approach him.

As the lecture neared its end he started to pack up his bag, I followed suit and quickly got up to see if I could catch up to him before he left, but as he stood up I saw his face. There was no way I could mistake him for anyone other than he was... Jack was in my class!? My English class? Suspicious I followed him, albeit pretty far away as I was way too shy to actually approach him now I knew who he was. He walked through the campus, smiling and giving a little wave to every few people who past by. He walked to the Red Barn (a large area where students gather for parties and inspirational speeches on campus). I followed but made sure to stay out of sight. I saw him meet with the Dean and they were talking about getting ready for what was basically going to be jack speaking to campus students about PMA later that day. This went on for probably 20 minutes before Jack started to leave. I decided to attend the speech that night and went home to get ready.

Later than day, around 6 or 7 I started heading back to the barn for the speech, however when I got there, the amount of people there made me feel nauseous. I have severe social anxiety and the thought of trying to squeeze into the barn with all those people made me want to curl up and die. I steeled myself for a moment, summoning my courage and made my way inside.

Unfortunately though it only took about 10 minutes of being pushed around by other students as they tried to get closer to the stage to make me ready to have a full on panic attack. Jack hadn't even come on yet and I was already about to start crying from the pure terror of this many people. Giving up I ran outside and hid behind the building. I leaned against the brick wall and breathed hard, trying to calm myself down for another attempt, but before I could convince myself to go back, it started to rain. I looked up at the sky, glaring at the clouds, as if to scold them. Slowly, I slid down the wall and sat on the ground, not able to care anymore about the state of my clothes or even who would see me, and began to cry. It felt like the whole world was crashing down, like I was being punished for just existing... I couldn't breath, I couldn't think, I couldn't move, all I could do was sit in the rain and cry. I don't know how long I cried before the rain stopped. Well, it didn't stop exactly, it jut stopped raining on me. I looked up confused to see an umbrella over my head, when I followed the arm of the person holding it back to them, I saw Jack. He was standing over me, hair mussed from the rain and humidity, watching me with concern. "You okay?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. I hesitated then shook my head, looking down at the pavement. I saw him move beside me out of the corner of my eye and felt an arm drape around my shoulder pulling me into a hug. I don't know why but for a moment, the world seemed to vanish, like nothin g could hurt me as long as I stayed here. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, giving my shoulder a squeeze. I looked back at him, at first, no. I didn't... I didn't want to trouble him with my story or bore him with the details, but the way he seemed to genuinely care, his reassuring smile, it broke down my walls and I started to spill out everything I'd been holding in. From my family, my friends, out of everyone around me, it felt like I could trust him. I told him about ever time I had to move, about the divorces and heart breaks, I told him about my struggles to take care of myself, to convince myself to get out of bed, to eat, I told him everything. He listened quietly for the most part, nodding every now and again to show he was listening. Sometimes he would offer a small bit of advice or agree verbally, but mostly, he just listened. In all honesty, all I needed was someone to listen, someone who I knew wouldn't judge me for what I needed to say, and he let me have that. By the time I finished I was crying again, but not because I was upset, not out of sadness or desperation but out of relief. It felt good to talk to someone, especially someone who didn't have to be there, someone not obligated by some connection to me, the way a family member, friend or therapist would feel obligated... but just someone who cared enough to listen.

When I had finished he nodded slowly and looked out at the courtyard before speaking. "There isn't something I can say that will make everything better, or some magic pill I can give you to make this go away...." He paused as if calculating his next sentence. "but I can promise it'll get better. Things always have the potential to get better... sure they can get worse too, but in the end, it'll all work out." He smiled at me and continued. "Eventually, the struggles you're facing now will be behind you, you'll get past them and come out better for it... and while that may not sound very encouraging, or seem too far away to be worth fighting for, I promise you it's better than the alternative of giving up hope.... half of the battle with depression will be finding the little things that keep you going, the little things that allow you to smile and clear the fog for a bit." I nodded slowly and sighed softly looking at my hands. "So what do I do until then..." I mumbled. "Keep your chin up." He said simply. "As much as you can, keep a positive mental attitude. Instead of saying you can't say you can even if you fail. Life may be hard right now, but your struggles don't define you." He stood up, offering a hand to help me up. When I took it he pulled me to my feet and hugged me tightly. "You'll get through this, just keep pushing... and when it feels like you can't push ahead anymore remember there are people in this world that will help you. You aren't alone, even if it feels like it sometimes." I nodded and smiled a little, reaching up to dry my tears. "Thanks..." I said. He let go, taking a step back and frowned. "What?" I asked, worried I'd made a mistake and he shook his head. "You're soaked... and it's cold. You'll catch a cold if we don't get you dried off and warm..." he took my hand and guided me inside through a back entrance to get me cleaned up. The staff was nice enough offering me spare clothes they had on hand, a red t-shirt and some sweat pants while my clothes dried off. I shivered slightly, as my hair was still wet and wrapped my arms around myself to try to get warmer. Jack chuckled and shook his head, before pulling off his hoodie to reveal a burgundy long sleeve shirt and handing the hoodie to me. "Put this on" he instructed. I'm pretty sure I blushed, it was sweet of him to help me when he didn't know me. I slipped on the hoodie, it was way too big for me and the sleeves covered my hands. It was warm and smelled like coffee, mint toothpaste and deodorant. It was pleasant, like wearing a hug. I stuttered out a thank you and he hugged me one more time. "Now... don't forget there are people that are here for you okay?" I nodded dumbly. "And there are people who love you very much even if you don't think so.... so please take care of yourself. Eat, get up, walk around the house if that's all you can manage, but do something to take care of yourself for the day okay? Promise me?" He looked at me, concern laced into his features and I nodded. "I promise... I'll do my best"

That's when I woke up. For the first time in days I actually got up and ate a real breakfast, I had a Banana with some Raisin Bran cereal and a glass of orange juice. I showered and got dressed in some nice clothes I hadn't had the courage to wear in a long time and went for a walk with my dog around the neighborhood. For the first time in months I felt like I could breathe without the weight of the world resting on my chest and it felt amazing. I don't know what the dream was, if it was my body trying to keep me safe or if it was a message from a guardian angel trying to urge me forward, but it worked. And since the dream I've worked harder to take care of myself, because I made a promise to do so, and I'm not about to disappoint Jack, dream or not.

[poweredbycoffeeandwine]

Snapshots from Haven

 Elina Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford - Pre-relationship - DA Inquisition AU. Here lies all the fluff, and a mabari named Atticus, because I can.

Atticus grumped at the front door; his owner sat, coffee cup in hand, small half smirk on his lips as he observed.  The usually stoic, no-nonsense mabari had begun a strange new ritual of pacing, leash in mouth, at a new time of day. Cullen Rutherford made a career as a soldier, and his personal life mirrored that militant style. He had never questioned the need for structure and schedules, even at his leisure things were done according to plan. What was surprising, however, was noticing the aberration in his faithful companion. They were much alike; his four-legged friend and he. He thrived on on routine, and always questioned changes with his massive head cocked to one side. Cullen found it  strange to remember a time when he didn’t have his loyal mabari. Old memories had faded from agonizing to a dull ache.

The choice to leave the military had not been an easy one, but the PTSD and the daily battles it caused had made the decision obvious. Coming home to his brothers and sisters, broken, battle wary and heartsore, was almost too much. They had suffered at the unexpected death of their parents, but they had moved past it, healed by mutual love and affection; grown beautifully despite trials and hardships. He never wanted to bring that taint to them.

He almost fled into the night. No reasons, no goodbyes. It had been a magical Santinalia holiday. One he hadn’t thought to experience again. He had felt like such an outsider - a guest, apart from the brilliant light his siblings and their families had created. Watching the glowing faces of his siblings, as they exchanged presents, his infant niece sleeping in the arms of his sister looking fragile and at peace. The shame inside him clawed it’s way up and made him feel like a charlatan. Someone pretending to be Cullen. Holding all of his belongings in a couple of suitcases, creeping down the stairs of his sister’s home, he made out her figure sitting on the bottom step. Mia had known, because of course she had, and was waiting for his escape.

Her warm hazel eyes held no pity or disappointment, only sadness and maybe a hint of anger. She didn’t yell at or judge him, she only held out her arms. In that moment she reminded him so much of his mother; her grace and unconditional love. He took solace in her, and explained his demons as well as he could. Everything laid bare for her to examine. They cried together - for innocence lost, for him, for her, and when the sun peaked into the window with the dawn, he agreed to stay.

His sister suggested he consider meeting a counselor and perhaps find a therapy dog to help him cope. He promised to give thought to the therapist, but readily agreed to seek an animal. Atticus had become more than Cullen could have hoped for. He had saved him, he was family, a constant companion and best friend. Nearly two years had passed since that night, and he could not be more pleased with the life he had created. He still had hard days, and likely always would, but he was content. A comfortable home, his siblings, a few close friends, and a job he enjoyed were things he wouldn’t have dreamed for himself just a short time ago.

Cullen had rarely taken time from work, and that is why he was at home on a Tuesday morning, sipping on his second mug of coffee. Cassandra, his partner at the precinct and friend, essentially forced him to take some leave. He knew when to pick his battles, this was one he wouldn’t win. He usually could not sleep past 4, and after a light meal he took Atticus for his walk. Early morning had always been his favorite time of day. There was a freshness to the world, it was undisturbed and it reminded him that everyday he could choose to start again. To leave his ghosts behind. This morning had been no different, there had been a light storm customary with the changing of Summer to Fall. The weather had shortened their walk, but even over the last couple of days when their time was uninterrupted, Atticus hovered at the door at 8 o’clock.

“Well, boy,” he said, clearing his throat, “did you not get enough outside time?”. As he picked up the newspaper to see what reaction he would get; he chuckled at the annoyed huff the dog gave. It turned into a full laugh when he tossed the leash at his feet, and placed his paw on his knee. “All right, I suppose we could go out again.” Atticus sprang up from the ground with a happy bark. He gave the leash to his master and sat dutifully while it was attached to his collar. Cullen grabbed his umbrella and stepped out into the crisp autumn air.

Haven was a quiet tourist town full of picturesque shops and spas, and he had grown quite fond of it. Atticus’ favorite path lead them near downtown towards the bakery. The owner, Flissa, always had a small treat just for his pet. Cullen allowed the adoration and the tiny cookie because… how could he say no to the charming animal? They continued past the coffee/book shop towards the small side street that led to their favorite haunt. There was a park, with flowers, trees, and a pond. Atticus was too well trained to chase the ducks and other birds, but Cullen could tell there were days his puppy side surfaced and he wanted to.

The light drizzle of rain had begun again. It was the kind of rain that didn’t bother short term, but Cullen opened his umbrella since he was walking based on Atticus’ whim. Reaching their turn, his pet began to pull them forward and across the street. The mabari hardly ventured that direction, but he allowed him to lead on. Once they reached the opposite side he made a great show of examining a fire hydrant in front a a pretty shop, “Snapshots from Haven” the sign above the window read.. Cullen, in turn, looked at the display in the large window.

Deep greens, rich browns, blues and gold blended; creating a painstaking whimsical forest scene. Various pictures were showcased amongst the trees. A series of loving couples, weddings, newborn babies, young girls in tutus twirling across glossy and matte prints. At the center was a beautiful portrait of a familiar dog beneath a large tree, leaves of different colors falling gracefully around him. In the background there were birds touching down in the pond. What startled him most was the solitary man standing nearby. He recognized himself, and it looked as though he was waiting for something. His profile staring off into the distance. It was eerie just how life like the picture seemed.

He started at the sound of a tiny cough from just behind him. He turned and found himself looking into the deep chocolate eyes of a woman he was sure he’d never seen before. “It’s a great shot, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft and sweet, “Never thought I would meet the subjects of my favorite photo. Hope you don’t mind?” She looked slightly nervous, as if he would be upset at the invasion of his privacy.

He was openly staring. The woman was striking. Her raven hair was pulled into a ponytail, small fly-aways framing her face. Her lips stretched into the most breathtaking smile ever directed at him.  She was also absolutely soaked. “Yes, of course. I mean no. I have no problem with it. I only wish I’d seen it sooner.” He took a step closer, telling himself it was to give her some measure of protection from the drops of rain misting from above. “Do you own this shop?”

“Um, yeah, I opened it about six months ago. Last year I was here to photograph a friends’ wedding.  After I left I couldn’t get this place out of my mind. I packed up my studio in Ostwick, and here I am.” Cullen couldn’t help but notice how prettily she blushed.

“You’re beautiful….I mean your work. It’s beautiful.” Cullen stammered, turning red, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, should let you get on your way. Rain and all, is wet, you’re wet.”

She laughed, a wonderful tinkling sound that he would love to hear again. “I don’t mind the rain. In fact, I was going to grab a cup of coffee and call it quits for the day. Perks of being the boss. I’d love the company if you and your handsome companion would be so kind?” She motioned towards Atticus. His dog was sitting perfectly still, a knowing look in his intelligent eyes. The only movement was a nearly imperceptible wag of his stubby tail. “My what a good boy you are, so perfect and agreeable.” She fell to her knees in front of him, paying no mind to the puddle on the sidewalk continuing to coo and praise him, leggings and boots suffering.

Maker preserve him, but if she carried on that way, he knew he was in trouble. “We would certainly join you for coffee. I’m Cullen, and this is Atticus. Mind you, he will let all of those compliments go to his head, and there will be no living with him.” He held out his hand to help her stand, and he swore his heart skipped a beat or two when she took it.

“Lovely to meet you both. I’m Elina Trevelyan.” She replied, mischief sparkling in her eyes. She tucked her hand into the arm he offered with a smile. “I see where he gets his impeccable manners from.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, perhaps it is the company that inspires us,” he managed with a great deal more blushing. The rain ceased shortly after reaching the shop, so they decided to sit outside at a table that had escaped most of the water. They sat and talked for hours about books, movies, and favorite locations around Haven.

“You haven’t been up the peak to the waterfall yet? I honestly can’t believe it. I’d bet you could get some beautiful photos there.”

Her lips quirked off to the side as she replied, and Cullen was transfixed by them, “No, I haven’t been able to go. Sara warned me not to make the trip alone, and she and Dagna have been too busy to take me. I am hoping they will agree to it soon before the snows come.”

A far off look in her eyes had him opening his mouth against his better judgement, “Atticus and I could take you. I’m on vacation from work. It really would be no trouble, and I’ve been meaning to go.”

She squealed, grasping his bicep with both hands hugging his arm, “Really?? Cullen that would be amazing!”

“Sure, we can go whenever you are available, I really have no other plans.”

“Can we go Friday? I have a few sessions and editing to complete over the next few days.”

Cullen fighting a smile threatening to overtake his entire face answered, “Yes, that works. Do you want to meet here, or should I pick you up at your studio?”

Elina beamed back at him, and grabbed for his hand. “I don’t have any of my cards with me, so this will have to do.” With a final flourish, she returned his hand to him, and stood. “I’ll see you Friday, Cullen.” She tossed a wink at him, collected her bag, and walked away.

He looked down, dumbstruck. On his palm she had written her name, number, and the small message, “I can’t wait.”  It felt like high school, but he couldn’t help feeling giddy. With his other hand, careful not to smudge her neat flowing message he knelt and gave Atticus a pat. “Don’t think I am clueless about what you’ve done.” He pretended to scold, “Well, what do you think, boy? Do I have a chance?” The mabari gave him a doggy grin, and licked his cheek. They walked home together, Cullen, for once, pleased for deviating from a schedule.

[naokimizutani-blog]

My Experiences, Perspective, My Why, My Vision, Point Of View On the World, And What I Believe In...

Hey guys. This is my first blog, so some of you might need a little background story.

I’m currently living in Tokyo with my wife and cat. I teach Transcendental Meditation and living a comfortable life here. It wasn’t always this way, as I’ve had to find my purpose, persevere and overcome my lack of patience…which I’m still working on.

I was born and raised in downtown Los Angeles. Some people say they’re born in a “big city” when they’re actually born in the outskirts “nearby.” I was born in the middle of LA in Korea Town. Not the best of places, but it’s where my parents started when they immigrated from Japan with only a dream and drive to succeed, and eventually raised a family with three kids, a cat and a dog. 

I never thought of myself as a minority, since I didn’t understand that there was even a majority. People were always people to me.

At home, my parents would speak Japanese. My father was from Kagoshima, Kyushu and my mother was from Osaka near Tennnoji. Luckily, I was placed in an environment where I didn’t have a lot of Japanese friends, so outside of the house, I spoke “SoCal” English. I write “SoCal” because later on, when I moved states for college, I found out the rest of America, or even the world, doesn’t speak the same laid back, “nah-man-everything’s-coo” English I spoke back in my hometown.

It also took me 25 years to realize that the Japanese I spoke at home was NOT the Japanese spoken by most people in Japan either. When I first came to Tokyo and heard formal Japanese (“keigo”), I had no clue what was being said. The clerk at the cash register would always look at me funny because I looked Japanese but couldn’t speak it fluently, which is a thing I sometimes still struggle with today. I probably come off as a Korean student who studies Japanese. These days, it seems the less I speak and just do subtle gestures combined with perfectly timed words, the more I fit right in.

Dialects are a real strange thing. I mean, can you imagine? What if you were born in an area with a specific dialect, and you moved out of your hometown only to realize that your dialect made you sound unintelligent to most people. Luckily the dialects I landed with weren’t so bad, but just a food for thought for those of you raising your children.

My parents were natural entrepreneurs. My dad owned an electronic store in Osaka, which is where he met my mother. (A really cute and funny story there that I’ll save for another blog.) It was during the economic bubble in Japan, so it was a good time to open up shop. He then sold it, followed his dreams, and flew to Los Angeles. My mother followed him to America a year later, and they eventually opened up a Japanese restaurant in Cypress, Orange County.

For all of my childhood, from preschool to high school, my parents were running their restaurant business. During my elementary school years, I’d go there after school and hang out in the back room until my mom finished work. I remember there was always a lot of customers. It was probably the fact that no one else in the area offered teriyaki bowls, sushi, udon noodles, yakisoba or chicken karaage. All I’ll say is that the food at home was ALWAYS good. :)

I admired the culture they created with their customers. Everyone seemed to know my parents by name, and even the police and fire fighters would come in and high-five me.

The only time I got in trouble for being there was when I got bored waiting and stuck my hand in a mountain of rice grains. It felt pretty amazing, but I learned never to mess with quality assurance when a customer witnessed me and my mom brought her scolding thunder.

My mother hardly speaks English, even today, and she claims you only need two things to survive in another country. A smile and “thank you.” I guess that’s why I naturally always smile and say thank you.

My parents did a pretty good job in keeping all three kids out of trouble. They kept us busy. Besides regular school, I trained in a basketball league 3-5 days a week with a weekend game. It wasn’t the league for aspiring Michael Jordan’s and Kobe Bryant’s, but the Asian one. I seriously thought I was pretty good at basketball until I met guys twice my size in Jr. High and High School that easily swatted my threes and dunked over my low defensive stance.

You know that feeling when you train every day and night, even though the lights are out at the park, trying to perfect your moves and shots for 10 years, only to find out you were living in a small bubble and there were guys with better genetics and more talent than you? It’s basically what happened to me with karate, piano, and golf as well, even though I won a lot of competitions, received awards, and featured in local newspapers…in my small bubble.

Basketball and karate brings a lot of good memories, though. It wasn’t winning the competitions and being the best that I enjoyed. It was the process of improving myself and enjoying the community.

My Jr. High and High School years were colored with hip hop, breakdancing and DJing. The Fugees, Tribe Called Quest, Tupac, Ice Cube, Rakim, KRS One, EPMD, Wu Tang, Biggie, DJ Qbert, Mix Master Mike, come to mind. It was always for fun, and my homiez always knew how to have a good time. After school, I’d swim at my friend’s pool, go snowboarding, or have bonfires at the beach. Life was good in the SoCal way.

Since my parents were also successful in network marketing as a side business, I remember being taken to large mansions with 13 rooms overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It was sitting in on meetings and events like these where I learned that business was all about building a community, and financial success was just an outcome. It seemed like the business part was only an excuse to get together because 80-90% of the conversation was about family and kids.

My dad took the family on a local trip every weekend, we had a family trip multiple times a year, and visited our relatives in Japan once a year up until I was in high school.

My parents wanted all three kids to at least be able to understand Japanese and speak to our grandparents, so on top of going to weekday school and all the extra curricular activity, we went to Japanese school on Saturdays.

Boy, did I hate it. It wasn’t that it was hard or difficult. I just really didn’t like the mentality and culture at the Japanese school. Being raised in an American culture, especially in the “sunshine” culture of LA where you’re free to express yourself, going to Japanese school felt like the cringe most people feel when they hear about what’s going on in North Korea. Rigid, so many rules, and very top-down hierarchy. Eek.

It made me appreciate the American culture even more. I excelled in American school, but never did my homework for my Japanese school. I made a ton of friends during the weekdays, but got in a fight every Saturday. It was two opposite worlds, and it was stressful. I think I took out all my aggression and frustration in sports and recreation.

Then, the next day of the week were the peaceful days at Sunday school. That’s where I gained exposure to profound questions to life. It naturally made me think deeply, and put the small things into perspective. It set the foundation, the “thesis” for the direction in my life.

College felt sudden to me. I wasn’t prepared AT ALL. My parents were immigrants, so they didn’t know what to do or how to prepare. With my so-so grades, I cruised right into San Diego State University and that’s when I found out college was about drinking and partying. There was literally a free shuttle bus that would take students from college campus to Tijuana to go party. It all felt lame to me, so my attention went inwards to search for truth and what’s real. It made me ask bigger questions and initiated my soul searching.

I ended up transferring to a private college that specialized in traditional oriental medicine. It was my first exposure to acupuncture, herbs and hippies! I was fascinated because it was a new world to me and off the beaten path. After getting certified as a therapist, I continued my soul searching while attending community college.

During that time, one book that grabbed my attention was the “Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramahansa Yogananda. I visited the Self-Realization Fellowship temples, participated in some classes, and learned some meditation techniques. The Eastern traditions were drawing me closer and closer, and I became fascinated with ancient Vedic knowledge.

One day, somewhere in Pasadena, I was walking home from a rock concert featuring Yellowcard, and saw a poster for the preview of “What The Bleep Do We Know” at a local bookstore. I was fascinated by the concept of quantum physics, mind over matter, and the law of attraction. To be honest, a lot of the speakers seemed too “out there” for my taste, but a Harvard professor caught my attention - Dr. John Hagelin.

I found he was a faculty member of a little known college in the middle of Iowa, called Maharishi University of Management (MUM). I searched for their website, and felt goosebumps. My gut feeling was telling me to go, so I convinced my dad to visit with me and I ended up becoming a student within a few months.

MUM was in a small town located in Fairfield, Iowa. The first reaction from my older sister, Jenny, was “Why are you going to Ohio?” It made me laugh, but I honestly didn’t have a rational, logical reasoning. I just had an intuition.

At MUM, I learned Transcendental Meditation, meditated twice a day with thousands of students, professors and people from many different countries. It was the world I started to glimpse at the oriental medicine school, but multiplied by a thousand.

Fairfield is a town of 10,000 people, where the majority of residents are health conscious artists, entrepreneurs and business owners. Those 5 years taught me what was possible on a community level if enough people agreed to a common lifestyle. My perspective of the world went from a dark, violent world, to a stress-free, peace-loving one.

I majored in Environmental Science, and minored in Vedic Science. Then, my last year was focused on mathematics and physics. I ended up being the assistant for Dr. John Hagelin’s first-year physics course, which was a crash course on fundamental physics and quantum physics.

I then found an opportunity to go to the Maharishi European Research University (MERU) in Vlodrop, Holland. Let me tell you, the feeling of the place made it seem like it was a different world. The closest thing I can relate it to is the Jedi counsel in Star Wars. Yoda was like the TM founder Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and the Jedi masters were like the many leaders from various countries. Some were from countries I probably wouldn’t be able to point out on a map even if my life depended on it. Kyrgyzstan, Brunei, or Malta anyone? MERU was like an extension of Fairfield, but more organized with a bit more of a corporate feeling to it. Kind of like a miniature United Nations, but without all the greed and corruption. After all, it was the headquarters for the global TM organization.

I was at MERU when Maharishi passed away, and suddenly flew over to India to attend the grand ceremony. Yes, India. Who would have ever thought I would end up in India? It was a major culture shock. My heart and mind were not prepared for the trip. I stayed close with a few friends I made at MERU who became some of my most cherished friends even today.

We backpacked it through rickshaws and cows, hopping on trains, and spending the night at one-star hotels. There’s a reason why people who have gone to India bond instantly. It’s because they’ve experienced something most people have never seen. A few places we visited: New Delhi, Allahabad, Varanasi, Rishikesh, Himalayan villages and a random city in Jabalpur, where we visited palm leaf astrologists, called Brighu Pandits.

After 90 days of travel, spiritual growth, and stomach problems, we said farewell and some of us flew to Phuket, Thailand. It seemed like paradise with coconuts, durian and white sand beaches.

Life took a 360 turn around after my trip, though, when I got back home to my parents place. I was 25, and received a phone call to be invited to help with educational conferences in Japan for the summer. The only reason I was invited was because I graduated from MUM, was Japanese, and made a connection at MERU. I helped set up conferences in Hiroshima, Osaka, Kyoto, and Tokyo, which had some really high profile people.

Remember how I didn’t enjoy my Japanese school? It was basically the same situation, but worse. Go figure! I was too independent minded. I spoke when I wasn’t supposed to. Everything was backwards for me, and I must have upset a lot of “seniors” because I disturbed their way of doing things.

During the storm of cultural clash, I somehow met my wife, Yoko. There were three times in my life when I had a gut feeling of assurance. The first time was finding MUM. The second time was becoming an instructor of TM. The third was finding my wife. I’ve heard when the emotion and intellect integrate, there is a knowingness. It’s called intuition. It’s what I’ve based my life decisions on, and it hasn’t seemed to fail me. (Knock on wood)

From that moment on, my life was spun around, and I ended up marrying Yoko in less than a year of knowing each other. I began living in Japan without any plans or preparation, and really struggled to make ends meet at first. While gaining practical experience in life, such as paying the bills, working, and building a comfortable home, I simultaneously began to meet a lot of clairvoyants and clairaudients. The “SoCal” part of me would say “get-outta-here” but it’s just a normal day for me now. I don’t know why or how I meet them, but it’s just a reoccurring pattern. Must be some kind of pattern in nature.

Being in Japan, for me, has been a process of integrating my heart and mind, the left and right brain. I’ve been to high-end business seminars and personal development seminars. I’ve taught English for GABA, and rated with 5-stars at their Shinagawa office. I worked for a moving company, organic market, a farm, and as an international salesperson for a prototype car manufacturer. I don’t know what happened to all the samurais in Japan, but I think many of their offsprings work in the auto industry now. There’s a reason why Japan makes some of the best cars and technology in the world. There is a culture of being very organized, systematic and detail oriented.

After overworking, nearly breaking my back and having internal breakdowns from losing the "American” part of me, my wife and I had an intuition to become certified TM instructors and we both took a leap of faith. It was five and a half months of intensive meditation, training and bliss.

When Yoko and I graduated, we were ready to take on the world. We felt refreshed, filled with optimism and enthusiasm. Out of the group of teachers who graduated with us, we were the first to open our TM center in Akasaka. From a national average of 3 to 5 clients per month, we had 30 to 50 people sign up starting the first month. We already had a network of friends and clients who trusted us, and we used all our previous experience and knowledge about business to really make it a success. We soon became the most successful instructors in Japan, and became one of the highest performing teachers in the world.

No one grows with easy growth. All successful entrepreneurs experience a “punch in the face” that made them evolve and improve. I’ve experienced a fair share of my own, which had to do with a cloud of jealousy that overshadowed the blue sky above us and someone decided to close our center and take us off the map. It was one of those Japanese ninja tactics. I never received a clear answer as to what happened, but I can guess why. It’s one of those things in life you couldn’t do anything about, and it wasn’t worth fighting about. I decided to suck it up and move on.

We eventually managed to establish an independent TM organization in Japan with the approval from the international organization, and opened up our new TM center in Shinjuku, Japan, which is our current location. In the first 3 years, thousands of people have come through our doors.

We focused on nurturing our community, and created a wealth of loyal friends who referred their friends and family. We even had the privilege to teach an entire company with a hundred fifty employees. We have regular weekend retreat courses in Izu, and regular advanced lectures and courses around Japan. It may not be a place that everyone would be attracted to, but it seems fit for those people who like a positive, young and successful atmosphere, which is the way I like it.

The most difficult thing for me was learning patience to manage a company. Everything was new to me, and I had to learn about administration, finances, marketing, and sales, which I had no idea how to do. I only knew in my gut the direction I needed to take the company, but the process was very slow. It was the grind.

The only way to keep myself from giving up was cultivating my gratitude. The top things you need in creating a successful business is purpose, perseverance and patience. Without it, you’ll end up wanting to take shortcuts that eventually bite you back somewhere down the road.

I’ve been lucky with moments that seemed to be too good to be true. Call it serendipity or synchronicity, but when we were in the deep with our company, something or someone always seemed to come around to bring us back to where we needed to be. It’s like an invisible hand. I believe when you genuinely want to do good for others, and you’re doing your best to make it happen, the opportunity for luck to come into your life increases. I’ve been lucky many times in my life.

At the end of the day, no matter how hard the grind is, it comes down to joy and laughter. My wife thinks I’m the comedian, but she cracks me up multiple times a day. Laughter helps to keep things in perspective and makes the process so much more enjoyable. There are 99 million things to be worried and frustrated about everyday, but there’s always at least 1 thing you can find to laugh about. When I find it hard to find that one thing, it’s usually because I’m in the deep end of being too serious. I like to take a moment to smile at how intensely focused I am. Taking one step back, seeing the big picture, and just appreciating and finding the humor in every situation always helped me get through the darkest hours.

When you cultivate joy and laughter, it radiates and it’s what people are naturally attracted to. Everyone knows life isn’t easy, and if you don’t know, you probably still live with your parents or got a lucky break. When you radiate this joy, people want to be a part of it, and want to share it with others. We’ve been lucky to have a flow of referrals from our dedicated community only through word of mouth.

I have learned that in business your pipeline is your lifeblood and it always needs to be full. You have to constantly create awareness in prospective clients, provide enough information so they can do their own research and become interested, make an offer, deliver a good quality product or service, and follow up. You always need to have the energy flowing in your business. Otherwise, you’re not flowing. You’re not moving. That causes the wheels to stop turning and your company comes to a hault. Keeping your eyes on the whole process while focusing on the details takes some practice.

If done right, you can eventually create 500 true fans. It’s all you really need to create a success business and a comfortable life. For example, if you have 500 people who trust you, and like you and your services, they’re ready to be a part of your events, courses, and activities. Let’s say those 500 people purchase your $30 product or service. That’s $15,000. For most people, that’s a comfortable monthly income. For most businesses, that’s not all that difficult to achieve.

You start to create a culture where people gain value through the community and being together. Just how an organism is made of many microorganism, or how the galaxy is made of many stars and solar systems, your company becomes sustainable with 500 true fans.

Currently, I feel I’m getting ready to move on to another level in life beyond teaching TM and managing a TM center. After teaching hundreds of people and seeing the change in their life, I’m now drawn to helping others build a business that is fueled by their passion and purpose.

I need to do me. I have to keep following my intuition and joy. So I’ve created the Cosmic Entrepreneur program to help people build a mind body startup with 500 true fans. This can be beneficial for people just getting started or business owners who want to learn a more “zen” way of doing things. There really is no need to become a millionaire to live a good life. I’ve done a million and a half, and I can tell you it doesn’t really change anything other than the fact that you can buy more things. You still have to work on you, and I’m sure your wife will happily remind you of that.

Becoming wealthy isn’t a bad thing. However, it’s the unsatisfied small ego that wants to continuously grab a hold of millions and millions of dollars that you can’t even manage. It causes an imbalance of what you desire and what you actually need. This causes strain. All you need is to create a sustainable ecosystem in your business, so that you can enjoy the process called life. A business is always to support your lifestyle, not the other way around.

With the ever-changing field of marketing, online platforms, and social media, etc., it’s effecting the global economy and the large corporations. The media agencies on Wall Street are definitely feeling it.

I believe more and more people will want to become independent. There will be a growing number of house wives who start a home business and create their own independent income. More 14 year olds will become YouTubers and eBay flippers, rather than becoming hamburger flippers. Experienced professionals will become freelancers or contract workers, rather than caging themselves in a corporate environment. There is already a growing number of entrepreneurs and business owners, which only creates more opportunity for investors, angels, and philanthropists.

My intuition also tells me more and more people will want more balance between their happiness, health, and wealth. More people will want less B.S., such as these self-help gurus who don’t have real solution, talent or life experiences. People will steer away from these “make money fast” gurus who have never owned a real business. Those who took shortcuts may do well in the short term, but in the next 5, 10 or 20 years, the market will separate the authentic from the phony.

People will need to stop chasing an unreachable dream and become comfortable with who they really are, not what the media tells them to become. People will naturally enjoy more down time, family time, and being a part of a community. Technology, artificial intelligence, virtual reality and e-sports will change the way we use time, socialize and make purchases.

To be happy and comfortable, you don’t need to be a millionaire, be famous, or live each day to extremes as if it was the last day of your life. We just need to be ourselves, and less influenced by what others think of us. The next 5 or 10 years are going to challenge every one of us to find our purpose, perseverance, and patience.

Do you.

I’ve been in this business for about a decade now. I’ve met a lot of gooneys and some of the most amazing individuals. I’ve had my highs, and I’ve had my lows. I’m fascinated by it. I’m growing fast. I’m learning fast. I’m still a student of this stuff, but I have a service to offer for those of you getting started or want to take things to the next level.

I’m starting a series of talks called “Mind Body Startup with 500 True Fans.” It’s an integration of my new venture Cosmic Entrepreneur and TM Japan.

There is a process I created called Be-Do-Thrive. Be, meaning going within and getting to know yourself. Do, meaning finding a suitable business model that suits your lifestyle. Thrive, meaning utilizing the latest platforms to reach and nuture your 500 fans as quickly as possible. Topics include mind-body health, self-branding, building 500 true fans, latest marketing strategies through social media, and how meditation can help you in the process.

I hold lectures in Tokyo, which include a brief overview, a networking session to meet other participants, some demos, Q&A, and a mini-private session for those interested.

I also offer private sessions, live events and webinars, regular blog posts, videos, and share information on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Snapchat, Line, and Instagram. If you are interested, feel free to connect with me or email cosmic@naokimizutani.com

I wish you happiness, health and wealth, and most of all, I hope you enjoy the process of becoming more you.

Stay tuned to get the latest updates and insider’s tips.