#i was happier with accomplishments last year than prior.

[painsrequiem]

Oh, yeah. I wanted to mention I wanted to make more of an effort across my blogs for this new year. I adore all my muses, and....yeah.

Needless to say I wanna visit Sey mour (ahah~), but also dote on my main Bea, and my newer muse Ulti. (And then try to revisit more of Emperor as well)

Art.

[danielleverboskirealtor]

Danielle Verboski Realtor

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Clients in Connecticut can take advantage of our extensive realty industry network to learn about recently listed homes. Heritage and Remax have always been reliable, therefore we trust them completely. Trustworthy real estate agents are available at RE/MAX® whenever you need them. You will not be permitted access until the showings and transactions are finalized. You can be fooled by their seemingly casual manner when they're with you. Everyone can finally unwind. It doesn't matter what occurs. Buying and selling property does not necessitate a plan. It was obvious that all of the speakers had important things to say. Keep this in mind while you go about your daily activities. Things may have turned out differently if the real estate deal hadn't fallen through. No matter where you are, our state-of-the-art solutions will keep you one step ahead of your competitors. You can access this info whenever you need to.

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Your accomplishments have brought immense joy to everyone in Mystic, Connecticut. I deeply respect your commitment to bettering yourself.  Involved parties include Danielle Verbleski. The housing markets in Waterford and Stonington have experienced tremendous growth over the last many years. Any time, day or night, you can reach out to Agent Danielle Verboski with any inquiries or concerns. Danielle is the go-to person for financial guidance. Two of Danielle's favorite towns in Connecticut are Stonington and Waterford. Do not hesitate to contact Realtor Danielle if you are interested in buying or selling a house and would need more detailed market information. Quickly, she will reply. Yes, she would gladly provide you a helping hand if you asked. Living the "American Dream" with her wealthy parents and large extended family was nothing new to her. When she read your appraisal of the real estate market, she felt better. Buying property is a long process, so you shouldn't rush into it. Before choosing a choice, consider all of the possible outcomes. No outcomes have been achieved thus far through diplomatic efforts. If anyone knows of a real estate agent in the Waterford or Stonington areas of Connecticut, I would be very grateful. We are reaching out to you for help.  Find out more about how we can help you. It is Danielle Verboski who you should chat with. Even brief interactions with other people can teach us a lot.

[sochilll]

35, 42, 43 :D

35. Who was important to you this year but wasn’t important last year?

Uuuh definitely my roommates (w the exception of one who’s been important since freshman year ofc <3) and my work besties. One of my roommates I just met this year when I moved and I love her sm she’s so funny n cool. The other I had a few classes with but never really talked to until we moved in and now I love her! She’s my English major bestie and we’re gonna carpool to campus together next semester :). And then there’s like 3 people I met from my job that I adore. One of them is home for winter break rn and I miss her sm </3.

42. What are you most proud of accomplishing?

Aaah I feel like I didn’t make any solid tangible accomplishments but just like, where I am in life in general. I have a lot more friends this year than I had in the past 3 years of college. I have a job that I don’t hate and I like my coworkers and I made friends from classes that I actually talk to and hang out w outside of school. (I’m having lunch w one of my friends and their gf next week!) I’m just proud of myself for making it this far and creating a life that I actually enjoy. I missed out on a lot of my college experience so I’m glad that I’m getting some of it back now.

Also becoming mutuals w so many cool n smart people on here by hoodwinking them into thinking I have good takes 😎

43. What have you learned about yourself this year that you didn’t know in the years prior?

I don’t know what I’ve learned about myself this year tbh. Nothing profound. I’ve learned I actually do sort of enjoy dancing. I’ve learned that I’m much happier having many friends of varying closenesses than just one close one. I think that “I’d rather have one real friend than 20 fake friends” mentality gets kinda twisted sometimes and turns into thinking you should only have friends that you’re super duper close with (for me anyway). And that’s not true! And I was kind of unhealthily attached to my one best friend and when she started having less time for me it was really emotional devastating. But now I have many friends! Some of them are just work friends or friends of friends but that’s okay! You can enjoy talking to someone without being life long besties!

End of the year questions!

[idonthalfbloodymissyou]

hogwarts express

the marauders years on the hogwarts express, told from remus’ pov. my original one-shot, feel free to repost with credit!

1971 - year one

Remus stumbled into an empty compartment at the far end of the Hogwarts Express, absolutely exhausted from a few days prior.

He barely managed to stow his trunk before he slumped against the window and fell asleep.

--- 

Remus awoke to two boys with messy black hair sitting across from him, playing a game of Exploding Snap.

One of the boys had wavy shoulder length hair and pale blue eyes. The other had short, incredibly messy hair, warm hazel eyes, and glasses.

The one with the longer hair glanced up at Remus and elbowed his friend.

“We didn’t wake you, did we?” the one with glasses asked.

“Erm- no,” Remus said, slightly taken aback that someone was sitting with him.

“Good,” he said, looking relieved. “I’m James. James Potter.”

“I’m Remus Lupin,” Remus offered.

“As in Lyall Lupin’s son?” the boy with longer hair asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Remus nodded silently. He didn’t like discussing his father all that much, but thankfully neither boy pressed the matter.

“I’m Sirius Black,” he said. Remus nodded as James grinned.

“Nice to meet you,” Remus said.

“Want to play Exploding Snap?” Sirius asked.

“Sure. I’m rubbish though.”

“You can’t be rubbish; it’s a game of chance! Beside, no one is worse than Sirius here,” James said, reshuffling the cards.

“Hey!” Sirius protested, but James was no longer paying attention.

He was staring intently out of the compartment door. Remus and Sirius followed his gaze to see another black-haired boy in the hall, (although his hair was much greasier), talking to a girl with long, dark, auburn hair.

“You saw her too, right?” James asked. “The one with the red hair.”

“What about her?” Remus asked.

“She’s gorgeous!”

Sirius pulled a face but laughed.

“Now’s not time for girls, mate. Now is time for Remus here and I to kick your arse at Exploding Snap.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

1972 - year two

Remus made his way to the back of the train, finding the compartment he had sat in the previous year. He had just managed to pull his trunk in before Peter came in.

“Hi, Remus!” he said cheerfully.

“Hey, Peter. How was your summer?”

Peter smiled. “Oh, it was great! It was really nice to be home,” he paused as Remus helped him put his trunk on the rack. “What about you?”

“Oh, it was good.”

Before he could elaborate, James and Sirius came bursting in, breathing heavily.

“Oh, thanks, mate,” Sirius said, a wild grin on his face.

“No problem.”

Remus eyed them suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” James said, very clearly guilty.

“Sirius?”

“He saved me from the Slytherins,” Sirius said, making a face. “Mum wanted me to help Reggie on and he dragged me into the Slytherin compartment. It was horrible!”

“Why were you running?” Peter asked.

“We may or may not have had to throw a dung bomb to escape.”

Peter laughed as Remus sighed. These were the friends he had made. Although it didn’t seem that way, he couldn’t be happier about it.

“You could have at least hexed them, you know,” Remus said.

1973 - year three

James walked into their compartment last, looking absolutely ready to burst with information.

“What is it?” Remus asked the moment he walked in. James looked around and closed the compartment door, grinning widely.

“I finished it,” he said.

Sirius was the first to understand. “You did? Show us!” he urged.

James grinned wider (if it was even possible) and pulled a piece of parchment out of his rucksack.

The cover read, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs / Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present / THE MARAUDER’S MAP.

“Woah,” Peter breathed.

“Blimey, we did it!” Remus said.

James nodded proudly. “Dad had to help me a bit and we still need to find a way to hide it from normal people, but still! We did it!”

They all sat in their usual seats, spreading the map across the floor and inspecting every bit of it on their way to Hogwarts.

“McGonagall’s with Dumbledore,” Sirius pointed out.

“So?” Remus asked.

“So, what do you reckon they’re doing?”

“Gross!” Peter said, making a face.

“Minnie’s mine, Dumbledore better not be making any moves,” James said.

“I thought Lily was yours?” Remus asked.

Before James could reply, none other than Lily Evans opened the compartment door.

James jumped down, trying desperately to cover the map with the help of his friends.

“What are you doing?” Lily asked suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Peter said quickly.

“What are you doing, Evans?” Sirius asked.

Lily shrugged. “I was looking for Marlene and was wondering if you’d seen her.”

“No, I’m sorry, Lily. We haven’t,” Remus said.

“Okay. thanks anyway.” Lily paused outside the door before sticking her head back in. “By the way, Black, I’m not ‘Potter’s’. And that’s quite a brilliant map you’ve got there.”

The Marauders stared at her in shock as she closed the door.

“She didn’t rat us out?” Peter asked.

James shook his head, grinning. “I told you. She’s perfect.”

Remus couldn’t help but agree. Lily was the perfect match for James.

1974 - year four

“Did you hear?” James asked excitedly as the rest of his friends settled into their compartment. They’d gotten to Hogwarts in this compartment every year since first year.

“Hear what?” Peter asked.

“You didn’t hear?” James asked incredulously.

“No,” Remus said.

“How?”

“Prongs, you bloody prat, just tell us,” Sirius growled.

“We’re having a Yule Ball this year!” James said.

“A ball? Ugh,” Sirius said, making a face.

“Isn’t that usually when the Triwizard Tournament happenes?” Remus asked.

James nodded.

“But they cancelled that centuries ago,” Peter said.

“Apparently they still have a Yule Ball every five years, for Hogwarts students only. You know, for fun.”

“Balls aren’t fun,” Sirius grumbled.

“Is that why we needed dress robes?” Remus asked, deciding to ignore Sirius.

James nodded again.

“When is it?” Peter asked.

“Christmas Eve, I think. That’s when it was with the Tournament, so I think they keep it going.”

“I can’t wait,” Peter grinned.

“For a ball?! Wormtail, it’s a bloody dance,” Sirius whinged.

He proceeded to complain about how boring and awful dances were for the next twenty or so minutes as James and Peter ignored him.

Remus on the other hand, couldn’t help but be amused by his friends’ antics. He really loved them.

1975 - year five

Remus made his way down to their usual compartment from the prefects compartment.

“Remus!” James and Sirius yelled, pouncing on one of their best mates as he walked in.

“Hi,” Remus laughed. “How are you?”

“We’re amazing!” James said.

“We did it, Remus!” Peter said. James and Sirius grinned.

Remus stood there for a moment, confused, before the realization finally hit him.

“Are you serious?”

“Why yes, yes I am,” Sirius said, smirking.

Remus whacked his arm. “No you twat, did you actually do it?”

James grinned as he pulled the blinds shut on the compartment so no one would see.

“Wormtail, you’re up,” he said.

Peter grinned and directed his wand at himself. A moment later, a chubby brown rat laid on the floor where Peter was a moment before. He scurried up onto the seat as Sirius took his place, effectively turning into a great black dog.

Remus stood there, his mouth agape as Sirius jumped up next to Peter, who was still a rat.

“Moony, you may want to sit down for mine,” James said.

Remus rolled his eyes but hopped onto the seat nonetheless.

James directed his wand at himself this time, and suddenly a large stag was standing where James had been.

“Bloody hell,” Remus said, looking at his friends (who were now all animals). He let out a laugh. “You did it! You actually did it,” Remus said, grinning widely.

He couldn’t believe his friends had done this for him. Despite all the risks, they had done this because they cared about him.

1976 - year six

Remus made his way back from the prefect compartment with Lily, chatting about their summers.

“See you later,” Lily said, going to join Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas in their compartment. Remus waved and continued to the end of the train where he usually sat with the rest of the Marauders.

“Moony!” Peter yelled as he walked in.

Remus smiled, hugging his best mates.

“I missed you, Moony,” James said.

“Prongs? You missed me?” Remus asked playfully.

James rolled his eyes, sitting back in his usual seat.

“Padfoot’s been driving me mad. He’s bloody hard to handle on his own,”

“Hey!” Sirius protested.

Peter and Remus laughed.

“How’s that been, by the way?” Remus asked, now more serious.

Sirius shrugged, but had a large grin plastered on his face. “It’s been great. Mum’s so nice, much nicer than you lot,”

“Mum?” Peter asked.

“I’ve started calling Euphemia mum. Much nicer than my last one.”

Remus laughed again. “James, you okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Always wanted a brother, now I got one. Well, you lot too,” James said.

“So we’re an afterthought?” Remus teased.

“No!” James protested.

“He knows you’re kidding, Prongs,” Sirius said.

James shook his head. “You lot are all my family. That’s what the Marauder’s are; family.”

Remus smiled widely. James was right. They were family. They would always be there for each other no matter what, because that’s what family does.

1977 - year seven

Remus made his way back from the prefect compartment with James and Lily trailing behind him. They had been made Head Boy and Girl this year. How James had accomplished that was beyond any of them.

“Would you like to join us this year, Lily?” James asked as they got closer to the compartment.

Lily sighed. “May as well, I can’t seem to find Marlene or Mary anywhere.”

“Found them,” Remus said, pulling the door of their usual compartment open, being met with warm welcomes from their friends.

“What are you doing here?” Lily asked her friends.

Marlene shrugged. “Hanging out with mate,” she said, stating the obvious.

Lily rolled her eyes and sat down between Marlene and Mary. James settled across from her and Remus sat two seats down, squashed between Sirius and the window, just like always.

“Where’s Wormtail?” Remus asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Not sure. He brought in his trunk and said he’d be back before you guys and still hasn’t showed up.”

“Weird,” James said.

Just then, Peter made his way through the door.

“Wormtail!” James said.

Peter smiled. “Hi.”

Sirius grinned as Peter sat down.

“Great. Now that we’re all here, I have an idea,” Sirius said, pulling a muggle pocket knife out of his pocket.

“Oh no,” Remus groaned.

Mary and Lily eyed him warily but Marlene paid no attention. She was just as rebellious as him, nothing he did surprised her much at this rate.

Sirius got up and walked over to the window, bending down to carve something just below it. When he stepped back, there was a small S.B. underneath it.

“Brilliant!” James said, grabbing the pocket knife to go next, carving a small J.P. next to Sirius’ initials. Remus took the knife and added a R.L., then handed the knife over to Peter who hesitantly added a P.P. before giving the knife back to Sirius.

“That’s technically vandalism,” Mary pointed out.

“As long as it doesn’t have to do with us, let them have their fun,” Lily said.

“Evans!” James said, taken by surprise.

“What?”

“I never pegged you for a rule breaker!” James cried, clutching his chest dramatically.

Lily laughed, “Then there is much you don’t know about me.”

Remus smiled, watching his friends as they all began to engage in chatter.

He couldn’t believe he was about to begin his last year at Hogwarts, but he knew he would be with his friends, and that calmed him. No matter what, they would always be there for him, because they weren’t just friends; they were family.

1993

Remus apparrated right outside of Kings Cross at 9 am, hiding in the alleyway. He slowly made his way through the station, pausing when he reached the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. He looked around, and quickly stepped through the barrier onto the platform.

Remus had to hold in his tears as he looked around sadly. Usually the platform was busy and bustling with students, and Sirius, James, and Peter would be hanging around somewhere, waiting for him or playing a prank on some new students. Or, in a few cases, snogging girls.

Remus smiled sadly as he remembered that particular year.

The train wouldn’t leave for another two hours, and therefore Remus had it to himself as he made his way on board, slowly walking down the corridor to their compartment. Upon finding it, he let a few tears escape.

Remus ran his hands over the worn seats, stowing his trunk and then bending down. Right there, under the window where they had left them seventh year, were the initials.

S.B., J.P., R.L., and P.P.. Underneath those, carved later, at the end of the year, were the initials L.E..

He sat down, keeping his eyes trained on the initials, thinking about all the good times they had in this compartment.

Who would have thought he’d be back? And alone. All alone. Because his friends were gone. James and Lily were dead. Peter was dead. And Sirius- oh, Sirius.

He was in Azkaban. Even though everyone thought he was responsible, Remus wouldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Sirius hated Voldemort. He wanted to bring him down. He left his family because they supported him.

There was no way Sirius betrayed them. He just couldn’t have- he wouldn’t have.

Remus leaned back, dropping his face into his hands and sobbing. He couldn’t help it anymore. Everyone he loved was gone. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep before the hoard of Hogwarts students began to board.

---

Remus woke up to a dark, cold train, hearing voices.

“Quiet!” he said suddenly, his voice hoarse from sleep.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a flickering light filled the compartment. Remus had conjured a small clump of flames.

“Stay where you are,” he said as he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

Before he could reach the compartment door however, it slid open slowly.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Remus’ hand, was a dementor.

And then from beneath the hood, it drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

Remus summoned his happiest memories. Meeting his friends. Being sorted. The year they mastered Animaguses for him. The day James and Lily got together. Their wedding. The day Harry was born.

“Expecto Patronum!” he yelled. His Patronus became a wolf, just like it had been for the past decade. The dementor disappeared as his Patronus ran up and down the corridor, and a moment later, they were gone.

The lights flickered back on, and the train began moving once more. Remus turned around and his breath caught in his throat. Lying on the compartment floor, appearing to have passed out, was James.

But no, it couldn’t have been.

That’s when he noticed the scar.

“Harry,” he whispered to himself.

Harry. It was Harry. James and Lily’s son. He hadn’t seen him in twelve years. Not since the day before his parents were killed. He didn’t even see him on the day they were. No, by the time he had arrived, it was too late.

He had shown up to a dark, almost destroyed house, and discovered two of his best friends lying on the floor, dead, very much like Harry looked now.

He held in his tears and made his way forward to help, almost losing it when he noticed a red-haired girl. She looked very much like Lily. Only a few things about her were different.

Her eyes were brown instead of emerald, she had more freckles, and her hair was just a shade lighter than Lily’s, but she had very similar features. And when she spoke, she had the same fire in her eyes and determinedness in her voice that Lily always had.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Ginny!” a girl with bushy brown hair scolded. “He’s a professor.”

“Oh,” the girl who he assumed to be Ginny said.

Remus smiled sadly. “Yes, I am a professor.”

A red-haired boy and the girl with bushy brown hair began slapping Harry’s face, trying to wake him up.

“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?”

“W-what?”

Harry opened his eyes and Remus gasped.

He knew Harry had Lily’s eyes. He had seen them before, as a baby. But seeing him here, older, he looked so much more like both of his parents.

He really was James with Lily’s eyes. He felt his shoulders sag with sadness as he thought of all the things he and his friends had missed out on as Harry had grown up.

The girl with bushy hair and the red-haired boy helped Harry back into his seat. The same seat James always used to sit in.

“Are you okay?” the red-haired boy asked Harry nervously.

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. “What happened? Where’s that- that thing? Who screamed?”

“No one screamed,” said the red-haired, more nervously still.

Harry looked around the compartment. Ginny and a boy with blonde hair that looked curiously like Frank and Alice Longbottom looked back at Harry, both very pale.

“But I heard screaming-”

Remus pulled a large slab of chocolate out of his robes, and began breaking it into pieces. The loud snap made all the kids jump.

“Here,” he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It’ll help.”

Harry took the chocolate but didn’t eat it.

“What was that thing?” he asked Remus.

“A Dementor,” said Remus, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.”

Remus didn’t elaborate more than that. He was already thinking about the fact that they were the things that had guarded Sirius for twelve years and stopped him from escaping. Now, they were looking for him. But no. Remus couldn’t dwell on that now.

Everyone stared at him. Remus crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

“Eat,” he repeated. “It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…”

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor, immediately beginning to shake and sob the moment he was obscured from view.

He stood there for several moments, crying and crying because it had finally hit him. His friends were gone. They were gone. They had been for twelve years. Twelve years.

He was alone, and they weren’t coming back.

[myfriendscallmecoelophysis]

secret song

Martha and Spark being a family (with added reunion in s1 world) 

There were few people in the world who knew that the First King of Dagrun had a secret talent. He was well-known as an accomplished builder, a loving husband and father as well as a fair King, but it was his musical talent that was reserved for his family. He sang to them constantly. He sang love songs to his wife, taking her hands and dancing through the halls of the castle whenever the mood struck him. He sang calming lullabies to his children to quiet them to sleep, rocking them in his arms. Oftentimes, the nights they spent as a family around the fireplace were spent with Spark playing his guitar while his family danced and sang along. He was never happier then in those moments. 

With each member of his family, he had a special song. For his wife, he sang of his devotion and adoration, a slow romantic melody of his love. For his son, he sang a song of pride and belief that he would grow to be a truly good man and even better King. And for his daughter, he sang a song of promise. 

He traveled often for his duties and Martha took after her mother in more ways then one, she began having visions from a young age and came to dread the time her father spent away, fearing that something may happen to him while he was gone. He crafted a secret song just for the two of them. A promise that he would always keep her close to his heart no matter how far apart they were. Each and every time he had to leave, he would sit with Martha in her room the night before and gently strum his guitar while they sang their secret song. 

The night before she was to leave Dagrun to set out on her own, he found her sitting by the fireplace with a cup of tea.  He knew she was nervous about being out on her own but also excited to see what destiny awaited her as her fledgling magic grew stronger and stronger. Quietly, Spark walked up behind her with his guitar in hand and softly beginning to play. 

“Remember me Though I have to say goodbye Remember me Don't let it make you cry”

Martha looked up at his voice, smiling as he rounded the sofa to come sit next to her. She laid her head upon his shoulder and closed her eyes, listening to the gentle and familiar melody before joining in on the last verse.

“Know that I'm with you The only way that I can be Until you're in my arms again Remember me”

The sound of the guitar faded as their voices did, leaving them in silence aside from the crackling of the fire. She snuggled up against him, settling into his side as his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. She felt the press of his lips to the crown of her head and the soft whisper of “It will be alright little one. We will always be here for you and you will always be in our hearts.”

“I know Dad.” She replied with a content sigh, a smile on her lips. “I know.”

~

She returned to Dagrun too late to say goodbye. Mother’s eyes were red and puffy, the goddess out of tears to shed. Helgrind stood beside her, a hand upon her shoulder. “Martha,” Ianite sighed, stepping away from Helgrind to gather her daughter in her arms. Tears welled in Martha’s eyes but she blinked them away before they could fall. He’d left before. Never quite this far before but she knew he would return or at least do everything in his power to return. He wouldn’t abandon them. 

Martha did not cry until she was alone in her bed. She sang under her breath, so soft that she could barely hear herself over each stuttering inhale and hiccup. 

“For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart I sing a secret song to you Each night we are apart”

She hugged her pillow close as she closed her eyes, ignoring the fabric that was damp from her tears and imagining the calm plucking of guitar strings to lull her to sleep.

When Mother left less than a week later, Martha had no song to share with her. Only a hug and kiss to her temple and a promise that she would return when she was needed. 

Martha left Dagrun with no promises of her own. 

~

As they stood on the edge of the portal, Martha’s thoughts turned back to her family. Beside her was her nephew and across the portal, the alternate of her father. Who else did she have? Who else could she have? Her mother and brother were dead. Her father, missing in a far flung dimension, ages prior. She knew he was still alive, Mot had said as much, but the odds of her seeing him again? She didn’t allow herself to even stoke the fire of hope. 

They leapt and then they were falling and falling and falling and falling...

~

She opened her eyes to a sandy beach at the base of a hill. She saw the rest of them beside her, Andor, Mot, Dianite, and all the heroes. Well at least they were together. Jericho got to his feet, mouth falling open in awe. “You guys. We’re home!” 

They embraced one another while Martha herself stood, helping Andor to his feet. “Where are we?” He asked. 

“I’m not sure.” She admitted. “But based on their reaction, I’d imagine this is the realm they came from.” 

“But isn’t that where Grandpa-” He trailed off as a trio on horseback crested the hill above them. All three wore full armor and rode armored horses but she could just make out their faces beneath their helmets. She blinked and almost immediately her eyes stung as tears welled within them. He was older, his facial hair far more grey than she remembered, but it was him. 

“Dad?” She breathed in shock. Andor turned to look at her, his eyes wide, then back at Spark. 

“Alyssa!” Mot cheered, rushing forward as the shortest figure leapt from her horse with a cry of relief. 

The reunions broke off into groups, Mot and Dianite hugging Alyssa while Jeriah introduced himself to the heroes. Spark however, hesitated. He climbed down from his horse and removed his helmet, his eyes fixated on Martha. 

“Martha?” His eyebrows were furrowed and mouth slightly agape. “It can’t be.” He dropped his helmet in the sand as he approached, hands shaking. “You- But I felt- How is this-” She felt the edges of her lips turn up and emotion well up within her. He was here. After so many years. 

Her father stopped in front of her, eyes shimmering behind his glasses. He lifted a hand towards her, as though he wanted to cup her cheek but was afraid to touch her. “She said that world was gone, that everything and everyone had been lost. I thought-”

“I”m here Dad.” She assured him with a shaky smile, the crinkle of her eyes finally allowing the tears to fall. She pressed his hand to her face and softly whispered “Remember me. Though I have to say goodbye. Remember me. Don't let it make you cry.”

Spark gasped out a wracking sob of astonishment  and pressed his other hand to her cheek. He joined in her whispered song, pressing his forehead to hers “For even if I'm far away. I hold you in my heart. I sing a secret song to you. Each night we are apart.” And oh how the sound of his voice made her heart soar in relieved joy.  

They sang the rest of their song together, the words quiet and distorted between hiccups and sobs. 

“Remember me Though I have to travel far Remember me Each time you hear a sad guitar

Know that I'm with you The only way that I can be Until you're in my arms again Remember me”

They’d fallen to their knees together in the sand, holding onto each other in desperate need to be near. The last family each other had. The others had paused to watch the tearful reunion, with very few dry eyes among them. Hesitantly Andor took a step closer and with a wide smile Spark gestured for him to join them in their embrace. 

“Until you’re in my arms again.” Spark murmured into Martha’s hair, squeezing his daughter and grandson tightly.

“Remember Me.” The Ianite of Ruxomar finished, watching the reunion of her family with a smile from the heavens above. 

[lumberpond34]

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[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 13 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene go to the temple of mammon, Studio 54.

“You look,” Gene said, throat drier than sandpaper, “really good.”

Good was an understatement. Paul looked hot. The light blue of the dress made a good contrast against his still-suntanned skin. The neckline made up for the dress length, providing more cleavage than Gene had seen out of Paul since he’d first met him on the front porch in the bathrobe. The heels accentuated his legs—even as a guy, Paul had always had nice legs—but for maybe the first time in three days, Gene was paying more attention to Paul’s face than his body.

It wasn’t like he’d done anything wild with makeup. Blush, red lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara. Except for the eyeliner maybe being a bit heavier, it was about the same look as the night prior. But Paul seemed happier. Relaxed. There wasn’t that tightness to his jaw anymore or that tension to his mouth. And that was a surprise, given the stilted way their dancing earlier had ended. Gene thought Paul might have been sore or tetchy, or at least awkward, but he’d just carried right on. Those sad brown eyes of his didn’t look sad at all, for once, and if Gene were sentimental, he would almost have said they were sparkling.

Maybe he’d just liked sharing a few dances with Gene. And maybe tonight really was the night that this would all be over. Every bit of it. Back to normal life for them both, touring and signing and interviewing. Back to life a hotel room away from each other. He’d be stupid to regret the change. Just stupid.

“You’re not half so bad yourself, Gene.” Paul crooked his head as if he hadn’t seen variations of his outfit at least a dozen times over just this year. As if he hadn’t been suggesting half of it while Gene had asked for the clothes to be sent over. Black leather everything, including the pants—something he already was regretting bitterly. Silver accessories. A belt with a spider encased in enamel as the buckle plate. The public demanded a monster movie out of Gene even when he got off the stage.

“That’s generous.” The limo was already idling in Paul’s driveway. “You ready?”

It took a few seconds for Paul to answer. He wasn’t looking at Gene, at least, not directly in the face; it almost seemed as though Paul was scoping him out, assessing him like there was something new to assess. Gene would have called him out on it, except during times like this, he never was sure if it was Paul’s hearing or Paul’s daydreaming to blame.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The limo ride was uneventful. Gene decided he didn’t care for Studio 54 long before they pulled up to the VIP entrance. He decided that through the line wrapping around the building for what seemed like miles, the garish outfits of the wannabes begging for admittance, and the weird air of desperation mixed with eagerness that seemed to permeate through the limo windowpane. It made him feel itchy. Beside him, Paul had spent a bit of time doodling peace signs and dicks in the misted-up windowglass like it was a school notebook. His good mood didn’t seem to dampen until the limousine stopped, and he saw the press, out there already, all cameras and notepads.

“Gene—”

“It’s fine, I’ve got my bandana.” He’d forgotten to ask for it over the phone, but it’d been in the box of clothes for him anyway. A couple of them, actually. “Do you want one?”

Paul shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. Switch spots with me, would you?”

Gene swapped obligingly. The limo wasn’t roomy enough to avoid Paul brushing up against him as they traded seats. He caught the woodsy scent of Aramis cologne in Paul’s hair, just another indication of what he’d spent three days pounding into his head now.

“Want me to hold the door for you, too?”

“God, no.”

Gene laughed, and got out first. The bandanas always made him feel like he was about to rob a bank. Every so often, they’d get goofy with it, find weird headgear—knight and astronaut and football helmets—but for the most part, bandanas and scarves were enough out in public, real public. Places where they wanted to be seen, under normal circumstances. The first half-dozen camera flashes were blinding as always. He helped Paul out of the limo, hovering over him as he stepped out. Part of him wished he’d thought to bring a jacket, but maybe that would’ve made it worse, provoked the paparazzi more, if he’d tried covering Paul up too much.

“You okay?” he asked, as the crowd shuddered and swarmed around them. A horde, just a horde, worse than the CBGB crowd ever considered being. Fans would want an autograph or a lay. The press only ever wanted blood.

“I’m fine, I’m—”

“Mr. Simmons!” A woman reporter called out, touching his free arm. “Can I have just a moment?”

“No,” he said, brushing past, his hold on Paul’s arm only getting tighter. Walking quickly, not making eye contact, until the line—there was a line, unbelievably, for VIPs—forced him to stop. Paul had his head half-buried against his shoulder for the whole duration of their wait, tensing with every camera flash and intrigued leer. Gene realized, offhand, that the attention wasn’t pissing Paul off the way it had at CBGB. Instead, it was scaring him.

It made sense, he supposed. CBGB wasn’t nearly important enough to have reporters and cameramen about. They didn’t have big names there, either, no one that Paul would’ve really worried about bumping into. Paul had said earlier that he didn’t think he could pull off talking to someone that knew him, and Gene suspected he was right. Gene suspected an interviewer was even further beyond him at this point.

He’d expected to just be let in once they arrived at the velvet-roped entrance, not really believing Paul’s claims about exclusivity, but instead, a broad-shouldered kid with a grin held them up at the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Gene echoed, and shoved down his bandana. On wry automatic, he held up his free hand—full of rings, including the skull one that the teenyboppers seemed fascinated by—as if it was a secret signal. The doorman blinked, unconvinced. Gene could hear Paul snort beside him. “I’m Gene Simmons from KISS, and the—lovely Miss Eisen and I would—”

Still smiling, the doorman pointed at his own tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” But Gene stuck it out anyway. The kid’s expression didn’t change much as he opened the door to let them in. Gene pocketed his bandana, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Paul until they were on the VIP floor, and hopefully beyond the bulk of the press’ touch, and even then, he didn’t let go. Paul looked a little shaken up, anyway, though Gene couldn’t blame him. It was a different beast from last night, for all their objective hadn’t changed.

“Don’t worry. They won’t have gotten any good shots,” Gene said.

“That may not matter. Depends on who else is here.” Paul sighed, worming his arm out from Gene’s, shifting to hold his hand instead. No hesitation. He was getting accustomed to it. So was Gene.

Gene stole a glance Paul’s way before really taking a look at the scene, trying to absorb New York’s hottest discotheque, decide if the interior impressed him any more than the exterior. He decided it didn’t. Maybe too promptly. But the flashing lights, the blaring music—all that was ostensibly no different from CBGB, or any other bar or club; it was just a matter of size and budget and spectacle. It didn’t matter if someone was worth ten bucks or ten million; they all looked the same passed out on the floor. Enough of them were already that Gene couldn’t quite believe they’d gotten to Studio 54 on time.

“What do you think, Gene?”

“You liked it here?”

The VIP floor was covered in lounge furniture, long couches and glass-topped tables. The carpets were dirty, and the smell of booze was heavier in the air than Gene had experienced in years. Probably not since that ill-fated Hotter than Hell shoot when they’d first started off, the one that had very nearly ended with—well. Gene wasn’t in the mood to consider that one, not given Paul’s current shape.

But almost every square inch of the place was smothered in people. Hollywood giants, of vintage and modern flavors. He saw Liz Taylor—wild, to see Cleopatra in the flesh, nearly fifteen years out from the role and easily fifty pounds heavier. He saw Michael Jackson, making moon-eyes as usual at Diana Ross. Poor, hopeless kid. He could’ve sworn he saw Truman Capote, hitting on a well-muscled, shirtless bartender. And all around the giants were the hangers-on and the hopefuls and the arm candies of the duration. Transvestites in g-string bikinis, lesbians in suits. It was viscerally strange, the sheer variety. No one was paying them much mind yet, aware, somehow, that they were too sober to be worth noticing. Paul cleared his throat, defensive.

“Well, yeah, I like it. It’s kind of wild, yeah, but—”

Three feet from them, a producer was puking straight onto the carpet, while a Playboy bunny rubbed the top of his head. On top of one of the tables, a guy was snorting a line of coke straight down a naked girl’s breasts, and as he kept sliding, Gene realized that the powder ran all the way down, bisecting her torso.

“Paul, this is a cesspool.”

 “C’mon, you’ve seen this shit before.”

“Not all at once.” Gene shook his head. “You’re not even into it. Why would you go here?” He understood it for Ace and Peter, as drugged-up as they’d get. He didn’t understand it for Paul. What was he trying to accomplish? What would it really matter, getting with the big names right in their stomping grounds, when those names were so trashed that they were useless? I want to belong somewhere, that was what he’d said. But this somewhere wasn’t it.

 “I just—”

“Mr. Simmons!” came a voice out of the din, eager and excitable. Not a VIP. The tone was too innocent, too close to admiring. Gene turned around.

“I’m not doing auto—”

“Mr. Simmons! I work for Mr. Rubell! I’m one of the doormen!” The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, blondish and broad-shouldered. “Sorry I didn’t get you at the door, we’ve got a couple new guys, they don’t know—but listen, we’re all looking for that Carol chick!”

“Good.”

“We’ll tell Mr. Stanley when we see him, too.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman nodded, making an awkward salute before heading back. Obliquely, Gene wondered if Bill and Sean had checked Studio 54 out yet. Rubell seemed to have a hiring preference in line with their tastes. He turned to Paul again.

“Looks like they got the memo. You wanna sit down?”

“I… maybe for a minute.” Paul’s eyes darted around, searching for an empty table. Gene looked, too, but he didn’t see one. No corners they could tuck themselves into—not that a corner would’ve been great for keeping a lookout for Carol. Gene felt Paul squeeze his hand. Shot nerves already. Gene could tell that much before Paul spoke again. “If I can keep from talking to anybody, that’d be great.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be that lucky,” Gene said dryly, spying a tall man getting up out of his chair and waving them over.

“If it isn’t Gene Simmons!” the man called out in a distinctively non-American accent. Even if he hadn’t spoken, the feathered brown hair and bright smile would’ve made it obvious. It was Barry Gibb, holding a glass of champagne. “I thought your band was back on the road!”

“Barry, hey,” Gene said, sticking out his hand on automatic. Barry shook it exuberantly. “You’re a few weeks early for that one. How are you?”

Paul looked a bit like he wanted to die on the spot. Barry didn’t seem to notice.

“Great, great. My little brother, Andy…” if possible, Barry’s beaming increased, “he’s just released a single. It’s a guaranteed hit.”

“Really? I think I’d heard he had his own group in Australia—”

“Zenta! You do keep up!” Barry clasped his shoulder. “No, that’s done with now. He’s doing some fantastic solo work…”

Despite the meaningful, sour glances Paul kept throwing his way, Gene’s interest was piqued enough at the thought of a hit, and the thought of a worthwhile contact—the time or two they’d met in passing prior, Barry had been just about this congenial, so Gene didn’t think he was drunk—that he accepted Barry’s invitation to sit down. The next twenty minutes were filled with shop talk, Barry sending off for a Coke for Gene and a whiskey highball for Paul (Gene suspected Paul took Barry up on the offer as payback rather than an actual desire to drink, since he barely touched it), and praise Gene had a hard time fully enjoying.

“My son loves KISS, you know,” Barry said at one point. “He’s never gotten half so excited over our albums.”

“Really? How old is he?” Gene took a sip of his Coke, leaning forward. “We’ll have Casablanca send him something. We have a whole catalog of new merchandise in the works.”

“He’ll be four in December.”

Paul, who had stayed mostly silent up until that point, looked mortified.

“Four?” he almost wailed. Barry seemed amused.

“Oh, love, it’s not an insult. I wish we had that kind of mass appeal behind us.”

“Gene, this—we’ve got to talk to Bill, Gene, we just can’t—I know we don’t get taken seriously, but for God’s sake—”

Under the table, Gene nudged Paul’s bare ankle with his boot. Paul flushed and cut himself off abruptly. Barry glanced over at Paul, then took a swallow of champagne.

“The youth market's the best one to be in, Polly. I've been in this industry long enough to promise you that."

“What, ten years?”

“Next year it’ll be twenty.” Barry got up, shaking both their hands. “I hate to leave you too abruptly, but I’m to meet up with Maurice in a bit. Great to meet you, Polly, great to see you again, Gene.”

“Yeah. And I do mean it, about the merch. We’ve got dolls—”

“Oh, Steve’d love them. Thank you.” Another bright smile, and Barry headed off. Paul let out a groan as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Twenty years,” he mumbled, slumping forward, propping his head up with his hand. “How the hell was I supposed to know the Bee Gees have been at it for twenty years?”

“I didn’t, either,” Gene admitted.

“Fuck, how old is Barry, anyway? Peter’s age?”

“I have no idea.”

“At least he’s not gonna see me again like this. God, he thought I was a jackass…” Paul sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t take it personally. Barry’s a good guy.”

“Twenty years stuck with his brothers. I’m amazed they haven’t killed each other.” Paul got up, stepping away from the table, and Gene followed suit. “Think we can get a better look around without getting interrupted? I couldn’t see anything from here.”

Just from a cursory glance, Gene doubted it. Most of the other tables were full or near-full, and no good for people-watching. They’d be better off on the floor.

“We’re going to have to stand to see.” Gene started to take Paul’s arm again, almost on automatic, but a glance at his shoulder stopped him. “Did you get another bra?”

“What?”

Gene pressed a finger against the purple strap hanging past Paul’s sleeve. Paul shook his head, looking abashed.

 “No, this is… this is just the nightie.”

Paul’s cheeks were going a little pink. That pink went straight to red when Gene tugged the strap back into place for him. He had to push Paul’s hair back and turn up his sleeve in order to fix the strap up again to his shoulder, under the dress. His skin was soft, dotted with a handful of moles Gene hadn’t ever really noticed before. There was the pitted smallpox vaccination scar, and the tattoo, of course, the green stem peeking a little past his sleeve. Gene’s fingers lingered longer than they needed to on his arm before he remembered himself enough to pull back.

“The nightie? Why are you wearing that here?”

The redness in Paul’s face wasn’t anywhere near abating.

“Because I didn’t buy a slip. This dress is thinner than I thought.”

“I bet it looks cute on.”

Paul fidgeted, starting to adjust the strap himself, fiddling with the slider.

“Thought you said you just liked what was underneath.”

“Well, that’s the main event, but you’ve got to say something for packaging—"

“Keep pushing it and you won’t find out.”

“I’ll take the chance.” Gene grinned. “Dance with me.”

 He said it on impulse, almost airily. The song blaring through the speakers—some new funk bit from Marvin Gaye was already midway through. Paul put one hand on Gene’s shoulder. Still worried about what people thought of him, even in a place like this. A place where no one would’ve even given much of a shit about them dancing if Paul was like he ought to be. And yet here Paul was, thinking anyone’d care about a girl leading a guy. Gene shook his head, taking Paul’s arm and moving it to his waist.

“No, you lead.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

The driving, pulsating bassline and wailing saxophone were such a far cry from the CSNY album they’d danced to in Paul’s basement. There was a flippant, overly sexual air to disco that was kind of fascinating. More marketable than their own sordid stuff. Gene didn’t know if KISS would try and ride the wave—they’d talked about it, and Paul had tossed around a few song lyrics—but it hadn’t come to much yet. Might ruin their image. Might solidify it.

Step by step. Paul was stiffer on the dance floor than he’d been in the basement. Partially because of how he had to keep shifting them both around, to avoid dancing into other couples, or stepping on passed-out partiers. But there was more to it than that. His lips were pursed, as if he didn’t quite know how to handle the song. Maybe, for once, he was listening to the lyrics.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

A little sweat was clinging to Paul’s brow, and a little more to Paul’s palm, enclosed in his. He hadn’t tried anything close to fancy, not even any turns or spins. He’d seen Paul do better than this just a few hours ago. Nerves. Except the only time Paul didn’t nerve out was in front of an audience. And this audience was too wasted to care if the two of them were tearing up the dancefloor or stumbling through each step. Paul’s tongue was poking out between his teeth again, and he wasn’t looking Gene in the face, and he wasn’t looking around the room.

Something warm was spreading in Gene, the longer he looked at Paul, the longer they danced. Stepped in time, more like. That concentration made his features seem almost sweet. Paul’s hand on his waist was fidgeting, like he’d forgotten how to hold it. Gene squeezed his shoulder, and Paul raised his head, finally, as Gene cleared his throat to speak.

“Hey. What’d you say dancing was earlier?”

Paul blinked, caught off guard enough that he stopped moving.

“Getting a feel for your partner. Mirroring them.”

“That’s right.” Gene exhaled. His fingers inched up past Paul’s shoulder, touching his cheek for a brief second before returning to his shoulder again. “Could you mirror something for me, then? Right now.”

“Yeah.” Paul had turned his head towards Gene’s hand. Was looking right at him, all big dark eyes and red lips. Red lips that were twitching up, suddenly, in the faintest ghost of a smile. “What do you want to—"

Gene inclined his head and met Paul’s lips with his own.

Paul kissed back instantly. Greedily. Gene was almost taken aback. It wasn’t ferocious so much as desperate, as though all his pent-up energy was suddenly given just a single release. Paul’s tongue licked across Gene’s lips for entrance before Gene could even get there first, hot and overwhelming. Gene dropped his hold on Paul’s hand to cup his smooth, soft jaw, fingers careful not to brush too far past it. His fingertips caught onto Paul’s curls, stiff with hairspray, yet they still somehow felt good against his fingers. The scent of his cologne, emanating off his hair and neck, was almost overwhelming, cologne and sweat and something else; for an insane moment Gene felt like he could almost smell the want on him.

Paul tightened his grip on Gene’s waist, pulling him forward until their bodies were flush. Gene’s hard-on was getting unbearable, pressing up against Paul nearly worse than no relief, because of all the things wasn’t. Gene couldn’t think straight. Could barely let himself remember who was kissing him so ardently, who he was kissing back, whose lipstick was smearing against his mouth and jaw and neck—

Gene only pulled back to get a breath in. Paul’s hand had sunk below Gene’s waist, groping at his ass through the leather fabric. Paul kept shoving his hips against him, friction that didn’t really quite manage to hit its target. Too much of a height difference. They could fix that. Fuck, they could fix that right here in the disco, in one of those basement rooms—he could fuck Paul there, against the wall, or on the floor; he didn’t care, anywhere. He murmured against Paul’s neck, lapping and kissing, not quite daring to leave a mark against his skin. Gene barely felt Paul’s ankle latch around his boot, almost as if he was laying claim, but it warmed him, nearly as much as Paul’s little hitches for breath, the needy press of his lips against his skin. Gene grunted, fingers tightening on Paul’s hair, intending on tugging him back in for another kiss when Paul’s expression shifted, dilated, glassy eyes suddenly going wide, whole body tight as piano wire. His foot went back into place on the floor, stiff as a soldier, hands seeming frozen on Gene. The color was starting to drain from his face.

“Paul? What’s wrong?”

It must have hit him. His brain must have caught up with his libido faster than Gene’s had. Gene started to let go, feeling his brow furrow, a little, hopeless shame twitching in his gut, but then Paul grabbed onto him harder, shaking his head.

“It’s not you. It’s not you, I swear.” One hand withdrew, just to point. Gene couldn’t follow Paul’s finger at first, with the slew of people, but finally he caught sight of the blond doorman from earlier, ushering someone forward, towards them. Someone cute, but not beautiful. Not a VIP. Someone he knew wouldn’t belong on her own here, any more than Paul did.

A small young woman with light brown hair.

“She’s here.”

[hot-tea-gardenparty]

Destiel Coda to 15.10 "The Heroes Journey"

Cas needed to stop looking at him like that.  It was dangerous.

It made his stomach flutter with millions of butterflies, his chest feel heavy and his heart beat faster than when he runs up the bunker stairs.

Those gorgeous, stupidly intense blue eyes were going to be the death of him. And not just from the physical strain it apparently put on him every single time Castiel looked his way.

“What?” he asked softly over the neck of the beer bottle at his lips, trying to stare just as intensely back, albeit he wasn’t sure if he was able to accomplish it with how much Castiel was effecting him.

Cas shook his head, “I’m sorry you were kicked in the scrotum.”

Dean choked on his sip of beer, sputtering as it dribbled a bit down his chin and onto the map table, “Right…well…it can happen from time to time.” Wow there went that tension, Dean could practically watch it swirl out of the room. Dean’s heart still raced a bit admittedly, but he figured it was more from almost choking to death rather than his emotional bullshit and strange sensitivity to Cas’ immediate presence. He wiped up the dribbled beer with his arm in an almost subconscious motion. Oh great, now his sleeve was wet.

“So it isn’t a regular occurrence for you?” Castiel asked. Humor laced in his words as he likely found Dean’s nervous fidgeting amusing.

“What, getting kicked in the balls?”

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes, “No.” He leaned back in his chair next to Dean, his beer untouched and sweating on the table in front of him, “Feeling normal. Being just like every other human in existence on Earth.”

Dean shrugged, “Hard to be normal when our lives, by every definition, can’t be classified as normal.” Bringing the beer to his lips for another swig, Dean looked straight ahead, trying to prevent himself from falling under the spell of Castiel’s gaze once again. “But whatever….we gave up on normal a long time ago.”

Dean didn’t need to look at the angel, he could feel the narrowing of Castiel’s eyes and the tilt of his head, “Would that be what you want?” He questioned, leaning forward in his chair, his knees gently tapping against the thick of Dean’s thigh.

“No….I mean, not really…not anymore….” Dean pushed his beer onto the table and turned to face Castiel, “I thought I wanted it for so long…wife, a few kids, white picket fence…a steady everyday job…the whole kit and caboodle.” He cleared his throat, “A few years ago, I could easily picture myself in a life like that and nowadays it all just comes across like a lie I told myself….like a happiness ideal I could never actually get and was stupid to believe in…” Castiel smiled softly and brought a hand to rest on the round of Dean’s shoulder, his silence an acknowledgment of wordless understanding.

They sat still and quiet as the seconds ticked by, beers forgotten and warmed by the heat of the bunker’s stale air. Comfortable in their silent companionship.

Dean needed to say something. Say what he had swallowed in purgatory when he realized it wasn’t the right moment. It wasn’t until they both had gone back into purgatory a few days prior that Dean had finally realized all the feelings he had for his angelic best friend. Realized why he felt so comfortable spewing his proverbial guts out to him time and time again. Dark hair, blue eyes and a tan trench coat was all Dean needed to see in his peripheral vision and immediately warmth would coat his stomach like a sip of sweet hot coffee.  Besides Sam, Castiel made Dean happier than anyone else, calmed him and kept his ship from slipping under water.  Dean had now lived through losing Castiel more times than he could keep track of and each time it was like his legs had been thrown out from underneath him and the world would stop spinning on its axis.

It was in purgatory Dean realized, openly and clearly, that Castiel was his rock, his compass….his home.

A life with an angel….wings, multiple heads, hundreds of eyes, possibly a harp, and all.

His new and true normal.

“That kind of life was when you can last remember living without the burden of hunting and without the knowledge of Chuck’s influence. You were safe and content.” Castiel suddenly said, softness lining his voice like silken thread. “Although, it would be stupid to believe that that type of life is no longer an option.”

Dean had to say it. This may not be the right time, but when would there be a fucking right time? Dean could feel the words bubbling up in his throat, spilling from his lips faster than he could contain them, “Would you stay with me?” Dean’s voice slightly shook as he ran his hands nervously through his hair, “After Chuck….after all of this….would you stay with me?”

Castiel sat up straight in his chair, his face unreadable, “Stay with you?”

Dean nodded, “Yes. Stay with me and build a life together.”

“Dean…I…” Castiel stammered, his palms resting unmoving on his thighs. “I don’t know how to say this but…I made a deal...”

Dean couldn’t hear Castiel’s stuttering, stumbling words, his focus was faced towards the table as his head was filled with nervous buzzing fear and his body raced with hope, “I love you, Cas!”

A beat. Two. Three.

Dean blinked, trying to clear his emotion blurred vision. He couldn’t breathe.

Glancing over cautiously, Dean continued to hold his breath as he finally noticed Castiel sitting stiffly in his chair, his eyes closed and his fingers digging into the meat of his thighs.

“Cas?” Dean asked with a whisper.

A beat. Two. Three.

Suddenly, Castiel’s eyes opened and once again Dean fell under their spell. They looked brighter, clearer, like the purest of ice from an Antarctic glacier.

Castiel stood from his chair, knocking it backwards as he grabbed Dean’s biceps, lifting him up and sealing their lips together in a rough, heated kiss. It was slightly uncoordinated and messy, Castiel’s teeth clacking against Dean’s and their coordination off at first, but it was still the best kiss Dean had ever had.  Dean quickly ran a hand up into the hair at the nape of Castiel’s neck, the other hand finding its way around Castiel’s waist underneath his trench coat and suit jacket, palming hot and steady on the jut of his hip.

Pulling away, Castiel smiled, his lips slicked with spit and kiss swollen, “I love you too, Dean.”

Before Dean could blink, Castiel continued, “And I am so sorry.”

It was like he had evaporated...one minute he was there, holding onto Dean, smiling and kissing him and the next he wasn’t. In his place, far too close to Dean, stood a humanoid figure made of shimmering, viscous liquid the color of charcoal. A haunting smile carved into the figure where the mouth should have been was its only discerning feature.  Dean felt an invisible hand pushing him back into the mouth of the chair he’d been pulled out of, somehow feeling further away from the figure and, to his horror, further away from Castiel.

Dean heard Castiel shout his name, saw a brief flash of the humanoid figure stepping closer to Castiel, its smile getting wider, as Dean’s vision was temporarily blinded from the bright burst of light emanating from the figure as he evaporated into nothing.

He landed roughly onto his ass in the same spot they had been kissing in just a few seconds before, frantically searching the empty room in disbelief.

“Cas NO!” Dean shouted as he scrambled from the floor, standing in the spot the man he loved had once been.…

He lost him. Again.

Thanks for reading! ^-^ 

[kristannastuff]

The Post-Holiday Surprise

A/N: I don't know if I'll be doing kristanna advent or not, but I have been writing a heck ton of kristanna fanfics lately so we'll see. Anyway, this is just a cute, fluffy, (probably too) cheesy kristanna fic for your Monday that I wrote last night instead of sleeping so I was at work all day hating my life.😜

Find it here: [ff.net] or [AO3]

WC: 1,875

Rating: K+

Summary: Anna is feeling extra tired after the holidays and Kristoff is concerned. Both of them are surprised to find out why.

The Christmas season had been wonderful- truly everything Anna had wanted and more. The uninterrupted time she had been able to spend with her family had been just what she needed after working seemingly nonstop for the past year since she had become queen. The last time she had had such a long break was after she and Kristoff had gotten married that summer and they had gone on a three-week trip for their honeymoon. Now, however, the holidays were over and things were getting busy once again for the young queen. Which seemed backwards to her as overseeing events such as the ringing of the Yule bell and the annual Christmas party the palace now held were major events that took a lot of time and effort. Maybe the difference was that Christmas was Anna's favorite time of year so those things didn't really seem like work to her. Or maybe having Elsa at the palace for a few weeks in a row was what made it all seem less overwhelming. She had missed her sister as they hadn't had as much time to spend together prior to the holidays. Elsa had truly grown in so many ways over the last year and few months since she had taken on her role as the fifth spirit. Her powers had grown, and Anna had never seen her happier. Not to mention, Anna was thriving herself as queen. And with Kristoff by her side, she truly felt there was nothing she couldn't accomplish. Yes, she was thriving. That is, she had been up until the past few weeks. Maybe it was post-holiday burnout or maybe she was getting sick. Anna wasn't really sure, but it was beginning taking a toll. Kristoff had noticed, but Anna insisted she was fine. Because she was. Just tired. So, so tired- "Your Majesty?" Anna jumped, sitting up suddenly. She cleared her throat, facing General Mattias- who was sitting in the chair across from her- once again. "Yes, General, you were saying?" "We were looking at the blueprints for the new bridge on the southside of town," he supplied, indicating the parchment that was rolled out across her desk. "Yes, o-of course." "Queen Anna, are you feeling all right?" Anna nodded. "Of course, I am, Mattias. Why would you ask such a thing?" "Well, because you just fell asleep. And you have a little something-" he pointed to his mouth. Anna mirrored his actions only to find drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. "Perhaps we should finish this some other time," Mattias suggested. Anna opened her mouth to protest but then nodded instead. "Perhaps you're right." "And if I may suggest, you go lie down for a while? With all due respect, ma'am, you look- tired." She certainly felt tired. "Yes, I- I think I will. Thank you, Mattias." With that, Anna waited for him to exit the room before standing herself. She made her way out into the hall and up to her and Kristoff's bedchambers. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she needed to stop and catch her breath, feeling quite winded. 'What is wrong with me?' She wondered to herself. As soon as she was in the privacy of her room, she immediately kicked her shoes off, took off her crown, and laid down on the bed. It wasn't long at all before sleep claimed her. "Anna," a soft, deep voice pulled her out of her sleep. She opened her eyes to see Kristoff sitting next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?" Her husband asked, rubbing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I've been better," Anna admitted. Kristoff moved his hand from her cheek to her forehead. "Hmm," he said, frowning, "you don't seem to be running a fever." "I'm sure it's nothing," Anna told him, taking his hand and kissing the back of it. "Well, if you're getting sick, you need to take care of yourself. Maybe I should call for the doctor." "Kristoff," Anna said, sitting up, "it's nothing. I'm just tired. That's it." "If you're sure-" he replied, although he didn't look very convinced. "I am." She kissed his hand again. "What time is it?" "It's a little after six. I asked Gerda to bring up a tray up for you. Are you hungry at all?" He asked, reaching over to transfer the tray from the side table to her lap. Anna frowned, realizing that she wasn't- a very rare occurrence for her. "Not really." "When was the last time you ate?" Kristoff asked. "Umm, this morning at breakfast?" Anna answered timidly, realizing she had skipped lunch. "Anna." "What?" She asked. "Are you sure you're all right? You're tired and not hungry. Neither of those things are normal for you." She shrugged. "I know." "How long have you felt this way?" He asked. Before she could answer however, he added, "And be honest with me." "A week or so. Not long." "A week is six days too long," Kristoff said, standing. "I'm going to call for the doctor." Anna set the tray aside, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. "Kristoff, honey, you're overreacting. I'm fine." "And I just want to make sure of that," he replied. Anna bit her lip. "I know. But let's not disturb him tonight. He's probably eating his dinner." "There's more than one doctor in Arendelle," Kristoff said. "Kristoff." "All right," he replied, picking up the tray and setting it on her lap once again. "But you need to at least try to eat some of this while I go draw you a bath." "Excuse me sir, you are speaking to the queen of Arendelle." Kristoff smirked. "Oh, I am well aware of who I'm speaking to." He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her lips. "Aren't you afraid you'll catch my diseases?" Anna teased. "I'll take my chances," Kristoff replied before his lips met hers again briefly. "Now eat." Anna smiled up at him. "Yes sir." A few minutes later, after Anna had managed to finish about half of her dinner, she went into the adjoining bathroom where Kristoff had just finished preparing her bath. Anna soaked for a long time in the tub while Kristoff washed her hair and then massaged the knots out of her neck and shoulders. He even insisted on carrying her back to bed which was almost necessary given how relaxed she now felt. "I feel like a little kid," Anna joked after Kristoff had successfully tucked her into bed- a little too snugly, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Kristoff climbed into bed next to her and she cuddled close to him, craving his warmth. "Thank you," she whispered a few minutes later. Kristoff stroked her still-damp hair. "For what?" "For always taking care of me." He kissed her forehead. "You don't need to thank me for that. It's my privilege as your husband to take care of you in any way that I can." Anna yawned, feeling sleep coming closer and closer. "I love you-" she yawned again, "so much." Kristoff wrapped his arms around her tighter. "I love you too." The next morning, Anna reached for her husband, seeking his wamrth against the early-morning January chill, but his side of the bed was cold. 'Darn him,' Anna thought when she realized that it actually wasn't early-morning and the sun was quite high in the sky. How long had he let her sleep? She was just about to crawl out of bed when the door opened and in walked Kristoff. "You're awake," he said, going over to sit next to her. "How are you feeling?" "Not as tired," Anna replied, "that's for sure. How long did you let me sleep?" "It's almost eleven," Kristoff replied. Anna sat up on her knees. "Almost elev- Kristoff Bjorgman! I have a million things to do today!" "Woah there, fesitypants. No, you don't," Kristoff replied. "The only thing you have to do today is rest. Mattias and I took care or are in the process of taking care of everything else. Are you ready for the Doctor now?" "I just told you, I feel better." "No, you said 'not as tired'." Anna rolled her eyes. She slumped back against the pillows, crossing her arms. "Fine. Send him in." Kristoff kissed her forehead and made his way to the door. "I'll be right back. Better safe than sorry." "You sound like an old mother hen." Kristoff turned and smirked at her before exclaiming, "Cluck, cluck!" He just barely had time to shut the door behind him before Anna sent a pillow flying in his direction. Kristoff glanced up at the clock. The doctor had been in there for a while now. He would've stayed with Anna had he not been needed elsewhere. One thing was for certain, filling in for her certainly wasn't easy. "Kristoff," Mattias said, entering the room through the open door. "You had better come quickly. The doctor is finished and the queen is- well, she's apparently in a very emotional state." Kristoff pushed away from Anna's desk, hitting his knee on the corner of it. Barely noticing, he followed Mattias out of the study and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Why oh why hadn't he insisted she see the doctor last night? Why had he let her sleep in so long this morning when she could've seen the doctor sooner? As soon as he was at the top of the stairs, he rushed down the hallway toward their bedchambers. The doctor was just exiting their room. "Doctor-" "Your wife wishes to speak with you," was all he said and Kristoff pushed past the man and entered their bedroom. Anna was a sobbing mess, her face in her hands. Kristoff rushed over to sit next to her. "Anna, sweetheart?" Anna looked up at him then and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing harder. "Oh, Kristoff." "What? Wha-what is it?" He asked, very confused and concerned by all of this. "Oh Kristoff," Anna repeated, pulling away only to fall into his arms again. Kristoff had no idea what was going on, but he held his wife while she cried, trying to remain calm. "Anna," he said finally, not able to take it anymore. He took her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears. "What's the matter?" "N-nothing's the matter." 'Oh thank God,' he thought. But he was still confused. He took Anna's hands in his. "Well, I'm relieved nothing's wrong too, sweetheart, but why are you crying so much?" "Oh, Kristoff," she repeated for the third time, but this time it was followed by something he was not expecting. "Because I'm going to have a baby." "You're- wait, what?" Anna smiled through her tears. "I'm pregnant." "W-with a baby?" "That's typically how these things work." He gave himself a little shake. "I'm sorry, I just- a baby?" "We're gonna have a baby," Anna said. Kristoff couldn't say anything else. He didn't know what to say. Words weren't necessary however, as he pulled Anna close, his lips meeting hers. "A baby," he said at last, smiling at her between kisses.

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (5)

Miraculous Whine and Cheese Club

---

After a couple days Marinette was finding herself well accommodated to her new school. She kinda knew where she was going from class to class, and had some nice new friends. Nanette and Quinn had basically adopted her and Kagami was always there with an open seat in classes. She had a routine which made everything easier to digest.

Wake up, go to school, hang out with friends, go home, have dinner, do homework, text Adrien, go to sleep.

That was another thing. Adrien and Marinette hadn’t seen one another since she transferred schools but they texted every night now. Usually about how their day had been. Small talk and dumb jokes. It was nice. Talking to him before she fell asleep was a perfect way to end her night.

This night was no exception. Marinette’s phone pinged with a new message from Adrien.

Do you wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

Her heart sped a little at the thought of seeing him again after so long apart.

Sounds great!

Marinette responded.

Great! Where do you wanna go?

My friend Nanette’s parents own a cute little cafe halfway between the schools. The Winking Violet. Sound good?

Sounds perfect! See you there!

Goodnight, Adrien

Goodnight, Marinette

Marinette let herself a small squee of joy before plugging her phone in to charge and going to sleep.

The next day Marinette headed over to the cafe. Nanette’s moms, whom Marinette had gotten to see a lot of these past couple days, saved a nice table inside. It was raining so the outdoor seating was closed which was a shame since it was great for people watching.

“Marinette?” Marinette looked up to see Aurore. “Hi, I thought that was you.”

“Hi, Aurore, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Looking for a part-time job. No one is hiring weather girls so I thought I’d try my hand at waitressing.” Aurore shrugged, “What are you doing here?”

“Getting lunch with Adrien. Did you want to join us?” Marinette offered.

“I don’t want to intrude on your date.”

“It’s not a date. We’re just catching up.” Marinette’s face lit up with the mention of the word ‘date’. “I haven’t seen him since I transferred. I haven’t really talked to you either so I’d rather like it if you stayed.”

“Well…” Aurore looked out at the downpour before pulling up a chair at the little glass table. “I have missed you.”

The girls got to talking and were sipping some warm tea when Adrien finally showed up. “Sorry I’m late. It took me forever to convince father to let me come out for lunch.”

“No problem, Aurore’s been keeping me company.” Marientte nodded to their companion.

“Hey Adrien, I know I wasn’t invited--”

“You’re fine. It’s nice to see you outside of school.” Adrien assured her before sitting down and ordering a hot chocolate. This was turning out to be a better afternoon than Marinette pictured. Good company and a warm drink to sip while the rain pattered outside. It was so cozy.

After they exchanged the usual pleasantries and ordered their food they started to get into the real meat of the afternoon.

“How is your new school?” Aurore asked Marinette.

“Great. The people I’ve met are really nice and the teachers are first rate. Also, no Lila. It’s probably one of the best things to ever happen to me.” Marinette responded through bites of her sandwich.

“UUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!” Adrien threw his head back as he let out a long groan. It would have been funny if not for the multiple heads that swiveled their way.

“What’s going on with him?” Marinette whispered to Aurore.

“Oh, Lila has been dogging his heels ever since you left.” Aurore frowned, “He’s not too happy about it.”

“Oof.” Marinette looked back at Adrien, “How bad has it been?”

“I am trying to be the better person but I cannot keep it up.” Adrien grumbled. “It’s like since you left she thinks she has free reins to do as she pleases. She has practically taken over the school with her lies. She got the seating chart rearranged in class and now I’m stuck next to her in the front row because she convinced Nino to sit behind me with Alya.”

“I am so sorry for you.” Marinette couldn’t imagine the horror going on back at Dupont if Lila was uninhibited. “What else has she done?”

The next half hour was a well needed venting session from Adrien about all the crap Lila had been getting up to since Marinette’s departure. Her lies had somehow gotten even more ludicrous but everyone was stilling buying into them. With some help from Alya, and a lie about being Prince Ali’s go to for second opinions on political decisions, she had taken Marinette’s former position as class president. Not only was she gluing herself to Adrien’s side at every chance she was also furthering her efforts to paint Marinette as a monster. Even after she left she wasn’t done. She wanted to make sure that absolutely no one at Francoise Dupont had any sympathy for Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

First it was that Marinette was using subtle cheats and glitches to make herself a better gamer and not playing fairly in the school gaming tournament months prior. Then it was that she had stolen her derby hat design from a sketch of Lila’s. None of which Lila would even be able to justify because she hadn’t even joined the school at that point! She was just looking for documented cases of Marinette’s accomplishments and trying to debunk them. And the class apparently will just take her word for it because who else would be a good judge of those accomplishments? People who were actually there? Ha!

“Wow.” Marinette sat back and stared at the boy across from her, “You really needed that didn’t you?”

“It has been a long week, Marinette,” Adrien laid his head down on the table, “I am so tired.”

“There there,” Aurore gave his head a pat, “Rest easy sweet prince.”

“It sounds like Lila is on cloud nine.” Marinette muttered into her tea.

“She’s the only one,” Adrien said, his head still on the table, “The rest of the school has been really subdued lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed it too.” Aurore said, “Everyone looks like they’re running on auto-pilot. There’s no life or excitement in anything they do anymore. Even when they’re talking about something fun.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Aurore pushed her salad around in her bowl, “It’s kinda sad really.”

“It’s because Lila drove out our purveyor of optimism and happiness.” Adrien flashed Marinette his big, sad, green eyes. “You can really feel your absence at school.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.” Marinette told him.

“I’m serious. Ever since you left everyone has been either on edge or too tired to care about anything. Just the other day Kim and Max got into a yelling match in the main hall. Ivan and Mylene have practically turned into the couple that stand next to one another but never speak. Marc stopped coming to art class and hasn’t said a word to Nathaneal either. It is the saddest kind of surrealism.”

“You can’t blame all of that on me leaving. It’s getting colder, weather is getting worse, people fall into seasonal funks.” Marinette tried to explain it away.

“Really? You think it is a coincidence that everyone suddenly got worse when you weren’t there? I always said you were our everyday Ladybug and now I’m sure of it. You bring happiness and luck wherever you go. We were lucky to have you in our class. Now that you’re gone it’s like a year’s worth of karma is coming back to haunt us.” Adrien shuddered. “I think it can only get worse.”

“Aurore, tell him he’s being overdramatic.” Marinette rolled her eyes but she was secretly pleased the with the praise.

“No can do. The boy is right.” Aurore said, “You left and you took the class’ morale with you.”

“What about Chloe?” Marinette asked.

“What about her?”

“Chloe knows that Lila is a liar and we all know Chloe isn’t one to take things lying down. I refuse to believe Lila has gotten complete control over the school with Chloe there to butt heads with. What has she been doing?” Adrien and Aurore looked at one another. They hadn’t thought about this. Chloe fought everyone at pretty much every opportunity. Now that she had a new opponent, and Marinette’s blessing to be ruthless with said opponent, why had things gotten so out of control?

“She’s your friend, Agreste.” Aurore leaned back in her chair, “What’s Queen Bee been up to?”

“Chloe…” Adrien sat back and thought about it, “She’s been quiet, actually.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean she’s just been going about the day like everyone else. Not challenging Lila or getting into petty fights with the others. It’s really weird now that I think about it.” Adrien pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. “The last time she messaged me was three days ago. I get texts from her everyday. That’s not right.”

“Do you think she’s fallen into that depression you say the rest of the class is in?” Marinette couldn’t believe her ears. Chloe ‘I’m-the-daughter-of-the-mayor-so-you-must-obey-me’ Bourgeois, was being an amicable classmate?

“No, I think she’s the only one that looks like she’s there for a reason. Everyone else has that aura of, have to be there, surrounding them. Chloe...has energy in her deference. I can’t explain it. It’s like she’s flying under the radar for no reason.”

“Huh,” The three teenagers decided to stop moping about Lila and how much of a bummer Francois Dupont had become and moved onto happier conversation. Mainly it centered around Marinette regaling them with her time at her new school and funny moments from her new friends.

All in all it was a pretty good afternoon.

“I gotta get going,” Aurore stood up, “it was great seeing you again, Marinette.”

“You too, we should find a day to get together again.” Marinette smiled.

“Totally. See you at school, Adrien.” With that Aurore was gone.

“I should be heading back too. I have some catch up work I need to get done.” Marinette pushed her chair in.

“I’ll walk you home.” Adrien opened the door for her.

Thankfully the rain had stopped. The streets had that fresh rain smell and little puddles dotting the pavement that Marinette had to resist the urge to jump in.

"We should do this again." Adrien said, "I miss seeing you every day."

"Yeah?" Marinette felt herself blush once more.

"Yeah," was she delusional or was Adrien blushing too? "I--"

"MARINETTE!"

The next moment a blur of bright pink had tackled her to the ground.

"Oof," Marinette wheezed, "Nanette, I can't breathe."

"Sorry." Nanette stood up, "My mom told me you were in the cafe but I was in the middle of a painting and by the time I found a stopping point you were gone and--holy crap Adrien Agreste!"

"Are you okay?" Adrien helped Marinette up.

"Yep. I've taken harder falls than that." She brushed herself off, "Adrien this is Nanette. Nanette this Adrien."

"Nice to meet you." Adrien smiled at Nanette. 

"You too. Marinette wasn't kidding when she said she knew you."

"Um, Nani," Marinette poked her, "You have paint all over you."

"And?"

Marinette pointed to her blouse now stained with green and blue streaks. "It's still wet."

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Nanette blanched, “I didn’t even think of that!”

“It’s okay. It’s just a little paint.” Marinette assured her. “Actually, I think this is a good excuse to try my hand at hand painting clothing. Maybe give it a water flower design.”

“I’ve done that before.” Nanette said, “I made Quinn a scarf for their birthday once and they loved it. If you want you can come back to my place and work there. I have every color of the rainbow in paint and a killer sound system we can jam to while working.”

“I would love to but I really do need to get home. Tomorrow maybe?” Marinette hated to disappoint her.

“No problem.” She shrugged, “I should let you two continue on your way. It was nice meeting you, Adrien. Marinette talks a lot about you.”

“Nanette!” shrieked through clenched teeth.

“She likes you a lot.”

“That’s good to hear. It would be awkward if she didn’t.” Adrien said placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette didn’t hold out too much hope for his words to mean anything more than liking her as a friend. She loves Adrien but if she was being honest the boy is either too infatuated with Kagami to consider anyone else an option or he’s is really that dense about picking up hints. The only way she could be more blatant about her crush was if she told him she dreamed about marrying him one day.

“AWE!” Nanette gushed, “You two are so cute. Okay, I’ll let you go. Sorry for tackling your girlfriend, Adrien.”

“NANETTE!” Marinette was going to collapse into a puddle of anxiety, “He’s not my--”

“I’ll text you later!” Nanette shouted over her shoulder as she hustled back down the street.

“One of your new friends?” Adrien chuckled unperturbed by Nanette’s comment.

“Yeah, she’s...eccentric.”

“I like her hair. If I was a braver sort I would dye my hair something crazy like that.” Adrien ruffled his golden locks, “You think I could pull off pink hair?”

“I think you could pull off anything.” Marinette answered honestly.

“Even crocs?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

She imagined a pink haired Adrien wearing matching bright pink crocs. Amusing but not great. She shook her head. “Hair? Yes. Crocs? No. No one can. Nope.”

“You said--”

“I don’t care if you are Aphrodite incarnate, no one can pull off crocs! It is a comfort shoe meant to not see the light of day!”

“I’m getting you a pair for Christmas now.”

“I think if you were to spend those big boy model checks on something as abhorrent as crocs your dad would disown you on behalf of the fashion world.”

“Still failing to see a downside.”

“You little,” Marinette smacked his arm and they continued on their way to her house. “At the very least Lila may stop bothering you if you wore them to school.”

“Now I have to get a pair and test that theory.”

“She’s really gotten that bad?”

“You are super lucky that you got out when you did. Homeschooling is looking like the better option nowadays.”

“It’ll get better. For your sake I hope it does.”

“Thanks. I hope so too.” they made it to Marinette’s house and said their goodbyes. Marinette said hello to her parents before shutting herself in her room and changing out of her stained shirt. She set it aside to work on later and went to check her instagram. She scrolled through some pictures of her old friends hanging out. She hadn’t the heart to unfollow any of them yet.

Curious about Adrien’s past statement she went to Chloe’s page. Wow. Adrien wasn’t kidding. Chloe hasn’t posted anything on her social media in days. As someone who flooded her timeline with selfies and designer endorsements this was really weird. The last selfie she posted was her wearing a trilby and holding a magnifying glass up to her eye. The caption read: Detective Bourgeois and the case of Dolos and Aletheia.

What is up with her?

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (6)

[iloveannabeth]

The beginning of something beautiful

Anne held on to the rails of the ferry bringing her back to Charlottetown, feeling happier than she had in weeks. Finally, after overcoming many a painful journey, Anne found what she was looking for. Right before losing all hope, she went to the hospital as a last resort, looking for old patient files. By some miracle the morgue had an extensive system, keeping track of every file dating back 20 years. It took hours of searching but she, along with the incredibly kind worker, found two files. Walter Shirley and Bertha Shirley, both passing of scarlet fever. Held in the palm of her hand was a note inscribed to ‘our darling daughter’. Apparently, it was meant to find Anne at the orphanage but there was an influx of patients at the hospital and they were simply too busy to remember the note.

Anne summoned every ounce of courage she had, forcing the dark thoughts about the possible contents into the back of her mind, and opened the letter. It was quite possibly the best decision she had made over the 16 years of her life. Everything she had ever dreamed of knowing was in that letter. It explained it all; how Anne meant more to them than anything else in the world but there was simply nothing to be done. They didn’t have much time left but they knew that the only thing they wanted was for their child to find love and family and live a long, healthy life.

Anne couldn’t hold back her tears. The only other time she’d felt relief this strong was when she was told she could stay with the Cuthberts. She felt whole again and could now focus on the present. Who is Anne with an e? A daughter who was loved, even if only for a short time. An adopted daughter who will be loved for the rest of her life. An Incredible friend and kindred spirit; the best anyone could hope for. A futur teacher who would guide the next generation with grace and wisdom. Possibly the subject of a tragical romance as well. Only time would tell that tale.

Now, Anne simply couldn’t wait to tell everyone in Avonlea her good news. She would tell Mathew and Marilla as soon as she arrived home. She would tell Diana and Ruby first thing Monday morning. She would tell Jerry next time she saw the little rascal. She would tell Gilbert...well she would tell him as soon and she reached Dr. Wards office. Something inside of her chest fluttered and a thrill went up her spine at the thought of recounting her emotional story to Gilbert. That seemed to happen far too often whenever he was involved recently. How inconvenient. Pushing that aside, Anne closed her eyes, feeling the wind on her face and her heart opening up.

——————————

Anne took a deep breath. Fixing her hair, which was flowing down her back due to the wind, she opened the door to the small medical practice.

“Hello there! May I help you?” A beautiful, blonde haired woman asked when she reached the front desk.

“Hi, yes actually, I’m looking for Gilbert Blythe. I have something ever so important to tell him,” Anne responded with a delighted smile.

“Oh, um, of course. I’ll go let him know.” For some reason the young woman seemed very interested in Anne’s words. With a confused but grateful smile, Anne sat on the bench and waited for Gilbert.

“Anne? What brings you here? Is everything alright?” Blythe inquired less than a minute later with concern decorating his face. Anne had never come to see him at the office.

“Indeed. More than ok. Positively exquisite to be exact,” Anne’s smile lit up her whole being, making everything in the room shine.

Gilbert couldn’t help but smile back even without knowing the cause of Anne’s excitement. Her passion was contagious. “Well, do tell. Does it have to do with your parents?” The two teenagers had long since cleared the air that was sullied after an unfortunate train ride. Once back to being kindred spirits, Anne told him everything and Gilbert vowed to help her in any way possible.

“Yes. I found something. Something better than even I could have ever imagined.”

“That’s incredible. I can’t wait to hear about it. I only have a couple things left to finish up and then you can tell me on the way to the train.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you outside,” Anne and Gilbert stared at each other for a few more second, their shared joy showing in their warm smiles and shining eyes.

Finally ending their mini staring contest, Anne looked down and made her way outside.

Gilbert watched after her for a little while longer, feeling genuine happiness at Anne’s success. She deserved this.

“I’m a little confused.”

Gilbert was startled out of his trance by Ms. Rose’s voice.

“You said you’d never been on a date before but that girl is clearly more than a friend.”

“Winifred, I can explain—“

“No need,” she interrupted. “I hadn’t exactly imagined us getting married and living a life together after one lunch date. So, who is she?”

Gilbert let out a deep breath when he saw nothing but friendly mirth in her eyes. “Alright well, she is actually just a friend if I’m to be honest. I mean, I think.”

“Ah, so just a friend but with the potential of something more? Seems complicated.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well then don’t let me hold you up. Go with your Anne.”

Gilbert smiled a little goofily at the words ‘your Anne.’ No matter how much he may try to repress it, there would never be anyone for him but her.

He thanked Winifred with a polite smile, collected his things and made his way out the door.

——————————

“Anne that’s marvellous! I’m so happy for you,” The Blythe boy exclaimed jovially. Anne had just finished telling him everything.

“Thank you Gil. I can finally breathe easy now.” Anne’s eyes went a little wide as she noticed what she had just said.

“Gil?” He asked, grinning like the cat that got the canary. “That’s new”

“Um, yeah sorry, it just slipped out,” Anne’s cheeks were developing a lovely shade of pink. She couldn’t believe she called Gilbert Blythe, her former arch nemesis, ‘Gil.’

“Don’t apologize, I like it.” Gilbert reached up to scratch the back of his head; a nervous tick Anne had picked up on over the years.

“Alright. I am not sorry and will continue to call you Gil.”

Gilbert chuckled. “Deal. Now I need a nickname for you.”

“Oh no.”

“How about...”

“Gilbert Blythe, don’t you dare.”

“Carrots?” He smiled mischievously, laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Are you looking for another whack to the face. I’m quite certain I brought my slate.” Despite her words, Anne was also smiling. Even though she’d never admit it, spending time with Gilbert was one of her favourite things to do.

“Oh yeah? Well, carrots, I’m calling your bluff.”

The two adolescents has a silent face off, neither one looking away this time. “...Fine. You win.” It seemed Anne wasn’t as opposed to the nickname as she had been years prior. Especially not when Gilbert uttered that word with such fondness instead of malice.

“Good.”

They moved on from that topic, discussing anything and everything. School, the new printing press, how much they were rooting for Diana and Jerry, dancing lessons. Simply enjoying each other’s company without arguing for once.

The train ride was over before they knew it and soon they were both making their way back to Green Gables. Anne said she didn’t need him to walk her home but, of course, Gilbert insisted and Anne relented this time around.

“Thank you for accompanying me. You know Marilla wouldn’t let me do anything otherwise,” Anne grumbled outside her front door, hating the way she was babied.

“It’s all out of love. She adores you and she just couldn’t imagine anything bad happening. I think you should cut her some slack.”

“I suppose you’re right. It shouldn’t matter now anyways, considering I have accomplished my quest. I couldn’t have done it without you and I have yet to thank you for that so, thank you. It means a lot.”

Gilbert’s whole face softened, getting lost in the way Anne was looking at him. Had she looked at him that way before? He smiled shyly and nodded in understanding.

They kept looking at one another, both taking a step forward, neither one sure of what was about to happen.

Gilbert’s hand lifted on its own accord but before it could reach its destination on Anne’s freckled cheek, the door swung open, revealing Marilla calling Anne inside for supper.

The two bright students jumped apart, looking very startled.

Gilbert coughed. “Um it’s about time I should be getting back. I’m glad you found what you were looking for Anne. I’ll see you on Monday”.

“Goodbye Gil.”

“Bye carrots.”

Gilbert took a couple steps backwards, not turning around. He gave her a final smile and looked away, a bounce in his step as he made the short trek home.

Anne sighed, heart fluttering wildly in her chest. She had no idea what just happened but she knew something changed today.

She went inside, telling Mathew and Marilla about her adventure with vivid detail, only leaving out the parts with Gilbert. She wanted those all for herself.

As she lay in bed that night, going over all that had happened, the last thing she thought of before drifting off was Gilbert’s smile.

[merrywetherweather]

Sorry, I need to rant about the talk I had with my mom, probably the last I’ll ever have with her...

Uh, I very rarely use Tumblr as a diary, but writing this all out really helped me collect my thoughts. Writing is where I’ve always turned to to escape or to lean into things clogging up my head.

My dad and I had dinner yesterday, and I knew he was gonna bring up my mom, but what they consider important to talk about is so strange. He said, "She said you said you hated all cops..." because that’s apparently where her priorities lie and not the fact that she’s losing her daughter, because she’s emotionally and verbally abusive.

And I said, "Yeah, I did say that. Because I didn't want to fight over that. The topic takes away from the actual issue, and I didn't want to waste time skirting around bullshit. So, yeah. I said, "I hate all cops, mom. I know that's a generalization and I don't care." because I didn't want to argue about it, and it obviously had the desired effect, because she was absolutely speechless."

But y'all don't understand how amazing that felt. My mom's never been speechless in an argument with me before. She always has something to say, but, this time, I was so far gone, there was nothing for her to fall back on or pull out. Here's a list of things I said that she just couldn't reply to:

1) "I don't like you as a person."

Admittedly harsh. This was something my mommom said to her to the effect of "I may have to love you because you're my daughter, but I don't have to like you as a person." (Yeah, the chain of abuse in my family goes way back...) Was this a low blow, knowing her childhood trauma? Perhaps. But she traumatized her own kids while bemoaning her childhood and using it as an excuse to abuse us for years. So, yeah, it's karma coming full circle and I’m being a little petty. I also explained to my dad that I couldn’t hate her. Some people can end up hating their parents, but I’m not one of them.  I just don’t like how she treats people, or me.

2) "I was happier than I've ever been in the 6 months we didn't talk."

She took that to mean that I hated every moment we’ve ever been together, but I immediately corrected that.

3) "Well, it's actually called pro-choice not pro-abortion so let's pump the breaks and address that right now."

She was really hung up on politics, like she thought that was the reason I was angry??? She said I hated her cause she was conservative and we had to get into the fact that she voted for a man who wants to make life miserable for people I love and care about.

4) On that topic, when she said she’s more concerned for the people close to her, the people she loves and cares about most, I said, “Same, and the people I love and care about most happen to be affected by your president’s transphobic policies.” Like, sorry I used your own logic against you, I guess???

5) "Don't worry about it. I'll figure it out myself."

I said this when she asked about my health insurance expiring soon cause I’ll be turning 26. When I was entering college, she made me jump through hoops to fill out my financial aid. She wouldn’t give me her or my dad’s social security number and made me miserable and stress through the whole process. She knew I had anxiety, and always forced me to do things by myself, even if I had no prior knowledge and had to go into situations blind. She took a “Fill this out by yourself, but, no, I refuse to give you information you wouldn’t have access to.” attitude. So, yeah, I bet that one stung. Well, you always wanted me to do everything by myself, so now I'm only used to relying on myself. That backfired on you, huh? The one thing you thought you could rely on was that I might ask for help in the future. I could tell by the way you desperately tried to explain to me how I should go about it, and I brushed it off, because I actually don’t need your advice and I’m not scared of finding out how to do it myself. You made me this way, someone who doesn’t need you, and now that I don’t want you in my life, you wish I at least needed you.

6) She said I abused her and I replied “My angry response (which was months of silence) to your abuse isn’t abuse. It’s a consequence to your abuse.” She said “Well, what if I was going through something that day?!” and I said “That’s not an excuse to treat people the way you do, to treat me the way you do.”

I’ve heard the same stories that traumatized her as a child thousands of times growing up. It’s a reason for the way she is, but not an excuse. It’s time to grow the fuck up and get a therapist, because I’m done being your stand in shrink and punching bag. (For Christ's sake, I almost bought her horse back riding lessons for her birthday, because she always told us about how my grandmother lied to her about getting them for her growing up. It’s why no one in my family makes promises we can’t keep. It’s why we don’t say I love you to each other enough, because if we said it we needed to mean it.)

7) “You never admit you’ve ever done anything wrong, and you’ve never apologized.”

She smiled at this, because even now she thinks she’s in the right, because she thinks I’m wrong and it’s ironic for me to have said that. I’m good at reading people. That’s something she taught me too. But I’m too good at it now. I over analyze everything, because I’m never sure what to expect from her, which version of my mom I’m getting that day or even hour, my best friend or my worst enemy, so quickly does she shift her mood into confrontational territory, so quickly does she turn on a dime. It makes me sharp on bad days and paranoid on good days, a double edged sword to be sure.

I knew our talk wouldn’t accomplish anything. I knew she wouldn’t apologize, even though I searched her face near the end to find something that would make me change my mind. I don’t know what she wanted to accomplish through it. Maybe she thought I was avoiding her out of cowardice and forcing a confrontation with me would give her the upper hand. What she didn’t expect was how ready I was with those cutting remarks and how steady my hand would be when I aimed them at her. She didn’t have anything to make me stay, even though I wanted her to.

All she could say was, “Well, I’ll always be here... And this is your decision... We all make choices...”

And all I said before driving away was “Yeah... we do.”

She still texts me, sends me things that remind her of me. I don’t respond and I don’t have any intention to. My friends said I should block her number, but she’s always been the hardest person to predict in my life. I’m afraid if I miss something she texts me, I might walk into a trap she’s set completely blind. It’s a hard survival instinct to kick, but it got me this far... I should probably get a therapist myself.

[livwwe1]

My Best Friend

Jon Moxley x Amber (requested by @wwesarahjaneroszko)

Summery: Jon Moxley has recently gone through a divorce with, Renee Young. Cody’s sister, Amber, has just joined AEW after coming from WWE. Cody and Jon are best friends and both Amber and Jon’s feelings for one another resurface.

Warning: Swearing, lil angst, fluff.

Word count: N/A

A/N: @wwesarahjaneroszko I hope you like this one!!

*Requests are closed*

*2 months prior to joining AEW*

‘Listen Vince, I just don’t like the way I’ve been treated recently. It’s been Becky this, Charlotte that! I’m done, ok. I’m asking for my release. I am grateful for the last 5 years, but it’s my time to go’ You exclaimed to Vince. You have been in WWE for 5 years, but recently you’ve been shelved and haven’t appeared on tv for 2 months. You have been really pissed with the authority and creative recently. I mean, being a former 4x Raw women’s champion and a 2x Smackdown women’s champion isn’t a small accomplishment, hell you’ve had more reigns than Becky Lynch.

‘Amber, hey! You alright?!’ You look behind you and see Alexa running towards you. ‘Hey Lex. I’ve been better. I just asked Vince for my release’ You explained to Alexa. ‘What?! Why. You can’t leave! You’re amazing and I’m gonna miss you like hell’ Alexa pleads with you. ‘I wish I could Lex, but I’m not gonna be treated like a dickhead and my brother has offered me a contract with AEW’ You whispered the last part quietly, as WWE was their revival company. ‘Damn. Joining the enemy, huh. I will respect any decision you make. Just don’t forget about me, ok. I love you so much Ambs’ Alexa says whilst giving you a massive hug ‘I will never forget about you Lex. We will always see each other’ you reassure her and let go of the hug. You smile at her once again and walk out the arena

‘Oh and Amber’ you hear before leaving ‘Don’t forget to give Jon a big hug’ she says and winks. You roll your eyes and leave.

You and Jon have had a complicated relationship. Before getting with Renee, you two were best friends. You did everything together. You ate together, roomed together and even road together. However, that all changed when he got with Renee. You two slowly stopped hanging out and that’s when you realised you had feeling for him. You were silently praying they would end their relationship, but they did the complete opposite in 2017. They got married. That’s when you knew you had to stop all feelings for him. You actually did. You started a relationship with Finn Balor a couple of months after they got married, and you really liked Finn. However, that ended a couple of months ago, when he got drafted to Smackdown and got stayed on Raw. The only con about joining AEW was seeing Jon. Cody and him became really close friends, and you were happy that Jon was happy their and was making friends. But, you knew you were gonna be treated correctly at AEW.

*Present day*

Today was the day you were debuting at AEW. News broke out 3 weeks ago that you were released from WWE, and everyone was hoping and praying you join AEW. You were currently sitting backstage in front of a screen watching Brandi vs Allie’s match. It was ‘Fight for the fallen’ tonight, and you were going to debut at the end of their match. The plan was for Brandi and Awesome Kong to beat up Allie, and you were gonna save her. Starting your feud with Brandi.

‘Hey sis. You ready for tonight?!’ Cody sits next to you and hugs you ‘Yeah I can’t wait. Thanks again for giving me this opportunity. I love you’ you smile and hug him. ‘No worries. I know how much wrestling means to you, and you deserve all the recognition you get. I mean it’ he relies. You look at the screen and see Brandi about to pin Allie. ‘I guess what’s my queue’ you say and stand up ‘You got this sis!’

‘One. Two. Three’ ring the bell!! ‘The winner of this match, Brandi Rhodessss’ Justin announces ‘awww come on Allie. Get up girl. What’s wrong bitch? Huh’ Brandi shouts at Allie. Her and Kong start to kick, punch, throw her around the ring. ‘This is unacceptable. Brandi won the match. She doesn’t have to do this!’ Jim Ross exclaims on commentary

*Amber’s theme song*

‘Oh. My. God. Is that Amber?!’ Jim Ross exclaims as you run down the ramp to the ring. ‘That sure as hell is here. What is she doing here?!! The crowd is going nuts!’ Alex says. It’s true, when you ran out, the crowd was going nuts. They were chanting ‘Holy Shit!’ ‘This is awesome’ ‘Amber!’ You dropkick Kong our the ring and went straight to work on Brandi. You do your signature move on her and go and check on Allie. ‘You alright?!’ You ask. ‘Yeah I’m good. Thanks Amber’ she smiles and stands up. You look around the arena and see everyone standing up, cheering. ‘I’m back baby’ you wink at the camera.

You and Allie walk backstage and are greeted by your brother, Cody. ‘That was fucking amazing. Great job, sis. They fucking love you!’ You hug him ‘thanks Cody. I’m gonna go to the locker room and freshen up. I’ll see you and Brandi tonight?’ You ask. You and Brandi were really great friends. I mean she was your sister in law after all. It was funny being in a feud with one of your family members. ‘Yeah definitely. See you then’ he replies.

Jon’s POV:

‘I’m back baby’. Jon was watching your match. All of it. He was in his changing room and couldn’t believe you joined AEW. He thought you were happy in WWE but he couldn’t deny the happiness he felt inside him when he saw you in that ring. Him and Renee got divorced 3 months ago. After joining AEW and her still being in WWE, it was too much for them and long distance wasn’t his thing. He always had a special place in his heart for you. When you were best friends, he did have feelings for you, but Renee happened and he did fall in love with her.

He left his changing room and made his way to catering. He didn’t have a match tonight, but he still liked coming to the arena. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry’ he hears a girl say from the floor. ‘No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going’ he replies and looks down. Only to see you on the floor. His heart just stopped.

Amber’s POV:

You start walking to the locker room looking at your phone. You got a text from Alexa, saying how proud she was with your debut. You were happy that her and you managed to stay close friends. That was until you walked into what felt like a brick wall. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry’ you exclaim. ‘No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going’ you hear the guy say. You look up and see Jon. Your heart just stops.

‘Amber...h-hi. How are you?’ He says and puts his hand out to pick you up. ‘Yeah I’m good. How are you?’ You smile and take his hand. The hand with the stupid, tattooed wedding ring. You never understood why he got his wedding band tattood. Why not buy a regular wedding band? What if you get divorced? The feelings you felt before just resurfaced. Stupid feelings. ‘I’ve been better. You know. Going through a divorce isn’t the best thing, but I feel better now’ he smiles. Wait divorced. Did he just say, he got divorced?! ‘Yo-you got divorced? Why didn’t you tell me? I mean I know he haven’t spoken to each other in a while, but I’m still your friend. I could’ve helped you’ you ask. ‘I know but you were in WWE. She was there too. I guess, it would’ve triggered me too much. I’m sorry, Amber. I really am. I’m glad your here tho. I really am’ he smiles and hugs you. ‘Me too Jon’ I say. Little did you know, Cody and Brandi were standing not that far away seeing this. ‘You know they’re meant to be right?’ Brandi tells your brother. ‘I know. I hope she goes for it’ he replies.

*Later that night*

You, Cody, Brandi, Jon and some others decided to celebrate the success of the PPV and went our for a couple of drinks. You felt so much happier being here than at WWE. Everyone around you was so friendly. Kenny was amazing and sweet. He helped show you around the arena, and you guys became friends quite quickly. ‘Hey, Amber. You want me to get you another drink?’ He asks you. ‘Uh, yeah sure. Thanks Ken’ you smile. You could see Jon shift in his seat in front of you, looking a little disoriented. ‘You alright Jon?’ You ask him. ‘Yeah I’m good’ he drinks his drink. You didn’t want to toot your own horn, but you thought he seemed a little jealous. I mean, come on. Kenny is great and all, but he’s no Jon. You were so relived when he said him and Renee got divorced. You may have sounded like a bitch, but you really loved him. Like a lot. Kenny came back with your drink and sat next to you.

The night went on. Everyone got a little tipsy, expect for you and Jon. You guys were the designated drivers for tonight, and you knew you couldn’t get drunk. You guys had one drink and that was it. ‘Hey Amber. You want to go out tomorrow?’ Kenny asked you. Right after he said that, Jon stood up and left to go outside ‘for some air’. ‘Oh uh...I would love to but I have training tomorrow. Maybe another time’ you say. You didn’t really have training tomorrow, but you didn’t want to lead him on. You stood up and followed Jon outside.

‘Hey. You alright?’ You ask him. ‘Yeah I’m good, doll. Looking forward to your little date with Kenny tomorrow?’ He smirks. You could hear the tint of jealously coming out of his mouth. ‘There’s going to be no date tomorrow, actually. Why, you jealous Jon’ you smirk back. ‘Why would I be jealous for? Were best friend remember. It’s all good’ he replies back. Best friends. Right. Nothing more, nothing less. ‘Just messing with you’ you sigh and sit on the bench outside the pub. You wish you two could be more than friends. Renee isn’t in the picture, it would be perfect. However, you knew he didn’t like you like that. It was obvious. ‘I’m gonna head back in. See if the guys are ready to leave’ you say and just as you were about to get up, Jon pulls your arm to sit back down. ‘Why did you think I was jealous for?’ Jon asks. ‘I didn’t. I was joking remember’ I whisper. ‘I don’t think you were joking’ he whispers back. You looked into his eyes. ‘Look Jon, it was just a silly jo-‘ you were then cut off by his lips onto yours. It took you a couple of seconds to realises what was happening, until you started kissing him back. ‘I really like you Jon’ you say into the kiss. ‘I really, fucking like you too, Amber’ he replies back. You break apart and smile at each other. ‘Let me take you on a date tomorrow’ he smirks. ‘I would love that’ you smile and kiss him again.

‘Hey g-guys leets go ho-‘ Cody says walking out the pub, but stops when he sees you and Jon. He stands there and smirks. ‘I told you she would go for it’ he smirks at Brandi.

[loveonthedancefloor]

Love Online

Ann is a resident of Wisconsin. She earned her Bachelor of Science diploma in Schooling and in Nursing. After retirement she returned to her creative passions: drawing, portray, illustrating for children’s and poetry books. Writing turned a pure progression. Ann has two grownup daughters that have inspired her in each aspect of this adventure.

In love and in life we are challenged to the core. Our knee jerk instincts on points and feelings are pushed around in opposition to our wills at times. I had a variety of knee jerks prior to now eight years. I had danced with many guys all through my search for that excellent partner. I used to be stronger now and had discovered quite a bit about courting and the importance of being selective in selecting the suitable man for me.

Determination making in finding a promising relationship via online dating gives us all extra romantic choices than previous generations. In my ” senior years” I unraveled necessary clues before taking the plunge. Know who you might be, independent of somebody else. Don't idealize a relationship. Compromise is key. Someone's internal values change into more necessary than the superficial attributes.

I recognized styles and personalities and shared familiar events or phases in life became important in determining success or failure in a profitable relationship. Breaking down our walls of ache and apprehension, letting go of the injuries of the previous help in moving ahead in a optimistic way.

After reflecting on these previous years I wiped away the tears and thought of my former husband again. It was clear that I’d at all times refer back to him. He was once that man that I might depend on and come to over those marital years.He couldn’t be there for me anymore and I revered that and his new life.

Persevering with my seek for love was a job at occasions however principally a fun journey. One that helped me discover who I'm and what I would like in a relationship.  I danced a lot with many dancers. I hoped that I too was an vital half in helping them determine True Love Online who they were in search of as well. We were all learning, evolving. I nonetheless hadn’t found the suitable dancer but I was decided to proceed this quest of finding that companion that might complete my dance of affection and life.

We all know that blissful state at the beginning of a loving relationship, where you might be bursting with power and relishing the feeling of unconditional love. That's the reason it's so simple to consider which you could’t possibly be any happier than if you end up with a love.The longer lasting fact is that if you are not happy from the inside out, your relationships will inevitably mirror your interior disharmony.

The quickest solution to falling in love with YOU, therefore attracting one other who will fall in love with you, is to take responsibility for making YOU happy. Don’t wait to take the journey, be taught the new interest, or express your self creatively till you've gotten the perfect partner. Do it now. Be it now. Create a life that you simply love, simply you and you.From this high vibration state of being, joyful and lit up from the within, your mild will attract another who is also happiness personified. Collectively, now you can celebrate an impressed life together!

It's tempting to determine together with your accomplice to the extent that their accomplishments or abilities make you are feeling that rather more achieved or talented. You're feeling like a better particular person as a result of they're “your’s.”In actuality, what you are doing is freely giving your individual treasured self to a place outdoors of yourself.

Whatever you desire or admire in a lover is what you desire for yourself. Lets get you into your personal middle, free to be your most genuine self, liberated from others’ expectations, and fearlessly pursuing these things that convey you joy.Are you interested in the outdoorsy sort? Create opportunities to get exterior and into some wild adventures now!

Are you interested in the aesthetic, well-learn type? Purchase the tickets, take the class, journey to the sacred website to fill YOU up with what you love.What fills you up? Do extra of that and along the best way you could simply find yourself AND your true love!

It is straightforward to really feel separate and alone within the world.Your ego, the facet of you that is answerable for preserving you fed, sheltered, payments paid, etc. sees the world as a place separate from yourself. This aspect of you is logical, linear, efficiency driven, and worry-based. It is the a part of you that will get the promotion, the gold star, the approving nods or reviews.

[tomhiddleslove]

Secret love shacks, or love flats as the case may be, notwithstanding, no affair is an island built for two – there’s always at least a third person in the mix, typically considered the betrayed. In Jamie Lloyd’s masterful revival of Harold Pinter’s Betrayal – one is tempted to call it a reinvention, so deeply and definitely urgent is his take – three of the ever-shifting betrayers and betrayees occupy the stage at all times, one or another bearing silent witness as the other two enact an affair’s all-too-familiar scenes of lies, transgressions, excitement and the love that, at least fleetingly, prompts it all.

With a starry, pitch- and picture-perfect cast imported from the smash London staging – Tom Hiddleston, Charlie Cox and Zawe Ashton – Lloyd’s staging of Pinter’s 1978 masterpiece, opening tonight at Broadway’s Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, Betrayal feels at once classic and altogether contemporary, a seamless weaving together of elements, from the fashionably spare stage and boho chic costumes to the director’s impeccably timed shuffling of characters from stage spot to stage spot, era to era, high mood to low.

Presented in reverse chronology – we meet the characters years after the end of the affair (though certainly not after its consequences) and follow them in scenes that scroll back to the first flirtation – Pinter’s play debuted five years before Stephen Sondheim and George Furth’s backward musical Merrily We Roll Along, the play victorious over the structure’s challenges in ways the musical rarely accomplishes.

Lloyd’s staging, unhurried but never dawdling, glides through the emotional time tunnel as each scene, or, rather, each encounter of the characters in configurations of mostly two, occasionally three, flows with the certainty of logic. Or maybe it just seems logical in the hindsight built into the structure. Either way, each and every meeting of these characters is something of an “a-ha!” moment, leaving us convinced we’ve just been handed a crucial piece to a puzzle.

Our first meeting is with Jerry (Cox) and Emma (Ashton), whose seven-year affair (she’s married to Jerry’s longtime best friend Robert, played by Hiddleston) has been over for some years now. She’s called him, seemingly, out of the blue, and their wistful meet-up is loaded with the “You think of me sometimes?” and “I remember” aches and pains that lose none of their haunting durability for having been spoken.

Seated closely in two hard-backed chairs on the otherwise empty stage, Emma takes her time getting to the point: She wants Jerry to know that she has confessed all to Robert, just last night in fact. Hiddleston’s Robert silently watches the encounter just as we do.

The betrayed husband has known everything, through all the increasingly infrequent boozy lunches that had the husband and his seemingly clueless best man continuing a friendship now revealed in all its shabby dishonesty. The betrayer has become the betrayed, and not for the last time.

As Betrayal unfolds in reverse time to the first stolen kiss between Jerry and Emma seven years prior, we learn perhaps more than we’d care to about these attractive, bookish and stylish intellectuals (Pinter based the play on his own real-life affair). Our empathy for the cuckolded Robert diminishes when he owns up to hitting Emma “once or twice” merely because he felt like giving her a good “bashing.” The affable Jerry seems appropriately conscience-stricken, right up to the early point when we discover his backstabbing intentions. Even Emma, so smart, witty and beautiful, won’t get out of here unscathed.

Played against simple, mottled gray panels on a near-bare stage (Jon Clark’s lighting design casts doppelgänger shadows, and Soutra Gilmour did the very effective scenic and costume designs, indicating no era, certainly not the ’60s-’70s period Pinter intended), Betrayal showcases three of the best dramatic performances currently on a New York stage. In their Broadway debuts, Hiddleston (The Avengers), Cox (Daredevil) and Ashton (Velvet Buzzsaw) prove what London theatergoers have long known: Each holds the stage with a conviction that’s unbeatable. The compelling Hiddleston might get top billing, but his co-stars are no less commanding.

As the stage revolves and shuttles them to and fro, giving visual force to Pinter’s movement of these characters each through the others’ lives, Lloyd expertly focuses our attention on the performances. Aching, wistful and wounding, the director’s staging of Betrayal presents three friends and lovers trapped in an undoing of their own making, their inevitable self-destruction no less powerful for showing itself before the happier days.

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[ Link to full article in source below. ]

[insanityclause]

Secret love shacks, or love flats as the case may be, notwithstanding, no affair is an island built for two – there’s always at least a third person in the mix, typically considered the betrayed. In Jamie Lloyd’s masterful revival of Harold Pinter’s Betrayal – one is tempted to call it a reinvention, so deeply and definitely urgent is his take – three of the ever-shifting betrayers and betrayees occupy the stage at all times, one or another bearing silent witness as the other two enact an affair’s all-too-familiar scenes of lies, transgressions, excitement and the love that, at least fleetingly, prompts it all.

With a starry, pitch- and picture-perfect cast imported from the smash London staging – Tom Hiddleston, Charlie Cox and Zawe Ashton – Lloyd’s staging of Pinter’s 1978 masterpiece, opening tonight at Broadway’s Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre, Betrayal feels at once classic and altogether contemporary, a seamless weaving together of elements, from the fashionably spare stage and boho chic costumes to the director’s impeccably timed shuffling of characters from stage spot to stage spot, era to era, high mood to low.

Presented in reverse chronology – we meet the characters years after the end of the affair (though certainly not after its consequences) and follow them in scenes that scroll back to the first flirtation – Pinter’s play debuted five years before Stephen Sondheim and George Furth’s backward musical Merrily We Roll Along, the play victorious over the structure’s challenges in ways the musical rarely accomplishes.

Lloyd’s staging, unhurried but never dawdling, glides through the emotional time tunnel as each scene, or, rather, each encounter of the characters in configurations of mostly two, occasionally three, flows with the certainty of logic. Or maybe it just seems logical in the hindsight built into the structure. Either way, each and every meeting of these characters is something of an “a-ha!” moment, leaving us convinced we’ve just been handed a crucial piece to a puzzle.

Our first meeting is with Jerry (Cox) and Emma (Ashton), whose seven-year affair (she’s married to Jerry’s longtime best friend Robert, played by Hiddleston) has been over for some years now. She’s called him, seemingly, out of the blue, and their wistful meet-up is loaded with the “You think of me sometimes?” and “I remember” aches and pains that lose none of their haunting durability for having been spoken.

Seated closely in two hard-backed chairs on the otherwise empty stage, Emma takes her time getting to the point: She wants Jerry to know that she has confessed all to Robert, just last night in fact. Hiddleston’s Robert silently watches the encounter just as we do.

Next comes the gobsmacked and guilt-ridden Jerry’s quickly arranged meeting with Robert, his intention apparently one of too-late confession and perhaps forgiveness-seeking.

Robert’s confused, though. Emma didn’t spill the beans last night, but rather four years ago. The betrayed husband has known everything, through all the increasingly infrequent boozy lunches that had the husband and his seemingly clueless best man continuing a friendship now revealed in all its shabby dishonesty. The betrayer has become the betrayed, and not for the last time.

As Betrayal unfolds in reverse time to the first stolen kiss between Jerry and Emma seven years prior, we learn perhaps more than we’d care to about these attractive, bookish and stylish intellectuals (Pinter based the play on his own real-life affair). Our empathy for the cuckolded Robert diminishes when he owns up to hitting Emma “once or twice” merely because he felt like giving her a good “bashing.” The affable Jerry seems appropriately conscience-stricken, right up to the early point when we discover his backstabbing intentions. Even Emma, so smart, witty and beautiful, won’t get out of here unscathed.

Played against simple, mottled gray panels on a near-bare stage (Jon Clark’s lighting design casts doppelgänger shadows, and Soutra Gilmour did the very effective scenic and costume designs, indicating no era, certainly not the ’60s-’70s period Pinter intended), Betrayal showcases three of the best dramatic performances currently on a New York stage. In their Broadway debuts, Hiddleston (The Avengers), Cox (Daredevil) and Ashton (Velvet Buzzsaw) prove what London theatergoers have long known: Each holds the stage with a conviction that’s unbeatable. The compelling Hiddleston might get top billing, but his co-stars are no less commanding.

As the stage revolves and shuttles them to and fro, giving visual force to Pinter’s movement of these characters each through the others’ lives, Lloyd expertly focuses our attention on the performances. Aching, wistful and wounding, the director’s staging of Betrayal presents three friends and lovers trapped in an undoing of their own making, their inevitable self-destruction no less powerful for showing itself before the happier days.