#my hips and stomach are like my pride and joy after my hair physically speaking

[andragoras-in-vanity]

fuck i need to lose weight, im gaining it in a weird spot under my ribs and i can feel the pressure the same way i would if i overate and got bloated. its so physically uncomfortable and i look like shit, i cant wear my crop tops at all, im so stressed, i have no idea how to lose it and im scared to go off my meds cause im gonna be in pain for a while and i dont even know if ill lose it all again once im off of them

[snowycrocus]

Frozen Fanfiction “Such a Cost” Ch.5/? Elsa Sacrifices her Magic to Save Anna

Start with part one, part two, part three and part four first.

“There they are!”

The shouts of the guards are heard as they approach the castle.

The guard captain rides barreling towards them, encouraging his horse to faster speeds despite the fact that the trio will be at the gates within minutes.

Elsa is squeezed tightly on Sven between Anna in front and Kristoff behind her – they had not anticipated the need for three riders on the way home, and Sven is panting with the effort, tongue lolling.

She’s barely ridden a horse since she was a child, let alone a reindeer – and the combination of the stress, exhaustion and confusion compounded with this painful bouncing is just about as much as she can possibly take. Not to mention the guaranteed bruising.

Kristoff brings Sven to a gradual stop right as the captain reaches them. His thick brows furrow as he gazes briefly at the unfamiliar brunette before addressing Anna.

“Princess, who is this? Where is -”

Elsa clears her throat, fighting back the mounting panic that is already beginning to rise from her stomach and make her hands tremble. They’re fisted in Anna’s cloak and she desperately hopes her sister can’t feel their quaking. “Captain.”

And so it begins.

The first moment of….the rest of my life.

The guard stills, pausing, to glance back at Elsa. He squints, before his eyes widen in shock and he offers a sharp bow of his head in her direction. “Your…your majesty?”

She gives a minute nod. “Indeed.” She continues speaking before he can bombard her with any more questions. She can’t take any more, not tonight.

But I have to. Tonight, tomorrow, and every other night after.

She pushes down the rising wave of nausea threatening to overtake her.

“Please, allow us to return home. Explanations will be given tomorrow, but until then we require some food and some much-needed rest.”

“Certainly, your Majesty. My apologies.” He turns to lead the three towards the castle gates.

Upon entering the castle, Anna offers her arm to Elsa, who quickly loops her own arm through it. She’s not sure whether she’s more glad for the physical support, as she’s so goddamn tired she can barely put one foot in front of the other, or for the display of normalcy that she is so desperately clinging to right now.

Though Elsa keeps her eyes firmly planted on the ground in front of her, she cannot help but notice all the stares. The staff, the guards – everyone they pass stops and does a double take. Their gawking is somehow palpable.

She can keep her eyes down, try to shut out the world around her like she used to.

But she can’t turn off her hearing.

“Is that the Queen?”

“What happened to her?”

One whisper turns to two, then three, before the halls are buzzing with commotion. Or at least, so it seems. She pulls Anna closer to her, her elbow now pressing into her ribcage painfully but she doesn’t care- the pain is the distraction she needs right now.

“-some new magic?”

“I liked her better as a blonde.”

Elsa grits her teeth until her jaw screams in pain.

They’ve reached her door.

Anna’s eyes are brimming with tears as she gazes at her clearly-struggling sister. Elsa’s staring pointedly at the ground, her arms clasped around her torso like she used to do (and still does) when she’s nervous or stressed.

“Elsa.”

Anna reaches out and pulls Elsa’s chin up so that their eyes meet. Elsa’s eyes are swimming with so many thoughts and emotions that Anna is at a loss for what to say or do to comfort her sister. But she tries.

“Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. We’ll get through this – together. Just like we always do.”

Elsa nods, squeezing her eyes tight, though one tear leaks out past her lids to trickle down her cheek.

She can’t remember the last time a tear made it all the way down to her chin.

Has one ever?

They’ve always….frozen.

“Anna,” she says, her voice fragile. “No matter what happens, no matter what people say – I will never wish I did differently. Nothing could ever matter more to me than you.” She looks up at last to lock eyes with Anna.  “I would trade my life for you, Anna.”

“I know,” Anna says, solemn. She brushes the chestnut bangs out of Elsa’s eyes. “But you don’t have to make a decision like that. Now get some rest.” She pushes Elsa’s hair behind her ear and presses a light kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

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

The ice burns.

Climbing, reaching, it twists around her ankles, tendrils scaling her calves to twist around her hips. She struggles to move, to escape, but the ice won’t let her. It tangles like vines over her stomach, constricts her ribcage so she can no longer breathe and scales her chest over to her shoulders. It shoots up her neck and she feels her skin blistering from the shooting cold, the ice consuming her jaw.

Icy prickles over her lips - she can taste them on her tongue just before it, too, goes numb.

She thrashes. Desperate. She can feel it - this is the end.

So, so cold. This is true misery, true pain. What is cold, and ice, but death? It harbors no life, chokes out all semblance of living, of soul.

The ice runs through her nose, burning, and what little air she was able to gasp in before is gone.

It reaches the top of her head, and when it burrows into her eyes, her eyeballs searing in cold right into her brain and skull she feels herself jerk and judder and convulse, and she begs for the relief of death to finally take her.

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

She wakes with a gasp so harsh and gulping it burns her throat.

It takes her a moment to realize where she is, that she is not frozen - cocooned for eternity in a frigid shell of ice - but awake, and very much alive, in her bedroom.

Tears stream from her eyes, her skin prickling with the remnants of fear and limbs trembling violently.

The trembling is from her horror, yes, but also, she realizes…..from cold.

So this is cold.

It scares her, now, this foreign sensation, after living that dream.

The cold doesn’t give, anymore – now it only takes. It takes her joy, excitement, and pride, leaving only discomfort and pain. Fear.

Her legs are tangled in the sheets from her thrashing, and it takes her a moment to untangle herself before she can rise shakily from her bed, to hurriedly pull on her robe and her thickest pair of stockings.

Spring is on its way, but it needs perhaps a few more weeks before it’s strong enough to coax the crocuses to peek out from the soil and for the birds to begin chirping. At night temperatures still plummet, though she’s never had to give thought to it before.

Stepping quickly to the fireplace in her bedroom, she casts an uncertain gaze over the tools hung next to it – there’s a shovel, a poker, a brush, and what look like tongs – but if it weren’t for the daily cleaning of her room by the maids she’s sure they’d all be covered in a thick layer of dust for all the use they’ve gotten. She honestly can’t even remember the last time a flame had been lit here.

She tries and fails to hold back a fit of shivering as she searches for a box of matches. Finding it resting on the mantle, she pulls out a match and shakily pulls it across the rough side of the box.

Nothing.

Once, twice, three times, then four.

On the fifth try she manages to stop her trembling enough that the match lights, and she hesitantly touches it to a log.

It burns, smoldering, but no flame catches. Tendrils of smoke climb through the room. Elsa’s eyes water and she coughs. She tries to blow it out, but somehow that makes even more smoke pour from the log and she quickly jumps back, shivering from the cold and choking on the smoke.

She holds out a hand towards the fireplace, urging the log to freeze.

Oh.

Tears prickle behind her eyes, and she tells herself they’re from the stinging of the smoke and not from the despair that’s beginning to well up in her chest again.

She pushes through her bedroom door, giving quite the fright to the two guards peacefully manning the entrance.

“Your Majesty!” The taller one startles before peeking into her room curiously. The whole bedroom already reeks of smoke and he almost reaches out to touch the Queen who is trying unsuccessfully to stifle a coughing fit into her arm. “What happened?”

The Queen manages to take a breath, eyes watering. “Send for a handmaiden. Please.”

The guard notes her shivering, the redness of her cheeks and eyes.

It is only perhaps a few minutes, though it feels like an hour, when the second guard returns with a girl who must be the handmaiden.

She’s a shockingly young thing, Elsa notes, and she’s never seen her face before. At least, not that she can remember. She’s never been very good with faces.

She wishes it were Gerda coming to help her. She can’t accept anyone else knowing how pitiful she is – so useless, so helpless that she can’t even light a fire. Pathetic. Elsa’s chest tightens in disappointment, before she reprimands herself for her foolishness. How can she be so selfish? Of course Gerda is asleep at this godforsaken hour. You’re not some stupid little girl pining for the comfort of her Nanny. Get over yourself.

But she’s lost so much of herself in such a short amount of time, and Elsa craves the gentle touch of something familiar and comforting.

The girl approaches Elsa before dropping into a deep, deep curtsey. “Your Majesty.” She huffs out a lungful of smoke, gazing at the bedroom curiously. “How can I serve you?” She eyes Elsa’s hair warily.

Elsa hesitates before stepping back into her room, gesturing for the girl to follow. She closes the door and bites her lip. Get it together. You’re the Queen. “I….” Her teeth bite into her lower lip so hard she breaks the skin. “I need help to light a fire,” she says to her feet.

“Certainly, your Majesty.”

The girl does….something to the smoldering log – Elsa misses it as she’s still obstinately looking at her feet in embarrassment.

The handmaid leaves the room briefly to give instructions to the guard outside. “The wood is too wet, your Majesty,” she explains. “It has been sitting for too long. Someone is bringing better wood now.”

They’re left awkwardly standing in her bedroom, waiting. Elsa grapples for something to say – anything to break the uncomfortable silence, as the serving girl won’t speak until she herself initiates conversation.

Elsa fingers the ends of her hair nervously- she’s let it loose for bed, and can’t stop staring in disbelief at the soft waves of brown below her shoulders. She’s decidedly not allowed herself to look in a mirror- she can’t take that, not yet, not after all that’s already happened tonight. But the handmaiden keeps sneaking glances at her, or more specifically, at her hair, and the question simply slips past her lips before she can hold it back:

“It’s quite different, isn’t it?”

The girl blushes as she realizes she’s been caught staring. She bobs her head quickly. “Yes, your Majesty.” She opens her mouth to say more but then clamps it shut just as quickly, her blush deepening.

Elsa’s curiosity gets the best of her. “Go on. What is it?”

“Why….why did you change it?” She looks down, embarrassed to have asked the Queen to explain herself.

Elsa’s breath catches and she hesitates, trying to find words to express her reasoning without revealing the total truth behind the change.

“Sometimes….sometimes we must give a part of ourselves for those we love.” She thinks of a story her mother once told her, when she was a moody teenager with much too much time on her hands and was pining for her sister. “The moon loved the sun so much he died every morning to let her breathe.”

The girl’s eyebrows quirk and she looks to want to ask for further clarification, but supposes that the Queen is allowed to speak nonsense so she shuts her mouth. Just then a boy comes with wood, and before she knows it Elsa is back in bed, trying and failing to sleep.

Despite the roaring fire beside her, she is helplessly, desperately cold.

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

The crackling wakes her up.

Snapping, popping, sizzling….she wakes with a start. The fire spits smoke and embers.

The smoke is so thick she can’t even see what’s surrounding it.

When she’s close enough, when the smoke is so thick and curling it coats her lungs and chokes her, she hears the frightened screams.

“Anna! Please, no, no – Anna!”

The voice is directly in front of her- coming from the flames.

It’s a pyre, she can see now.

And her sister, tied and restrained to a wooden post, screams her name as she struggles against the thick rope bindings.

A hint of charred, burning flesh reaches her nostrils and she gags.

“Anna!”

“Elsa!” She screams back. “Freeze it! Cover it in snow!”

Elsa’s body sags against the wooden post. She grits her teeth in pain and Anna can see she’s trying to hold back a scream. The fire licks at her ankles now.

“I can’t. You took it away from me! I can’t do anything!”

Anna stumbles back, her eyes smarting and watering from both the memory and the pungent smoke that climbs higher and higher.

“I’m sorry!” She yells out to her sister. “It’s all my fault!”

Elsa screams as the blaze reaches her waist. The smell of charred flesh is growing stronger and Anna tries desperately to fight the roiling waves of her stomach.

“Look what you did to me!” Elsa yells at her, continuing to struggle to break free of her bindings. The fire climbs higher, the smoke growing thicker and smell growing stronger. “It’s all your fault!”

Anna falls to her knees, tears coursing down her face. She turns to vomit as the stench overtakes her, but when she looks back, there is nothing left on the pyre other than fluttering flames and falling ashes.

“Elsa!”

Anna bolts from her bed with a start. Her skin is prickled with goosebumps and her nightgown is absolutely soaked through with sweat.

It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream!

Elsa’s alive!

But, Anna knows – it is all her fault.

It’s always her fault.

She was a stupid, stupid child who disobeyed the simplest of instructions and led to Elsa’s seclusion all her life.

Now that Elsa finally was free – now that she had finally accepted herself, and had been accepted by most of those around her – now that freedom was taken from her again. By Anna.

All my fault. All my fault.

She remembers when Grand Pabbie pulled the magic from Elsa’s body trembling on the forest floor. It was ripped from her- the magic came out of her in coursing waves that rocked Elsa’s form with jerks and shudders. I caused her pain. All my fault.

She remembers seeing Elsa’s new appearance for the first time – the chestnut waves finally matched her eyebrows. Her sister, of course – but also a new girl, destined to become someone else entirely.

Elsa’s silence on the way back home was from exhaustion, surely, but also, Anna knew- from fear. Fear of what she had lost, fear of what was to come. Fear of not knowing herself, anymore.

Unfortunately, Anna knew herself all too well. It was always the same story.

All my fault.

As you can tell, this chapter is just an introduction to what life is going to now be like for the girls. Plot-wise, there’s not much, but I felt I needed to introduce what life will now be before getting into the real details of the changes and emotions, and before I introduce the actual plot. The next chapters will show the changes and their emotional effects, while soon after that I will introduce the plot which (hint hint) involves the crystal, as you’ve probably all guessed.

I am absolutely stunned at the reception of this, and I want to thank you all for reading, reviewing, reblogging, etc. It really means the world to me, and I don’t mean to sound like a broken record but I read every word you write time and time again. Hearing from you all is what keeps me writing and gets me excited to write. So thank you all times a gazillion for your comments and love. Also - I am more than happy to take constructive criticism! 

Finally, just wanted to throw this out there- any readers that are artists want to give this a go? I would LOVE to see some of this drawn out, and I would be eternally grateful and owe you forever. :D

Tagging those of you that commented and/or reblogged for the previous chapter- let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future. @lelitachay, @egoeas, @a-frozen-kind-of-love, @aqueenthatisfrozen, @arendelve, @the-sky-is-awake, @elsaannasnowqueen, @justlookatthosesausages, @above-d-clouds, @frozen-heart101, @sketchypalette20, @maregnbue, @imperial-imp, @onepieceofartplease, @snowqueenofmyheart, @thegeekogecko, @99884321, @everrealmdweller, @grrlgeek72, @frozenartscapes, @habibi18, @thankfullyimgay, @wandering-bard-from-the-id, @a-frozen-kind-of-love

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Light In Me//3//Maybe When You’re Far Away

A/N: fill my inbox with theories, thoughts and anything you wish to see expanded on or in the future! enjoy .xx

masterlist

Fire had always been Michael’s thing. He controlled it with such grace, kept it crackling in their room constantly, always warm and welcoming. Penelope thought that the reason Michael had been intrigued by her in the first place was that he couldn’t control her. He had tried. Oh, had he tried. But all he got in return was her twinkling laughter and the way she spun in her dresses when she was filled with joy.

She had found a little clearing, an owl had directed her to it, and in her attempt to make the fire change shapes the way she had seen Michael do before, she had burnt the edges of her cloak. It had startled her more than it should have, she admitted so to herself. Ever since Michael had brought her here not a single strand of her hair even found its way out of place. She prided herself in being a simple being, not needing more than necessary or asking for things she could retrieve on her own. Her mother raised her to be independent and it was a quality of hers she held most dear.

As Penelope stomped out the flames she cursed herself for having become reliant on Michael. She would prove to him and to herself that she did not require his assistance in living a full life. The luxury he had provided her with could disintegrate when the bombs fell. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need the Sanctuary. And she certainly didn’t need the despair in the pit of her stomach that told her she actually did love Michael.

A flash of silver on the edge of the woods caught her attention and when she looked up she saw amber eyes looking back at her.

“Wolves,” she whispered to herself. When she was younger she had been scared of them. Had run and hid behind her mother’s legs when they approached her while she was out catching butterflies one day. It was then that her mother explained to her that the wolves were drawn to her the same way the butterflies were. “Come here.” Penelope turned her palm up and extended it towards the silver wolf that was slowly walking towards her. Behind followed three others.

As the first one reached her, he nuzzled her palm before knocking his head against hers. “Yes. It is very nice to meet you too.” Penelope giggled with pure joy at the feeling of her powers surging within her. Any new connections with living creatures made the light within her flare with happiness. She was moving to introduce herself to the rest of the pack when Michael came barreling through the brush.

“Penelope!” She felt the power surge within him as he registered the wolves surrounding her, his eyes beginning to roll to the back of his head. Her hands pressed against both of his cheeks. Black fire ran through her veins as she fought to bring him back from the dark place he was going.

“No, Michael. They haven’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt them.” Her heart felt lighter as his blue eyes slowly returned themselves to her. After a brief moment, Michael realized the wolves were looking at him as though he was the threat.

“You can talk to wolves?” he asked breathlessly, feeling a bit faint. Between the blood he had drained to speak to his father and the power his wife had physically drained from him, he felt lightheaded.

“Sit down. You’re bleeding.” In his haste to respond to her screams he had rushed out into the forest, blood and all with no shirt to cover his wounds.

“How is it I still have so much to learn about you, my love?” Michael questioned  as she wrapped her cloak around him.

“To be fair, I did spend the first bit of knowing you locked away in a separate room.” Penelope forgot that she was supposed to be mad at him. Livid. Disappointed. Betrayed. He always looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky and it was hard not to fall in love with him over and over again, every time he looked at her.

“I have been hurt, abandoned. Stabbed in the heart. But I wouldn’t change a thing, Penelope Langdon, because it brought me to you. Even if you leave me...I’ll have known what real love feels like and I could never thank you enough.”

“Michael…” her voice quaked as she stroked her fingers across his face. She pushed her forehead against his lips to which he granted a kiss.

“I am not going to plead with you to stay. I...I forced you to come here against your will in the first place. I should’ve known better than to cage a free bird.” Penelope had never been good at doing nothing in the presence of a broken heart. She pulled him against her and kissed him as though the sheer force of her lips against his could heal him. Heal his past from the house that ruined him. Heal the pain he had felt when he discovered the burning corpse of Miss Mead. Heal the memories that haunted his sleep because no one had accepted him as just a man before Penelope had come along. He sat up straighter in order to push against her. Michael wished for every square inch of skin and lips to be opposite hers. Tears were streaming down his cheeks because his heart could not bear the weight of the love he was feeling, it was too strong. Too powerful. Too all-encompassing for him to even remember to breathe.

Michael grew frantic. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him to claim her. That if he didn’t do it now then she would leave and he would never experience of the high of being with her again. He detached his lips from hers, palming her face so he could expose her neck to his teeth.

“Michael…” she whimpered as he dragged his teeth up her tender skin. What followed was his tongue, softly lapping at the marks he had left. Flicking against her neck the way she liked between her legs. All of her disappointment towards him was evaporating with each involuntary rock of his hips against hers. Maybe she could learn to live without a child. Michael’s lover for her and her love him could be enough. How could she ever abandon a man that made her feel like she was flying? “Bind to me.”

He stopped. His eyes open wide from where they have been half closed in a euphoric haze. Without meaning to he pushed her off of his lap where she had made herself at home and stood to try and get more distance between the two of them.

“Who told you about that?” She looked up at him from her place on the ground where the wolves had come to stand around her, sensing that the peace between the two was no longer as palpable.

“A voice in my head...It just...Just sprung on me. It felt like it was within me and calling out to you,” she explained as she looked anywhere but at him.

“Do you even know what that means? You would no longer have the choice to leave, Penelope. You would be tied to me in mind, body and soul. It is unbreakable.” He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his. “Was it my father’s voice? He said for there to be a baby he would need another piece of your soul maybe this-”

“You went to your father about a baby?” A twinge hit her heart that Michael would willingly descend for her and her wishes. Speak to the man he held a complicated taste for.

“To see if there was anything he could do to prevent you from...I want to give you the world. I’d do anything to keep you happy. Even if it meant letting you go.”

“I’m willing...I’m willing to stay. To try. To make it work.” If she had to descend into Hell to see his father in order to be granted a baby she was at least willing to try. But she didn’t want to go down there, for a second time, feeling lost and untethered from the realm she called home. “I don’t want to go down there without being bound to you this time, Michael.” Nervously, she gripped his hand and looked into his eyes. He wiped gently where moisture was threatening to fall onto her cheeks.

“Okay. Okay, we can do it tomorrow. After I’ve healed and you’ve warmed up.” She nodded gratefully before pressing her lips back against his.

“I am sorry I ran out like I did. It was immature of me.” He shushed her gently by tapping his nose against hers.

“You have needs, Penelope. And I haven’t been meeting them. It is I who should be apologizing. You have been such a good wife and partner to me, the least I could be is the same.”

“Pinky promise then? We will both work to be better, together and for each other?” He eyed her little finger that she had extended towards him with a smirk before linking it with his.

“Come, let’s head inside and see what the kitchen can do about a midnight snack.” Michael extended his hand to help her up, pulling her into his chest once she was up. They moved to head back towards their castle when a whimper made them stop.

“They’d like to come,” Penelope said as she bent down to nuzzle the silver wolf as he approached her.

“We cannot take in four wolves as pets, Penelope.”

“Yes we can. They are not pets, they are protectors. I can name them after the Four Horsemen if that will more amenable to their presence?” He chuckled at her wit, pecking her forehead before he placed a guiding hand on the small of her back.

“Our own pack,” he murmured as they all began the walk home.

“Family,” she corrected gently as she admired how he was glowing in the light of the moon.

“Yes. So let’s add to it.” Penelope couldn’t help the laugh that wiggled its way passed her lips, spinning in delight. Michael was following her towards her dreams and she was following him towards his destiny. Neither truly knew what awaited them at the end but Penelope could only believe that their love was strong enough to guide them through. Her heart had always been the most reliable of compasses and right now it pointed at Michael. So she followed it fearlessly.

[iliketowrite1996]

Secrets and Spaces part 3

WARNING- Mentions of infidelity, emotional distress, arguing, fights, trouble processing thoughts and emotions, and anger.

‘’Excuse me?’’

‘’Nisa and Nyala will be sleeping here. At the palace,’’ T’Challa states again, as if you want to hear those awful words spill from behind perfect lips ever again.

‘’No.No, I heard you, but why is she staying here? There are plenty of other places for her and the baby to, T’Challa.’’

You’d even understand if only Nyala stayed here. But, no. T’Challa has the nerve to bring her, Nisa,  to bring the alleged mother of his alleged child into your home.

Suddenly, she is invading every single one of your senses.

You can smell her perfume.

You can picture her sitting in T’Challa’s lap in the chair he is now taking up, her hands pressed to his chest as he presses kisses to her neck.

You can feel, practically feel, the metaphorical dirt and grime on the sheets, in the bed that you share with T’Challa.

The bed that you also shared with him.

You taste the bitterness of her words, of her tone, of her presence.

And the whole thing makes you feel ill.

Ill, and angry.

‘’No.’’

‘’No?’’

‘’No. She is not staying here. I don’t want her here,’’ you demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘’You really don’t get to make that decision,’’ T’Challa reminds you, eyeing you warily.

‘’And you did? Did you do this to save your reputation? Did you forget about your children? The three who are playing somewhere in this place who have already been through so much? The one who I am currently carrying for us?’’

‘’I… I did not think-’’

‘’Of course you didn’t, T’Challa. Because she was here and you were thinking about her and what she wants. Nisa,’’ you roll your eyes, ’’Her name is a bad taste in my mouth.’’

‘’I did this for us. Do you want her to spread this to the public before we have a chance to regain our footing and process it ourselves? Do you need her to stress you out in that way? You are pregnant. We do not want her to cause any stress for you or  the baby, right?’’

‘’I want her out of the palace, T’Challa!  Her being here is what is stressing me out, T’Challa! You know that I don’t trust her. You obviously did, though. Otherwise we wouldn't’ be in this situation,’’ you laugh bitterly, ‘’It’s her. It’s always her, isn’t it?’’

‘’What is that supposed to mean,’’ is voice is low, it’s cool.

It’s dangerous, and you don’t mind dancing with and on the border of truth and hurt.

‘’I guess I’m just asking this- should I expect Nakia to be showing up with a bundle of joy soon?’’

He blinks at you, hurt in his eyes.

And you know there’s a line that you are definitely very, very close to crossing.,

‘’We weren’t even together when this happened,’’ he reminds you, something mysterious cloud over his face, ‘’Who I slept with during that time is really none of your business, now is it?’’

‘’T’Challa, it became my business when she walked through that door with a child, claiming her to be yours! But I don’t expect you to understand’’ you stand, ‘’Now, I don’t want the children to worry too much. So,you are going to come to dinner with us, and we are going to act like a family.’’

It stings- it’s the same attitude that you had with the divorce where you had to pretend that it’s okay.

You were on a high, and now you’re right back at the start.

You exit his office them rubbing a hand on your stomach and desperately wishing you could change the past.

And you apologize to your heart, because here you go again.

Dinner is quiet, save for the children talking to you about their days. T’Challa won’t even look at you, and you can’t tell if it’s because you were wrong o because he regrets his decision.

Either way, it continues into the children’s night time routine, when you are undoing the braids in Adanya hair and brushing her hair out for three eight.

    ‘’Momma,’’ she states as she leans back, her elbows resting on your knees and head laying gently against your pregnant stomach.

    ‘’Yes, baby,’’ you ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

    ‘’Are you and daddy alright?’’

    Adanya is very in tuned with other’s emotions, and it is both good and terrifying. On one hand, she can sense when someone is hurting and he's there for them. She will make a strong yet benevolent queen , you are sure of it.

    Unfortunately, it is a gift that also makes it hard for you to hide things from her.

    So, again, you water down the truth.

    ‘’Daddy and I are fine, love. We just are both tired. Today’s meeting and what was discussed took a lot out of us,’’you explain.

    ‘’So you two aren’t getting a divorce again? We don’t have to move again?’’

    You pause your movements then, stilling the brush in her hair before getting your thoughts together.

    ‘’I can guarantee you this- no matter what happens, daddy and I are going to make things work out in a way that is good for you and your brothers, baby girl. We love you four, okay?’’

    Even if that means you have to take this ring off of your finger

    T’Challa is a man very in tune with hs emotions. In fact, he knows that’s one of the reasons you fell for him- he wears his heart on his sleeve. He does not try to suppress his emotions. It's something you’d told him you like about him on your first date, after having been friends for two years.

    Unfortunately, it’s also the reason that, six months into your divorce, he’d been on a business meeting with Nisa and ended up spilling his guts. She was there and she had a shoulder he could cry on. But, unfortunately for him, she was there, and she had lips that were kissable.

    And she wasn’t you, but she was in the mood for something casual. He craved affection and she needed attention, so they ended up in his chambers. Lips pressed together, hands roaming into places where they’d only ever touched you for the last 10 years at that point, mind wandering off and thinking about how it was a one time thing.

    T’Challa regrets nothing except for the fact that it was her, that he can't ever seem to be rid of her even when he so desperately wants to. He had let her go months before the two of you reconciled in an attempt to try again.

    And, like a circle, here he is, here you are, here they are: Right back at the start.

    ‘’Are you sure you can do a paternity test,’’ T’Challa questions Shuri as he walks down the ramp of her lab with her.

    ‘’I am positive, brother, It may take me time to construct one, but I Will have it done by tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow evening at the latest.’’

    ‘’Thank you, Shuri,’’ he sings, ‘’I just want this whole thing to blow over.’’

    ‘’You don’t need to worry about this, T’Challa. You’ve got enough on your mind. I mean your fiancee’....’’

    Right. You, his fiancee’, who shuffled off to bed as soon as the children had their nightly baths and were asleep. You who turned away  from him, like you hated him.

    He’s not sure that he could blame you if you do.

    ‘’Go to sleep, brother. You can sleep in my room if you’d like to giver a bit of space.’’

    He thanks her and he doe just that, tossing and turning all night as he wonders about the answer to the question:

    Is Nyala really his daughter?

    Meanwhile, you are on the other side of the palace, lying awake and alone with your thoughts.

    You can’t sleep, though, because she is in your palace. It’s the reason you more than agreed when your children showed up,asking if they could sleep with you instead of in their rooms. That is why Adanya is curled on T’Challa’s side of the bed, Abioye is cradled against your chest, and Ado is hanging almost off of the bed, sleeping just like his baba.

    You’re lying awake, looking out of the window, trying to count the stars. They are as beautiful as your children, but as numerous your thoughts.

    You just worked things out with T’Challa. You are set to get married in three weeks, wanting to be wed before the new baby comes and you do not have time to plan a wedding.

    You rub your stomach, wondering how this baby is going to grow up in this mess if Nyala is T’Challa’s daughter, and how your three, lovely children sleeping next to you, who assume their dad is just busy in his office, are going to deal with it.

    How is T’Challa going to handle this, along with the news breaking to Wakanda? This would be a scandal for sure. The elders already are not pleased with this turn of events, that’s for sure. Neither is Ramonda, if her silence is anything.

    You scroll back and look at the message that T’Challa left on your kimoyo beads: ‘’Shuri is designing a paternity test so that we can figure this out as soon as possible. Sleep tight. I love you.’’

    You shut them off for the night them placing the bracelet on the nightstand, careful not to disturb Ado, and then pull him back onto the bed, covering him with a blanket.

    And you try to get some sleep.

    Because this may be the last night of peace you have before everything changes.

    It happens when Ado and Adanya are at school and a nurse is taking care of Ado. Nisa is standing across from you, Nyala balanced on her hip and playing with her doll, oblivious to the battle that is going around her.

    You are next to T’Challa, but only physically- you two did not speak this morning, whether from your own stubbornness or his pride, or vice versa.

     Nisa certainly picked up on it.

    ‘’My king, what is the matter? Do you need me to do anything for you?’’

    ‘’You could’ve never come here in the first place,’’ you grin in fake cheer, rubbing our stomach, ‘’That would’ve helped.’’

    ‘’Is that any way for you to talk to the mother of his child,’’ she sneers at you.

    ‘’I’m the mother of his children, too. Or have you forgotten about that’’ you raise an eyebrow, and T’Challa has to place a hand on your shoulder to calm you.

    Amazing how that works after more than a decade together.

    ‘’Ladies, please. Nisa, do not talk to your future queen like that. My love, don’t engage with her. Don’t stress.’’

    She scowls at his hand on your shoulder but drops it, fussing over Nyala and her hair and clothes instead.

    The baby is giggling, and you feel sorry that she’s been dragged into this whole mess. You can only imagine that Nisa feels the same, but you don’t have time to ponder that right now.

    You’re just glad that this whole nightmare is soon to be over.

    The doors to the throne room open, and in comes Shuri, her paternity test in her hands.

    ‘’What is this?’’

    ‘’You claim that this is my child, Nisa. Did you really think that I would not want proof?’’

    ‘’My word is not proof enough for you,’’ she questions, like she didn't have the gall to break his heart before.

    T’Challa is trusting, but he’s not dumb.

    ‘’I don’t want her to do this paternity test. She is your sister. She may lie about the results.’’

    ‘’Are you questioning my integrity or m technology,’’ Shuri snaps, and you know she’d be far more offended about someone questioning her intelligence and technology, ‘’Either you agree to this, or you have to go somewhere else. Then, the news will break to all of Wakanda, and you’ll have to deal with that. Your choice. I could go back to my lab and then go spoil my nephews and niece.’’

    You’ve never been more grateful for Shuri.

    ‘’Well, get ready to spoil another niece,’’ Nisa hisses, let’s do this.

    The paternity test  will take 24 hours. That’s what Shuri says at least.

    So it is another grueling and agonizing twenty-four hours where you must keep this news from the children, pretend that it’s okay, and be nice with T’Challa although all you want to do is force Nisa out of your palace.

    But here it is. The elders, you, Ramonda, T’Challa, M’Baku, and Nisa are all gathered here, waiting Shuri.

    The doors open up and it seems like the longest wait of your life as Shuri begins to read the results.

    ‘’I have here the results to the paternity test,’’ she gives Nisa a look then shoots you a glance.

    She opens the envelope, and you prepare for the answer.

    And whatever it is, you know you’ll have to deal with it.

    Because there is no way that things are going back to normal.

    ‘’The paternity results state, T’Challa, that-’’

    There’s no turning back now.

DISCLAIMER- I OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT, NISA, NYALA, ADANYA, ADO AND ABIOYE AND THE NEW BABY. ALL MARVEL CHARACTERS AND THEIR FICTIONAL WORLDS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS.

    @soulmates8 @airis-paris14 @greenswishbish @chaneajoyyy

@afraiddreamingandloving  @halfrican-heat @sisterwifeudaku @greenswishbish @airis-paris14 @90sinspiredgirl @shesakillerkween @myboyfriendgiriboy @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @afraiddreamingandloving @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @niecey4cocaine @chaneajoyyy @halfrican-heat  @bezzywazhere @melaninmarvelgirl62 @hutchj @chaneajoyyy @ashanti-notthesinger @niecey4cocaine @melaninmarvelgirl62 @skysynclair19

[bubbletimestories]

Under your beautiful skin

Original story where a Youtube video improves and changes the lives of two roommates, for the better only. When happiness goes through a change of skin, we sometimes have to accept the part of animal that hides in us.

Summary: Narrator tries a strange thing to help her roommate to be happier and it works ! Slowly, Kayla becomes a vixen and feelings (joy, peace, love) that were hidden finally come. 

Warnings: love ? Soft ?

Themes: love, transformation, fox, happiness, soft, friendship, hugs, admiration, protective narrator, shapeshifting

Translated with Google trad ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22403251

________________________________________________________________

February 14th. ------------

Another Valentine's Day which ends with my mother’s disappointed and judgmental text message, who doesn’t understand that you can be happy and single at my age. No big deal, I got used to it. With Kayla, we watched series, devoured everything we could in tacos and M & M’s and it was great. Well, as usual, it was mostly I who ate since K. had a weak stomach and vomited after three bites. However, the day was super good and I even managed to prepare a fabulous hot chocolate. I would have to write down the recipe somewhere, but now I have an intense laziness. Tonight is special, I intend to conduct a small experiment on my dear and tender roommate. I've been trying to help her with her anxiety for a while, and I came across a rather interesting YouTube video that is supposed to help you sleep better and relax. Kayla doesn't believe in all this hypnosis and meditation stuff so I'm going to have to be tricky. I’ve planned a special compilation, added to the soft music she listens to fall asleep, we’ll see if it works. I giggle all alone like a moron, K. will wonder what I'm doing. Otherwise, I would have to think about sending other CVs for the next year because otherwise, I could end up with nothing. But before, I go back to watch The Witcher.

February 27th. ------------

I still managed to sprain myself, believing that a curse surrounded my right ankle. An accident so stupid… : I came back from the supermarket, I sneezed and smack! I tripped against the sidewalk. It only happens to me. Tomorrow, I’ll stay warm in my bed, that's at least the advantage. Speaking of bed, Kayla seems to sleep better for some time ^^ She is more relaxed and smiling, I think it comes from her migraines which are less frequent. Maybe the video really does her good! She didn't realize that I had changed her playlist. She is in better shape and that is nice, proof that my little idea was not bad. Ad. I have to tell what just happened, it's way too funny! I was looking for my cell phone and Kayla offered to ring it. She calls me, I hear absolutely nothing and I'm starting to wonder if I didn't leave it on the bus or something. Suddenly, K. stands up, she holds out a finger to tell me to shut up and she goes to my room, to my dresser. My cellphone was there, among the socks! Totally crazy, she managed to hear it vibrate. Suffice to say that she will boast all evening.

March 18th. ------------

Personally, I don't have much to say, it's pretty calm right now. So I think I'm going to use this journal as a scientific notebook, to record the evolution of my experience. Insert here a mad scientist laugh. Kayla is doing very well and even more than well, she is in great shape. She got back into sport and she eats more meat, I think she likes it more and more, we will have to plan for additional expenses. I don't mind it, I love it but I'm not a big fan of tartare. We have set up a little ritual: once a week, we go for a walk in the nearby forest. It forces me to go out, I'm a homebody type, but Kayla likes to wander between the trees. At the moment, she likes to walk a long way barefoot to "feel the ground better", she tends to straighten up and smell the air at full lungs when we are in the woods, I guess it is what we call a return to nature. Even more than at the apartment, she tends to be pensive, in her own bubble. During these times, she sometimes contracts her fingers and plays her nails on the bark of trees. The temperatures are still quite cool but soon the outings will become more pleasant. I would have to clean my sneakers, wading in the mud doesn't do them any good.

April 03rd. -----------

Marc is an asshole, he gave absolutely nothing for Christine's starting drink and he pulled out to buy the gift. I hate him, I will staple his face with exquisite pleasure. Mum says that he turns me around, that it's a parade of seduction but no thank you, it's not my type. At all. For obvious reasons. But let's go back to Kayla, it's more interesting. I forgot to write it down but I have had the impression that she has changed physically for several weeks. It’s super light but I think her nose is a little thinner, her ears slightly pointed. It makes her look extremely cute. Even her slightly sharp teeth (wow, vampire !) don't spoil anything. Lately, she has looked a bit on reserve. In terms of health, she is on fire, nothing to say about it, she has an ogre's appetite and she is in a good mood but I did feel that something was wrong. She ended up showing me last night : her hair is more numerous, lighter but more numerous. According to her, it started on her arms and legs and on closer inspection, we found that she also had it on her back, right in the back of her kidneys. She hesitates to shave it but I think it would not be a good idea, it is not even ugly.

April 18th. -----------

It spread all over her back and even on her stomach! From a distance, it's invisible, but in bright light, you can see the slight tawny reflection on her skin, it creates a super fine and soft down, I would be almost jealous. She gave up the idea of shaving, I think she loves to run her hand over her hairs, it will become her pride, I feel it. I tease her a little because it starts to go up in the neck, it will win the jaw but frankly, she is super good in her skin and when she smiles, she is radiant.

May 09th. -----------

Kayla knows about the video and I was afraid she might get upset but she jumped on my neck to thank me. She told me that I had a great idea and that she had never felt so alive. It's heart-warming, really, and I took advantage of the hug to tease the light tuft of hair on her ears, it's really one of the most adorable parts of her. That and the golden reflections of her eyes. Oh ! The down has become thicker but so soft ... As I predicted, her fur has become her pride and she takes great care of it, she brushes every night and she learns about the best products to use. She told me that when she goes to bed at night, she feels like she has a tail, but I don't believe her. However, we have been going out in the forest for some time, especially now that the weather is nice. To laugh, Kayla walks on all fours when we are sure that nobody will see her. She spins at an impressive speed and she goes away for a few minutes between the trees. Sometimes she comes back with a pine cone, a stone with a fun shape or color. This afternoon, she came back with a dead bird, it surprised her a lot but we laughed. When she is in her world, she sometimes forgets what she is doing, she says that it is the fox that takes over. I love the expression. I would have to thank the creator of the video because he changed my friend’s life.

May 26th. Video on the narrator's laptop ----------------------------------

Small apartment cluttered with books, clothes, magazines and half-empty food packages. Lying in an armchair, a young auburn-haired woman stares at the ceiling, absently playing with one of her ears. Her bare feet hang over the armrest and the sun casts reflections between fire and gold on her skin and the fine hairs that cover it. The image remains fixed for a few seconds because the narrator contemplates her roommate. Then she calls out to her.

- I want to immortalize our cohabitation. To prove to our children that we were young and pretty. Kayla?

The person concerned does not respond, lost in thought, and her friend must say her first name a second time so that she returns to reality. Her pupils dilate slightly and she turns her head towards the phone with a sheepish smile that lets glimpse of adorable slightly pointed white teeth. Unless it is an optical effect. The fact of being filmed amuses her and she pretends to readjust her worn t-shirt before watching the narrator.

- Sorry, you said? The neighbor makes chicken, I want it. Chicken ! Chicken !

She hops around taking a big voice of ogress, triggering a laugh on the other side of the phone, she will have to be fed, again.

- I promise, I'll go buy some after. For the moment, I just want to keep an image of you like that, with MY t-shirt. Thief. Hey, did you put on nail polish? I love the color.

The picture moves a bit when the narrator reaches out to take her friend’s hand, having fun examining her long, dark, shiny nails. As she eats hers, it will probably never be the same but it is not very serious, it does less maintenance. Kayla watches her with a half smile, her head tilted slightly, cascading her hair over her shoulder, it's about time she combed it. It’s the weekend so she’s in relax mode, loose pants and mint chewing gum to hide the fact that she’s been too lazy to brush her teeth. Her gaze is lost in the air for a few seconds then she grabs the phone to put it on the coffee table.

- Drop it off.

The screen is arranged so that it is now filming the two young women as Kayla slides onto the couch against the narrator, ignoring her petty protests. She has a specific idea in mind and coats herself on her roommate's lap with a pout of a child in need of hugs. It’s almost become a ritual, just like walking in the forest. The young woman lays her head on the knees of her friend and pulls on her t-shirt which is pulled up, revealing a plump hip covered with fur. The narrator's face, half cut by the screen, seems to be blushing and it is with timid gestures that she replaces a wick behind the adorably pointed ear of her roommate.

- You know you're going to end up putting hairs all over me with your nonsense. You behave like a big cat, Kayla, a fickle big cat that stings all the hot water. - Shh. Pet me.

In advance, Kayla closes her eyes and curls up on the sofa while a hand rests on her hair to gently stroke it. The back and forth movement is gradually made more assured, the fingertips coming to touch the neck or the temple while continuing the caresses. If it was a cat, it looks like it purrs but in this case, difficult to put a precise word on the noise of pleasure that vibrates in the throat of Kayla. The narrator soon begins to tickle her behind the ears, visibly feeling the same quiet joy as her friend. The latter smiles by contracting her fingers, wiggles slightly to guide the movements on her scalp. The minutes go by and the moment is ready for drowsiness, the caresses become more spaced out while Kayla seems to be asleep. The hand of the narrator goes down to her cheekbone, caressing the fluffy cheek. That's when the sleeper opens her eyes, her yellow pupils reflecting the light for a brief moment. She half-opens her mouth and gives a teasing lick on the fingers of her roommate who jumps, surprised, then bursts out laughing.

- You are stupid !

She wipes her hand and pushes her friend away to bend over and end the video before her cell phone runs out of battery.

June 19th. ----------- Just for fun, I want to tell you about what happened last night because it was super weird. Before I forget, I found a small job at an ice cream parlor over the weekend so it will allow me to make money. If, in addition, I can eat a few free sorbets , it will be beneficial. But let's go back to my story. It was at night and I was sleeping pretty well when I heard my room’s door creak (I really have to add oil, it sounds like a horror movie). I open my eyes and I realize that Kayla is coming in and I immediately think of a sleepwalking crisis, even if she never did. She approaches slowly, on all fours on the ground and her large eyes have an almost creepy glow in the dark. I do not move an inch and watch her slowly approach the bed, without even daring to withdraw my hand which hangs over the mattress. Kayla stops, sniffs my hand for a long time and I think I see her run her tongue over her lips. But finally, she just licks my nails and lies on the floor. A few seconds later, she is already sleeping, but I had a little more trouble. Anyway, this morning I told her (she was surprised to have slept on the floor) but she doesn't remember anything. I guess it counts as a sleepwalking attack.

August 10th. ----------- It's hot, so hot! I only want to stay cool in the apartment but Kayla does not agree. Right now, we spend more time between the trees than between walls, I think she has a hard time leaving the woods. She agrees to come back later and later and even if I like her a lot, there are times when I get a little annoyed. At least we're in the shade so I'm not going to complain. There, I'm writing leaning against a tree and my roommate has just returned after at least half an hour alone. She is grooming and I realize that her fur has become so thick that she does not bother to put on clothes, except on rare occasions. In fact, it doesn't look like she's naked, I don't feel embarrassed, and neither does she. Probably to be forgiven for dragging me outside, Kayla just lay down at my feet but as I write, I can't scratch her head. Casually, I glance at her and I can't resist the urge to follow the line of her nose to tease the tip, dark and slightly rough. The changes of the past few months are visible now, from the curvature of her back to the skeleton of her face, including her slender ears and slit pupils. But I’m getting lost and I have no more blood in my legs, it’s time to go back.

August, 10th, Late at night. ------------------------

I'm completely drunk! We played the game of shots while watching X-men First class: Prof X puts his fingers on his temple, a shot! I'm devastated, worst idea of my life but it was funny! We laughed throughout the film, the neighbors even shouted. Kayla fell asleep like a sledgehammer, but I'm not sleepy. I watch her snoring, it's funny. She is curled up into a ball and she is very small, she looks like a kitten that we want to pet. This is what is crazy with her, she is constantly changing! It’s not that she is getting smaller but in fact if, a little, it’s as if she could get smaller or bigger depending on her mood. When she wakes up, she stretches back to her normal size and she relaxes her paws with her fingers, it's super crazy. Sometimes she walks but she prefers to stay on all fours, halfway between two states. I realized that in fact, I saw her as a vixen-like woman but that I was all wrong! She has become a vixen who can turn into a woman and she is so much more fulfilled now. I’ve never seen her smile so much in my life and she’s become so beautiful, sometimes I am intimidated when I see her because she is more than beautiful, she is divine. I didn’t say it earlier, but when she’s in the forest and the sun breaks through the branches to light up her red limbs with thousands of flamboyant glares, I’m almost jealous. But I prefer to watch over her because I like being her protector, she trusts me. In fact, I'm a human taking care of a goddess, it's completely clear now! Kayla, the great deity vixen. Who snores. She just gave a super funny growl, I refrain from laughing because I mustn't wake her up. When she dreams, she wrinkles the tip of her nose, it's adorable. It's been a long time since we decided not to see anyone, I feel so privileged, as if I was the only one to have access to a treasure. I love to stroke her fur, run my hand from her head to her legs, following the hollows of her back then sliding on her white belly. She always has funny reactions. But my favorite thing above all is to admire her face, because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life my life my life. Especially her eyes, they are yellow like.... something yellow and pretty, and so big! Sometimes when she looks me straight in the eye, I lose track and I can't remember what I was thinking. I think she saw that it troubled me, it amuses her. She has so much joy in living now. Kayla, I like to think it's a little bit thanks to me that you're doing better, but frankly, I wonder if I'm not the one who is the most gifted. In fact, I'm super tired, I'm going to sleep. Pff ... we had to swallow at least 20 shots, I’m so drunk ...

August 11st. ------------

I want to die ... what made me play this stupid game? And write ! It must be the less hard version of "I sent texts while being drunk" I should rip the last pages but I think it will make me laugh to read them again in a few years. For the moment, I mainly want an ice bath, I'm dying of heat. When I woke up, I realized that I had collapsed like a mass on the sofa and that Kayla had disappeared. She never ran away so I didn't worry too much, especially when I heard noise in the next room. I realize that I often forget the scientific aspect, that I tell the story of an experiment, which is why I have not observed if my roommate has had better alcohol consumption in recent months. In any case, she looked as fresh as usual, sitting on the ground with a piece of meat in her hands. She didn't notice me right away, busy licking the juice on her fingers with care but when she looked up, she didn't seem to recognize me. She frowned and rolled up her upper lip to show her white teeth. I think she groaned so I put my hands up in the air as a sign of appeasement, maybe she had a hangover. Anyway, she calmed down and came to rub my legs to apologize. Whether she wanted to eat me or not, I think there is only one conclusion: stop drinking. Never again.

October 13rd. -------------

Almost Halloween but I don't think Kayla will want to go on a candy tour this year. Too bad, she has a costume all found and absolutely sensational. To tell the truth, I think she remains quite shy about her changes, it's been so long since she has seen anyone… I realize that I have never talked about her tail yet but I will not , because she told me it was something very personal. So, I will respect her choice. It’s not the most important thing anyway. When I said she told me, it was a while ago because she no longer speaks. She no longer finds it useful, much like standing up. It's not disturbing, we learned to communicate without words, she knows very well how to make me understand what she wants. I still don’t know what does the fox say but she has her own language and it's crystal clear. It's all about the way she moves, the modulations of her growling voice, the movement of her red ears or the sparkle teasing in her golden eyes. It’s nice to say that we found our modus operandi, something that belongs only to us. It’s not much different from private jokes. It is getting colder and colder and yet Kayla finds it increasingly difficult to want to return to the apartment. She even stays in the woods for the night, even though I was not comfortable at first. I guess I have a hard time letting her be independent, I want to be able to protect her from everything, which is stupid. It is obvious that little by little, she will want to move away for good, she makes her life. But she knows that she will always have a place in my heart and I feel that it is mutual.

December 22nd. -------------

For the past two days, Kayla has been in the woods despite my insistent calls and even if I try to take it upon myself, I ended up worrying. I stood with my feet in the mud for a long time and night had already fallen long ago when she agreed to point the tip of her nose. To tell the truth, it scared me super. It was dark and she suddenly popped up to jump on me, her eyes shining like two bright moons under the light of my cell phone. I screamed as I fell to the ground and she collapsed with all her weight on me before standing up with an amused look. We laughed for sure, but I quickly went back warm with her to find the comfort of the apartment and give her meat. You never know, maybe she wanted to devour me, hahaha. In any case, she was in a good mood, maybe the wild life does her good. Once showered, I settled on my bed and she jumped on it to join me. We wanted to watch series but the episode was pretty lousy and Kayla was teasing. I read on the Internet that winter was a special time for foxes but I can't remember why. In any case, she was absolutely not interested in Netflix, she preferred to settle on me to purr like a big red cat. I had to resign myself to leaving the series in the background only because K. had slipped her muzzle on my neck and her warm breath tickled me. I caressed her back and closed my eyes to feel the softness under my fingers but also the pulsations of her heart which was beating hard. She started to lick and then chew my lobe and it made me laugh ... The next day she went back into the woods and I think I saw two other foxes watching her from a distance. Maybe she found a group to join, that would be good news. I scratched her between the ears before she spun between the trees and even though I know we're going to see each other again soon, I felt my heart tighten slightly. But it does not matter, I do not intend to operate the same metamorphosis but the link between us is too strong for it to end like that. We are roommates and friends. I’m so happy for the past few months and how she has flourished. Thank you, creator of the video. But I have to stop writing and focus on the file I have to return for early January. Procrastination will kill me.

[asgardianintern]

Hope in the Storm-Part Five

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Her heart crashed to a stop in her chest, her lungs seizing as if in protest of this news. She was reeling, her mind racing; despite the staggering amount of sex they had, she had never considered pregnancy to be a possibility. Since she was young, she'd had a condition that she was told would prevent her from conceiving, that nothing short of surgery could fix it. At the time, she was indifferent about having children, and had dismissed the option of surgery. As she had grown, she had been periodically sad with her inability to carry a child naturally, but she made her peace with it, resigned to the fact that her womb would never be able to harbor life. Subsequently, when she and Loki became sexually active, she had not insisted he use protection. What would be the point when the chances of her conceiving were almost nothing? The key word being almost.

Her first reaction was denial. "There's no way that's possible. I can't get pregnant, you know that." Once, Loki had broached the subject of children, and she had told him of her condition. He had seemed sad at first, but he had covered her in kisses and assured her that she was no less a woman for it, that he didn't love her any less.

Again, glowing spirals of his magic sunk beneath her skin, and after a moment, they disappeared. He shook his head slightly, a dazed look on his face as he absently stroked his thumbs over her hips. "I'm certain of it, my love."

Dumbfounded, Mercy sat up, leaning back on her elbows and staring down at Loki, her face pale, her eyes as wide as saucers, her lips trembling slightly. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely." 

A thousand emotions flickered back and forth in her eyes; fear, worry, happiness, disbelief, panic, acceptance, pride, and wonder all made an appearance. Slowly, a smile spread across her face, though it was tremulous and unstable. 

"We're going to have a baby," she whispered. "You're going to be a father." She reached down and grasped Loki's hand with one of her own, her grip so tight that her knuckles whitened. "And I'm..." The sentence she left unfinished, as if speaking the word would break her heart.

Loki's eyes shone with emotion that threatened to brim over, though his expression was one of absolute joy. "You're going to be a mother," he finished for her, his voice thick with unshed tears. 

Before she knew it, Loki had crawled up beside her, his arms circling her and holding her tightly as she shook, his own body trembling against hers as they wept together. This child, their child, was a miracle. By all physical means, it should have been impossible. But, she reasoned in the back of her mind, she was sleeping with someone whose very existence should also be impossible. It made sense, in a twisted way, and though this was happy news, she was conflicted. For years, she had been accustomed to the idea that she would never have children, and even though she had looked longingly at tiny baby clothes and felt a small twinge of jealousy when she saw young mothers out in public, never once had she considered that children could be part of her future. And now, with Loki's baby growing inside her, the reality of motherhood was looming over her. What kind of parent would she be? How could she possibly care for a baby? What was she supposed to do about doctor's visits, prenatal care? And what was she going to do if she had to raise their child alone?

A chill ran through her at the thought, icy tendrils coiling around her heart. Mercy wanted to be hopeful that it would work out in her favor, that Loki would be allowed to return home with her. They could figure out parenthood together; he would be there when the baby began to kick, when they found out if they were having a girl or a boy. He could see their child come into this world.  

But for her own sake, she forced herself to be realistic. It was likely Loki would be imprisoned, but for how long nobody seemed to be able to tell her. And though she felt a sharp ache in her chest every time she thought about it, it was entirely possible that Odin would put Loki to death. How was she supposed to deal with losing her dearest love while raising their child alone? Was she strong enough to handle it if the time ever came?

A gentle tap to her forehead brought her out of her turbulent thoughts, and she looked up to see Loki smiling down at her. His eyes were warm, but there were flickers of sadness threaded through the green, as if he had guessed what she was thinking about. Mercy did her best to return his smile, but when her lips couldn't seem to form it, she pressed them to his, aligning the curve of her mouth to his. Loki surrounded her with his body, wrapping himself completely around her and kissing her like a priest at communion, with reverence and humility and hope. Her fingers carded through his hair, combing out the tangles and smoothing it against his temples and the nape of his neck. For the first time since she had woken up that morning, Mercy felt safe.

As usually happens between two people who are hopelessly in love and frightened of the future, their gentle touches soon became clumsy and hurried by passion. Mercy wasn't exactly sure when Loki had taken off her nightgown, if he had peeled it off, ripped it open, or just magicked it away, but as he suckled greedily at first one nipple, then the other, she didn't really give it much thought. It wasn't long before she was ready, her body wet and warm and aching for him. She reached down and rubbed her palm over the straining leather that was the only barrier between her hand and his cock, but before she could slip her hand into his trousers to stroke him, Loki grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from him, shooting her a warning look.

Before she could ask why he'd removed her hand, he'd edged his way down her body until he was kneeling on the floor at the end of the cot, his hand tugging at her ankles to bring her to the edge. Loki placed her feet on his shoulders, wrapped his arms around her thighs to hold her still, and buried his head between her legs. Mercy let out a whine as his tongue parted her swollen folds, biting down hard on her lip when he sucked at her clit. It felt sensational, as it always did, but this time, this wasn't what she wanted. She'd given him a very clear sign that she wanted him inside her. Why had he refused her?

"Loki," she murmured, threading her hands through his hair. As if he hadn't heard her, or was hoping to distract her, he slid two fingers inside her as his tongue massaged her clit, switching between slow circles with the flat of his tongue and teasing flicks with the tip. Mercy gave a jolt and a cry, but she wasn't sidetracked for long. Her tugs at his hair became more insistent, until finally, Loki raised his head with a sigh.

"I'm trying to make you come, woman. Cooperate with me, please."

Mercy shot him a pleading look. "I want you inside of me, Loki. Now."

Again, Loki tried to distract her, spreading open her lips and rubbing his thumb in circles around her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her squeal. "Don't you want this? You've always loved the way I can twist you into knots with my hands, the way I can make you dance on the tip of my tongue. You love that I know just where to stroke..." His fingers ran along the inside of her lips, teasing the sensitive inner lining. "And where to lick..."

"Loki..." she whined, squirming against the soft furs. "Why won't you make love to me?"

His teasing touches stopped cold, his hands falling to the bed as he buried his head in her stomach, his breath warm as he sighed. "I don't..." he began uncertainly, reaching up to seek her hand with his own, his fingers warm and solid between hers. "I don't want to hurt the baby." His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, murmured against her skin like a confession, and Mercy realized that while he historically had children of his own, had even birthed one himself, he had no idea what physical toll his progeny would take on her, or how delicate the child was. He was scared; in these bare moments where his very life could hang in the balance, he was scared for the safety of her and their baby.  

She smiled softly, reaching with her free hand to lift his head from her. "You won't," she whispered soothingly, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "She's still very small, and as long as you don't get too rough, she'll be perfectly safe."

"She?" Loki raised his eyebrows, leaning his face into her hand. Mercy hadn't meant to say 'she,' but as it came out of her mouth, it felt right to say.

Her thumb traced the curve of his lower lip, humming as he kissed it, scraped his teeth against her skin. "The baby will be fine, Loki. We both will be." Her hands grasped his shoulders, pulled him up to her kiss. Her legs wrapped around his hips, opening herself up to him, just as she had opened her heart and home to him. "It'll be alright, sweetie," she murmured against his mouth. "Don't be afraid." 

Loki's eyes searched hers, shining with love and uncertainty, and he relented, his lips crashing upon hers like waves upon a shore, his hands shaking as he pushed his breeches down and guided himself to her entrance. There was a moment of hesitation, but it was blessedly brief, and he entered her slowly, with reverence. She threw her head back, wanting to close her eyes against the sheer pleasure of being filled and surrounded by him, but she wouldn't. She would not waste a single moment of this night, this momentous night. 

His hands cupped her breasts, his face buried against her throat as he rocked against her, not a single movement hurried. This was not a time for frantic lust or blinding passion. This was a time for love, for comfort, for slow-burning pleasure and a thousand tender kisses. Hours passed like mere minutes, yet it felt as though they had been joined for days. And when she finally eased into her release, the agonizing ache all the more sweet for its long build, it felt as though whatever gods looked down upon them now had taken pity on the two lovers, had stopped time around them to allow this one, shining moment. Loki had finished only seconds after her, coming with a broken groan and a murmur of her name, the syllables like an ancient prayer on his tongue. They collapsed together, man, woman, and their unborn child, upon that small bed covered in rumpled furs, and though they tried to keep their exhaustion at bay, it wasn't long before their eyes drifted shut, asleep in a tangle of limbs, unaware of the chaos beyond the prison walls, for the time unafraid of what the future might bring.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Say you Do. || Chapter Five.

The marimba alarm tone and a cold breeze from the open window stimulate me from my sleep at three o’clock in the morning. The groan beside me informs me of Harry’s awakening, alongside mine, and it is obvious he is unamused. The plan to wake up this early was Harry’s idea of running ahead of time, one he mapped out messily on a notepad. We are on our way to New York City and are fondly looking forward to Harry’s new album debut. Harry has worked hard on his album and now is the only time he has to be able to debut things and do promo.    

I lay motionless on the left side of the bed, feeling the duvet pulling against my bare skin as Harry leans over to shut off the alarm from his nightstand. I shiver as I become slightly exposed, falling deeper into the thick sheets in an attempt to cocoon myself.

“Why did I do this to myself?” Harry groans, placing himself around me as he settles back into bed. “These are the ugly hours.”

“I don’t want to go to New York that badly,” I reply. “How about we skip it, Styles?”

Harry’s chest vibrates against my back as a raspy laugh escapes his mouth. He places a kiss on the bend of my neck.

“You wish, baby.” His words become muffled as he nuzzles closer to me. “New York, here we come!” his tone of voice is enthusiastic, something I have not heard in quite a while.

I mentally roll my eyes, dreading the seven and a half hour flight, not to mention the buzz of the airport. I am sure by now everyone is aware that Harry Styles is flying out to debut his latest album, another album to add to the collections of his pride and joy.

“We need to get up before we are off schedule.” He informs me, moving to place a gentle kiss to my warm cheek before his warmth manages to wiggle away from me, leaving me with coldness between the sheets and a pout across my lips.

“We can’t have your schedule disrupted now, can we?” I grin, cocking my head while my eyes observe his as they lower onto me as his hands reach for the sweater he desires to wear.

He pulls the sweater over his body before his hands run through his silky curls, “Don’t need any of your teasing of my meticulous schedule. Up we get.” He instructs with a sweet-sounding voice, forcing my body to leave the comfort of our bed.

Despite the ungodly hour and my excessively tired eyes, Harry’s soft hums radiate as he takes the last bag from the pile that at one time sat by the front door. He places it in the black Cadillac running in our driveway, sent to escort us to the airport, just as his sister arrives. Bounding out rather excitedly for the hour it is, I don’t know how, but she is far more a morning person than what her brother and I are, it is almost as if she gets a thrill out of early morning errands. All I can say is, I am grateful to have someone who is willing enough to be awake at an hour like this, to watch her niece.

We sit close together in the backseat of the cold SUV. I shiver against Harry, tucking myself closer to him in an attempt to obtain some of his body heat. Luckily for us, our home is situated quite close to the city, making Harry’s trips that much easier. Although I can’t tell if the feeling in my stomach is that of excitement or nervousness, it weighs on my chest like a bag of rocks, and I find myself struggling for sufficient breaths.

“You alright?” Harry asks quietly, the driver looks on at us momentarily through the rearview mirror.

I nod into his shoulder, “Just a little nervous.”

“I know.” He pushes strands of my, messy, hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Just relax.”

There is nothing to be seen through the windows, the early morning remains dark the whole way to the airport. We thank our driver and offer him a generous tip before tiredly exiting with our bags in hand. 

Infamously chilly London air grazes my skin, blowing my hair in a tornado as we rush to the glass doors. The bright lights of the airport blind me, and I quickly find myself feeling out of place and confused. Harry, on the other hand, seems to know exactly where to go in this maze. Agonizingly, the jet we are taking awaits us on the opposite end of the airport. Between rushing through the halls to find our terminal, and missioning through security checks, my legs are quickly growing shaky and weak beneath me.

“Who knew we had to be checked to go on a private jet?” Harry whispers down at me. “Thought I would be home-free by now.”

“We get it, Harry,” I nudge my hip into his leg. “You’re rich and have a private jet.”

“Would you prefer to fly normally?” He glances down at me, causing me to all of a sudden become rather appreciative for his wealth and the jetliner; flying doesn’t settle well with me, the idea of being so far up in the air with nothing to hold onto but the seats and the armrest does not sit well with me.

“Coming to think of it, much prefer not to fly.” I smile up at him, watching as he stifled a small chuckle before leaning down and kissing me sweetly.

“I know, but we need to. I thought flying private would put you a bit more at ease. Come on, we can board now.” He laces his fingers with mine and benevolently draws me to travel with him towards the isolated terminal that is gated off just for us.

I have never been inside his jet, he has had it only for a few months and I have been caught up in other things to worry about his million-dollar jet. My eyes immediately grace the chromatic leather of the seats and how the interior matches everything so excellently. No wonder he was so damn picky with what he wanted to invest his money in. He did an outstanding job of choosing this piece of aircraft, I am astounded by its arrangements.

After being approached by the pilot, the two of us are left to settle in, Harry wandering off while I sink into my seat, all while the jet is checked one last time by maintenance. I run my hands nervously over the leather armrest, adjusting my body to the seat as I clip my seat belt, allowing it to rest in the usual position.

Harry catches my attention as he comes back into view, a cerise flushed blanket in his hands before it is gingerly placed over my legs, and Harry kisses my forehead, “We are close to taking off, need anything while I am up?” He gently offers, promptly taking my hand as my eyes widen imperceptibly at the notion of taking off. “Breathe, don’t forget to breathe.” He comments, “It’s okay my love, I promise.” He continues, sitting down beside me, his fingers still laced with mine.

I do my best to stay serene and collected, I hate when I begin to feel this way, especially on a flight that I know is going to be seven long hours. I feel him squeeze my hand benevolently, something he does to reassure me that he is right there beside me, something that speaks louder than the words he could possibly emit. I lean my head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath before my sudden thoughts get the better of me.

“How do you know we will be okay? Private planes fly higher than commercial planes, we will be around forty-five thousand feet in the air or higher.” I stammer, a flood of random information on jets and commercial flights circling my enraged thoughts, “So much can go wrong in seven hours.”

“Hey,” Harry hushes me softly, “Listen to me, it’s okay, you’re safe. I need you to breathe, eight deep breaths,” He instructs, moving the armrest up before unbuckling me, tugging me closer to him.

I comply with his instructions, taking eight profound breaths in an attempt to calm myself.

You’d think I would be used to the flying and all that is associated with it, considering the fact that Harry’s career revolves around flying, but it does not get any easier with each flight I take. In fact, I feel as though the anxiety inside me is worse each time.

“There we go,” Harry breathes, considerately parting ways with my body as he is given a signal that the pilot would like to start moving within the next few minutes.

With shaky hands, I grab my seatbelt, but they are mildly pushed away by Harry’s warm hands, taking over and buckling me up, gently tugging at the seat belt, another gesture he does so I can physically see that I am perfectly safe and locked in. I adjust the blanket around me and rest my head back against Harry’s arm, his hand taking its place with mine, giving me more sense of security.

My nerves prevent me from obtaining a blink of sleep on the seven-hour flight. Instead, I sit and watch the changing skyline as we pass over many locations, and the dark wide ocean. Harry, on the other hand, sits close beside me, curled up as much as possible against my side. The blanket we share is pressed up against his cheek, provoking his lips into a pout. Under the blanket, he holds both of my hands, occasionally running the pad of his thumb over my knuckles.

The view out the window would never compare to that of which was situated beside me. My husband is a view I could look at for years to come. Although my fate with him is unpredictable, I quite enjoy my time with him while it lasts.

And I hope it continues to last.

Upon arrival in New York, we are escorted through the blaring crowd outside the gates. The cheering people around us snap photos, some even shout questions that slip out of my ears without regard. This popularity is wildly good for Harry’s new album, and that can only mean one thing, his promotional plan is working exactly the way it is supposed to.

As we rush into another large and dark vehicle, we wait on Harry’s staff to collect our bags and throw them into the trunk for us. I remain quiet in the confines of the tinted car, looking on at the people who greatly surround us. This scene is one I will never get used to, and I will never enjoy the amount of fame I have been brought into.

The hand squeezing mine is what anchors me. As I feel this contact I glance away from the growing crowd around us and look over at the illuminated man beside me. He is glowing with pride, powered by the fuel of his fans. I could never take this away from him, but I could remove myself from it. This is his dream, and, I simply put up with it.

“I love you,” He whispers to me.

“I love you.” I lightly reply, looking down at our intertwined hands.

We head back to a hotel in the city, granted time to sleep before we are off again on our busy journey. I will be accompanying Harry to all of his promotional tasks, he says it’s for good luck. 

As soon as we enter our room, I take in the size of our suite but waste no time in climbing into bed in my full attire. As my head hits the feather pillow, Harry joins me to my left, his arm around me. For a moment, with his arms around me, I feel like I am home. But I am far from there, and the arms around me belong to a subject that remains undetermined. I forget the subject of our relationship as I slowly sigh, turning to face Harry. 

I had expected to turn to him for some sort of last-minute reassurance; I need reassurance that we will be okay, even though the fate of our relationship is in my hands, being wrapped in his arms gives me the only feeling of home that I have. I don’t want to lose this feeling of security, but I don’t know how to keep it. 

How can I keep something at bay that seems to be sailing with the wind?

I smile to myself, his soft snores filling the room as he nestles closer against me, holding me closer, and in a way, giving me that small sense of reassurance. 

He is the four walls of my home— he is my safe haven. 

I allow myself to rest into him, the rhythm of his rising chest and the sound of his soft snores eventually lulling me to sleep. 

❅ ❅ ❅

We stand silently alongside a tall man dressed in black, shifting our weight in unison to fill the gap. I look up at Harry, smiling as he reciprocates my emotions. I can’t see his eyes past his sunglasses, but seeing myself in this manner is a pleasant sight. I am capable of happiness.

The doors open directly to the lobby, giving us a clear view of the crowd gathering beyond the glass doors. Immediately, I feel overwhelmed, and my chest tenses. I take a deep breath, getting a handle on this for Harry as his hand tightens around mine. Upon laying eyes on the open doors, and seeing Harry, the group outside becomes ecstatic. Approaching them makes my ears ring, and as the doors open the deafening shouting surrounds me. Suddenly, I am encased in nothing but anxiety.

I want to desperately escape my environment, but the vehicle before me now looks miles away. I look down at my feet as I continue on, for what seems like an eternity. I count my steps, losing count at least twice on my way there. This seems to be the only way I can minorly calm myself. I glance back up, feeling as though we have barely moved in the crowd I am stuck in.

Harry, who was at one time beside me, has manoeuvred in front of me, leading me in a rushed manner into the car. Finally, we reach our escape, he stops momentarily, allowing me in first.

Harry waves to those around him, and he is enthused by the hype he has received. It’s written all over his face when he turns to me, smiling from ear to ear in pure bliss.

“You alright?” He asks me softly, laying his hand on my thigh.

I force a laugh as I push the hair from my face, I want to disappear more than ever. “Couldn’t be better.” I sarcastically respond. “But, it is good your promo is working.” 

Harry nods, “I know this isn’t easy for you, thank you,” he leans over and kisses my warm cheek. “I appreciate everything you do to support me.” 

I offer Harry a small smile and nod my head, grateful to be acknowledged for my efforts. I am trying, I am trying my best to get through all of the commotion. I am trying my best to be the wife that Harry needs right now; I am trying my best to be the wife that I haven’t been lately. Lately, I haven’t been as supportive, I’ve been wrapped up with myself and the struggles of everything. 

“I’m trying,” I whisper, feeling a deep need to express in words that I am trying. 

Believe me, I’m fucking trying. 

We travel deeper downtown, and traffic is as slow as expected. The view beyond us is just a sea of people, yellow cabs and skyscrapers. Our chat has been nothing but small talk; I have focused my energy on calming down and Harry has allowed me the quiet time to do so while he checks emails.

“Want to take a risk?” Harry whispers, sitting up and going for his belt.

I squint at him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Harry?”

“Do you trust me?”

I pause, unsure of what trouble my answer can get me into, “Yes.”

“Then let’s go,” He says, unlatching his belt. “Let’s just walk in New York City, let’s genuinely enjoy something for once.”

“Harry—,”

He cuts me off by pulling me towards him for a hurried kiss, “Trust me.”

I unlatch my belt as Harry instructs the driver to continue on and meet us at our destination, while we take off on foot. I shift beside Harry, holding his hand as he hops out of the car, with me not far behind. The traffic is completely stopped, and quickly, we rush to the sidewalk where we go unnoticed by those around us. 

Finally, I feel normal beside him.

We turn onto different avenues, and the scenery around us begins to look familiar in my mind. Harry knows exactly where to go, and within the next five minutes, we are feet away from our destination.

At this moment, I am struck with memories. I know exactly where we are. I’m suddenly winded, and my hand flies to sit on my chest.

“Oh, Harry,” I gasp, looking up at him.

He smiles at me, pulling me closer to him as he rubs my arm. “What would a trip to New York City be without a date to Gramercy Tavern?”

This is the bearings where Harry took me before our engagement. I remember the night as if it were yesterday, and I will continue to keep it commemorated in my memory for the rest of my life.

I will never forget dancing under the stars with him, beneath the sky of New York City.

We sit at the exact same table that we sat at a few years ago, the night Harry proposed to me. It is nestled perfectly in the corner, away from the windows, secluded, you could say. As I take a breath and look around, I notice how the surroundings have barely changed in the years elapsed between then and now, the only thing that seems remarkably different is there are no longer white candles lit on the table, but now there are small lanterns. I haven’t been back to this place since that night, the night the man of my dreams got down on one knee to take my hand in marriage. I wasn’t expecting it. We had discussed marriage many times prior to the actual proposal, but him proposing was sudden. Sudden, but perfect.

We spend the afternoon reminiscing enjoying each others company while chuckling about the past, a constant reminder of how we used to be. I don’t know where things started to turn south, but we used to be so happy together, always trying new restaurants and new foods, travelling to new destinations and seeing what the world had to offer. I want that back, I want us back.

I smile over at Harry as he signs for the meal we just indulged in. He glances up from signing the small paper, his eyes casting upon me, “Ready to go, lovely?” He softly questions, waiting for my approval. I nod, already standing up and reaching for my coat that I previously draped over my chair.

I wait for Harry to get his coat up to his arms and his wallet back in his pocket before his hand laces with my own, a gentle kiss pressing to my cheek. We waltz our way around the restaurant, making our way towards the exit, the large glass doors the only thing between us and them.

I look up at Harry, my nerves already beginning to race as I comprehend the many, many, fans outside, all of them with their phones ready to take pictures. Not to mention the few paps that have terribly attempted to blend in with fans.

I had thought these phases had ended back when the band ended, apparently, I was wrong.

“It will be okay, come on. It is the only way out. We have done this before, I am right beside you.” He squeezes my hand, trying to be reassuring but failing epically. I wish this was just a phase, but it clearly is an ongoing occurrence.

He pushes the heavy doors open, exposing us to the harshness of the cold weather and the sound of overly excited fans, questions and statements being thrown at as instantly. I shift my body as close to Harry as possible, our feet shuffling along the pavement, fans’ getting closer and closer, invading my personal space. It’s scary to have people you don’t know trying to take pictures of you, grabbing you, and throwing questions around like they are the jury in the court system. After so many years, I still have failed to get used to the whole concept.

I try my best to stay composed, Harry’s hand leaving mine, his arm now wrapping around me to hold me closer, something he does when the gaps between us and the fans are being filled.

“Right here, I’ve got you.” I hear him mumble in my ear, my mind racing along with my heart as everything just feels as though I am being suffocated, the air inside my lungs torturing me and slipping from my grasp.

Mentally I feel like I can’t breathe or move, the hype around me far more than what I can deal with. Physically, I keep going.

Harry answers a few questions and politely asks for space, doing his best to get us out of the mobbing crowd and to a more safer location, preferably one without other people. I don’t like to be confined or closed in small spaces, it makes me feel weak and at a loss of control.

I can feel my body quivering as I am shuffled along the pavement, Harry being the one to push us through the crowd. He is always the one that has to take control of these situations. I just can’t— I choke up—  my body wants to shut down in these situations.

When we are finally free of the tormenting mob, the pictures, and the questions, I inhale and exhale deeply and I pull my body away from Harry’s, not wanting the warmth of his embrace or the words of his assurance.

Our journey to the car is quick and separate. And the ride, much like the first, is silent, but this time I am uncomfortable. The city doesn’t amuse me much as it did prior to now, and suddenly, I can feel myself falling to pieces at my mental questioning.

I am the subject of my own mental misuse.

Harry seems to be confused by my sudden change, and honestly, I am too. But this sudden realization I have made has altered my interpretations, and I am far too deep now in analysis to return to my mindless self.

Upon returning to the hotel it is the same routine again. A crowd, my anxiety, Harry’s words and flashing lights. This, for some reason, has set me off in ways unimaginable.

It feels like my feet are stuck to the concrete as we quickly approach the hotel doors, hand in hand. I am being dragged by Harry into safety. I can see he is timid now, it’s like he knows I am a ticking time bomb, and it is a matter of time before I completely explode — destroying everything in my path.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks in the elevator, leaning against the mirrored walls.

I see myself in the reflexion, and my outer appearance somehow also reflects my inner emotions. I’m drained, it’s been a single day and I am defeated.

“I can’t,” I shake my head. “Harry, I can’t.”

“Emily.”

“Harry, I’m falling apart.” I weep, breaking down before him as I have many times. “I’m so anxious, I shouldn’t be here with you.” 

This was all a bad idea, I should have known better than to take on far more than I can handle at the moment. To most, this would be a simple task, but for me, someone who has done this for years and kept quiet about how much everything affects our lives, it is difficult. 

“I don’t understand…” Harry breaks off, inching near me as he doesn’t break eye contact.

“I’m tired.” I cry. “I’m tired of the crowds, and the flashing lights and all the commotion. This life, it’s not for me, Harry, and I’m sorry but I can’t handle this anymore.” I throw my arms up in defeat. “We shouldn’t even be here together, we’re getting divorced.”

“Emily, I love you,” Harry whispers, shaking his head as I watch him fight back tears. “Those papers, they don’t mean anything to me. They won’t make me fall out of love with you.” His hand reaches for my left hand, and his fingers run over my wedding ring. “Please.”

I find myself crying, even more, denying his words immediately. “I can’t,” My voice is strained against my tight throat. “Harry, I tried. I’ve been trying this whole time, but I can’t force myself to pretend anymore.” We’re looking at each other, tears line our faces and leave us with cold streaks on our cheeks.

Harry’s hand raises to my cheek, wiping a tear that came racing down. “I know you love me.”

“I do,” I agree. “You know I always will.”

“Then why are you leaving me? What can I do to save us? If it’s all the commotion around us, me, then I’ll end it.” He tries to compromise. “All of this is insignificant when it comes to you.”

“I need to go home,” I weep, sniffling as I look downward. “I don’t want to think about Gramercy Tavern, or New York City, or how in love I am with you anymore.” I shake my head, pushing the thoughts out. “I need to think about myself, and I need to figure out what is best for me.”

My words spill out, lacking coordination and logic. My feelings, my mood swings, and a deep pit in my core needs to be justified, but my sudden outburst does everything but that. I feel Harry breaking under me, his confusion is probably spinning in his head as I drop my bomb on him. Now only am I falling apart, but those around me, the man I am hopelessly in love with, is washing away from me.

How tragic, for me, that I am so endlessly in love with someone, but lack the feeling of content due to my own personal battles. How selfish of myself to obliterate everything good in my life, and ruin relationships, due to my own unhappiness.

“Tell me you love me, just one more time, to clear my conscience.”

“You know I love you,” I step towards him, “Harry, I have to fight my demons before I am able to get back to where I was years ago. Me telling you that I love you, will not make my problems disappear, and it definitely will not erase my signature on those papers.”

“This is a marriage. Your struggles are mine; is this how we end?” Harry questions and I look down once again, not giving an answer to his rhetorical question. “If that is what you truly want, Emily, I will not cage you anymore.” He is distancing himself from me now, “I can’t keep forcing my love on you, I can’t keep formulating reminiscent outings for us if they continually fail to show you that I am still as wildly in love with you as I was all those years ago, Emily.”

“I don’t know if my state of mind is in the right place for this to be a concrete decision,” I rush at him, quickly covering my once anxious and rushed break up, as the consequences of my previous outbursts begin to weigh on me. “We need to have a mature conversation, at a time where I am not completely losing my mind.”

Harry nods, turning to pace for a few prolonged moments. He pulls at his bottom lip, allowing a pressured breath to escape his chest.

“I’ll schedule a flight home,” He says, now looking down at his phone, avoiding my teary gaze. “But, I’m coming with you.”

I don’t fight his proposal, I know that travelling alone would only be worse for me. I find it hard to formulate how this flight could possibly play out, considering my flaming mood swings. For a moment I lean against the wooden dresser before our bed, watching as Harry meticulously arranges my great escape.

For this, I am eternally grateful.

Before, I assume, Harry can finalize our plans, his phone screen darkens. On the screen I see the contact name ‘Home,’ backgrounded with a photo of myself and Sophia My heart sinks, for the little girl who sits at home, sheltered from the warzone she is completely unaware of.

Harry answers, after hesitating for a split second. His greeting is cheerful, and the soft voice on the other end reciprocates his emotions. I softly smile at the interaction. Harry looks up at me, holding a finger up before removing the phone from his ear.

“Pretend everything’s fine,” He instructs, before putting the phone on speaker for us to both talk to our daughter.

I’ve been doing it for years.

[x-mentalia]

Thank you for your submission, the mods have accepted your application into the ring. Please have your blog ready by 06/02! Name: Olena Shevchenko

**I just want to say something really quick: Within my app, there are some vague mentions of things like abuse (like child abuse and spousal sexual abuse) but I didn’t put much detail, there’s only mentions in passing as needed. I just wanted to give a heads up before anyone goes in and gets surprised. Thanks!!

Name: Olena Shevchenko

Country: Ukraine

Alias (Optional): Vesna

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 36

Species (Mutant/Human): Mutant

Group: X-men

Appearance (1-2 Paras): Olena stands at a fairly intimidating 5 feet 10 inches, and has a naturally strong body shaped like a barrel, complete with a strong stomach and noticeable biceps and leg muscles. She’s a big girl, that’s for sure, never having been very small. She does carry some extra weight on her hips and thighs, making her look soft, but she’s actually very strong and resembles a weightlifter. Her chest grabs attention most places she goes, boasting a G cup these days after two children; but the rest of her body is proportioned so she doesn’t look too top heavy. She has very short light golden blonde hair and big blue eyes that are sharp like a hawk’s. Even through the things that she’s seen, her face is still fairly youthful, with hardly a hint of crows’ feet, or 11s between her eyebrows, or laugh lines marking the outsides of her natural downturned pout. Really, she has sharp, sculpted beautiful features upon her face that have lent her a few too many objectifying comments that usually included her body too. Her hands are far from feminine, rather with wide knuckles and palms and short nails, too busy with work to deal with pampering.

Face Claim (OCs must answer): It’s not that important but I do use the model Sveta Utkina as a reference. Even though her body type is totally wrong and she’s grown her hair out since I started using her, I’m still in love with her face.

Personality: Overwhelming and overbearing are traits typically associated with Olena. She talks, a lot, and she’s awfully nosy, unable to get her nose out of other people’s business. She almost always has something to say, but it’s typically good-natured. Her somewhat lacking knowledge of English being noticeable with incorrect grammar and searching for unknown words, coupled with the way she feels all emotions so intensely, tends to make her come across as tactless; but rest assured that everything comes from the bottom of her big heart. She was born with a maternal instinct and a passion for caring for others, and she always goes more than out of her way to make it known that she cares. She’ll take care of you even if you protest and tell her you’re fine. And she seems to have this instinct that tells her something is wrong, whether someone isn’t feeling well or something bad is going to happen; it isn’t a power, it’s just a weird instinct that tends to be right.

She’s weird—so weird—and doesn’t give a damn if somebody thinks so; her purpose in life, after all, is not to please others with her existence. The way she rambles about obscure subjects, especially medical cases and phenomena that she’s experienced in her nursing career, shows that she’s not very affected by the gory or the macabre, rather finding it all fascinating and worth examining to learn from. You can find her watching disgusting horror movies and she will just be picking apart the inaccuracies of the gore. She’s also extremely blunt with her words, lending from the fact that she’s not well-versed in euphemisms or anything else non-literal in English. She will speak her mind; and although she’s not the most eloquent in English, a fact that sometimes bothers her a little, she will not mince her words and make everything as clear as she can, speaking her mind freely. She isn’t private about herself or her thoughts, only hiding things to protect her family. This can easily be traced to her abusive childhood, and her loveless former marriage, spanning years of being unable to speak her mind or do as she pleases; now, she uses her ‘freedom’ to make up for lost time.

Oh, and it’s terribly obvious that Olena usually sees things in black and white. Good and bad, no in between, because, at heart, she is an incredibly fierce woman. Though many may see a loving mother and friend, she is also a fighter, unafraid of getting her hands dirty. And though she is affectionate, often calling others sweet pet names, she has a bit of a fatalistic, pessimistic streak that pushes her to always be ready. You might never have met someone so protective of their children, but Olena would walk backwards into hell for her daughter and son. People who have wronged her—her parents, her ex husband—are often Olena’s motivation for doing things, to show she can be so much better than she was always assumed to be.

She is wild, passionate, and untamed, having the ferocity of a dedicated warrior. She is thoroughly dedicated to her causes and to her allies and friends. She is a lionness, waiting to pounce.

Strengths: Physically strong; great control and skill with her powers; generous; well meaning; thoughtful; openminded

Weaknesses: Proud; often lets her emotions take control; overbearing; crass; forgetful; nosy

Backstory (2-3 Paras): On August 24, 1981, a pair of twins were born in Kyiv, a boy and a girl. The boy, named Orest, quickly became his parents’ pride and joy; while the girl, Olena, became an afterthought. The couple were never interested in having a girl, which became amplified when they had three more boys over the next several years. All four of the boys were treated with care, even though the family was essentially in poverty; whilst Olena was meant to take care of the home and the younger boys while their parents were working. She had little freedom, not even being able to make her own choices about her appearance, and for her whole childhood she had very long hair and was forced to wear unsightly clothes, as her quickly developing body gave her a bad reputation and was a subject of her parents’ constant torment.

Living somewhere like Ukraine, and having abusive parents, can really throw off a sexuality crisis even more; and the poor girl just thought she was going crazy when she began to have strange thoughts. But it was never at the forefront of her mind, as Olena’s powers first began to show up when she was twelve—a private emotional outburst led to a dead field bursting into bloom with dandelions. She didn’t have much time alone to mess around with these strange abilities, however, until she was a few years older. Despite being very intelligent and making high marks in school, Olena’s parents just wanted her to get married, as they believed taking care of a house and having children was all she was good for. At the time, the legal age for girls in Ukraine to marry was 17; so in 1998, at the age of 17, Olena wed Anton, a man several years her senior

Olena entered the marriage with a lack of affection for Anton, and a plan. She agreed to marry the creep, who had an obsession with her (or rather, her body), and ride it out for a few years so she could obtain a degree. She was actually successful in not consummating their marriage for a couple of years, as she used her nursing program as an excuse as to why she wasn’t home; when she was actually finishing shifts at her job and classes at the medical school, she would stay out even later so she could mess around with her powers in private and become more familiar with them, discovering some fascinating things.

Eventually though…

Kalyna was conceived and born in 2001. Olena still had enormous contempt for her husband, but she felt nothing but love for her daughter. Having completed her nursing degree the year prior, she didn’t have much time to recover after the birth before going back to work in the children’s ward of the hospital she worked at. With Kalyna in the care of the mother of a friend, Olena worked her fingers to the bone to make sure her daughter would have a good life. On days off, she would take her baby to the outskirts of the city, avoiding Anton, and have quiet time whilst practicing with her powers.

It was an uptick in crime in an adjacent neighborhood that first drove Olena to really test out her abilities as a heroine. Enlarging and manipulating some pitiful plants growing between cracks in the sidewalk helped her apprehend a shooter one night, making the plant wrap around his leg and cause him to trip and fall, keeping him in place while help came.

Symon was born when Kalyna was 3 years old, and Olena was still working herself to death at the hospital, though she loved her job dearly, almost as much as she loved her children. She had practically no rest, in between working and caring for her kids and gaining a reputation as a quiet vigilante. Never letting herself be fully seen, the strange occurrences with the plants became linked with a figure that became known under several names, including Jaryla, Kupala, Lada, Vesna (all of which being Slavic pagan deities relating to plants), and even Demeter; but Vesna seemed to stick the most, both in the press and in public opinion. And public opinion was still split in Kyiv, and Ukraine at large, among mutants. There was (and still is) distrust of the government, questioning many of their decisions; though mutants did not technically have legal discrimination, they were still treated poorly by many government officials. But much of the public saw mutants as the children of or even new reincarnations of the old pagan gods.

And some of those mutants sure could protect them even better than the police.

Caring for sick children by day, helping needy citizens by night… Olena embraced the Vesna figure and eventually made herself a costume so she could disguise herself while putting herself out to help more. Though she was based in Kyiv, and her schedule was restricted by her job and her family life, the figure of Vesna gained national attention, which even began to spread to a few other countries. It was the strongest and most empowered Olena had ever felt.

In 2010, Olena filed for divorce. In 2011, she was free, and had custody of her children because of the case. Kalyna and Symon, now 10 and 7, held contempt for their father as well, since he was never a caring figure and always very cold and distant to them. They stayed in Ukraine a couple more years, during which time the childrens’ patronyms were changed to matronyms, and they legally bore their mother’s maiden name. At the height of her notoriety, and when political issues were rising, Vesna vanished for months. This, of course, was when Olena and her children immigrated to the United States, along with many other Ukrainians.

Moving takes time and settling, but their new home within New York state was so much more comfortable than the life they had been leading before. With all intentions of gaining full citizenship in the United States, Olena initially took up a low-key life, not taking on any trouble so she could keep up her eligibility as a candidate for citizenship. She became restless, however; and a few months in, the figure Vesna popped up in America, known by Americans who kept their eye on international oddities and mutants.

Olena was surprised, however, to find out the much more polarized opinions of Americans about mutants. She was helping people with her powers…and they wanted her dead, simply because of her powers? It didn’t make much sense. Even with the thought in mind that some mutants did bad things with their powers, it just wasn’t right to stop all mutants ‘just in case.’ Being incredibly strong willed, the only option for Olena was joining the X-Men to help figure out some solution. Holding a civilian job and caring for her two teenage children while living off-campus and having to go to the headquarters for training proves to be an extremely busy life, and she runs the risk of possibly burning out; but quitting is not an option.

Mutant Questions

Plant Manipulation: The power to control plant-life. Having had her powers since she was a young teenager, being well-practiced, and already being an established heroine, Olena has wide mastery over her powers and can be considered very strong. Olena is capable of creating plants from thin air. She can also make existing ones healthier. The ones she creates are always of the highest quality.

She recently discovered the ability to create hybrids, although this is not fully developed. Olena can drain the life out of a plant, which will give her more physical strength. She’s not exactly Captain America but she’s in better shape than the average person. She can detect the health of an existing plant, and tell whether its conditions are good or if it’s being harmed (and diagnose if it’s getting too much or too little sun or water, or if the soil is bad).

She can bring dead plants back to life, although this is more taxing on her. Olena needs a higher caloric intake to be able to use her powers consistently. She also needs regular doses of sunlight and plenty of water.

Plant enhancement: The power to augment, grow or bring plants back to life and even create them. Olena can increase the amount and health of plants, flowers and other produce, heal and otherwise nourish them and influence environment to reach and stay on the ideal range to help plant-life flourish. She can accelerate their growth and even create them from nothing if needed.

Plant growth: The power to influence the growth of plant life. Olena can influence and accelerate the growth of plants, causing them to mature with supernatural speed, grow to unusual size, and produce in abundance. She can cause plants to grow from seeds to full-grown plants in moments, cause them to flower and produce fruits, seeds, etc. outside season, cause a cut plant to grow roots and other similar feats. This extends to fruits, vegetables, vines, flowers, and branches.

Plant generation: The power to generate plants. Olena can generate plants, including vines, moss, fungi, and parts of the plants, such as leaves, seeds, fruits and flowers, and manifest them anywhere she wants. She does not need to do this in soil, and can even make trees grow on the floor inside. Generating poisonous plants causes a trace amount of the poison to enter her system, and can make her sick, depending on the severity of the poison auses a trace amount of the poison to enter her system, and can make her sick, depending on the severity of the poison and how much was generated. This extends to fruits, vegetables, vines, flowers, and branches.

Vine manipulation: The power to control vines. Olena can create, shape and manipulate vines, tendrils, stems or runners of the plant with a growth habit of trailing or climbing stems or runners, the specialized stems, leafs or petioles with a threadlike shape that is used by climbing plants for support, attachment and cellular invasion by parasitic plants, generally by twining around suitable hosts. The user can cause vines to grow, develop thorns, move/attack, mutate vines by rearranging DNA structure and revive withered or dead vines.

Chlorokinetic combat: The power to utilize plants in combination of physical combat. The main usage of this is chlorokinetic whip generation, in which she creates vine that she can easily use as whips and lassos. 

Drawbacks:

Like an actual plant, Olena needs plenty of sunlight and water to effectively use her powers. Being cooped up inside and working can be extremely draining on her, and she will need some time to recoup. She also requires a high caloric intake, especially if she is creating and/or enhancing high amounts of edible plant matter. Just in general, she burns lots of energy and calories while using her powers. They can also dehydrate her quite a bit.

Creation of plants is limited to her own knowledge of plants. She can’t just make something she’s never heard of, and she can’t do it just by looking at a book or online. I hope that makes sense. Basically her powers are limited to her personal knowledge. She could make a tree shoot up out of a concrete floor; but unless there’s some sort of earth directly beneath it, the tree (or whatever plant) won’t survive.

If she creates any sort of poisonous plants, Olena runs the risk of some of the poison also materializing inside of her body. Although it won’t be as effective as actually ingesting or touching the plants, creating a large amount will up the dosage inside of her. Also the worse the poison, the more toxic the effects in smaller dosages.

The existing plants that Olena may enhance to be healthier and live longer can still be affected by the soil and weather. While they’ll last a little longer than usual, they are still, unfortunately, capable of losing the fight eventually.

Really, using her powers can just drain her energy, especially if she’s creating too many plants. She has built up some resistance but is also prone to over working herself and pushing her limits too far, which has led to burnout before.

Lit Writing Sample:

Someone close to you has just discovered you are a mutant, how does your muse react before the other can reveal their feelings?

“Sestrenku…”

Olena set her jaw firmly when she heard the tone in her twin’s voice. She and Orest had always been more alike than they ever wanted to admit, even in adulthood when they lived a world apart. And she knew he was feeling serious about a suspicion he’d been having. And Olena had a sneaking feeling she knew what he was thinking about. They’d been close their whole lives, even when their parents were in control and Orest had had much more freedom than his sister.

“Orest,” she supplied evenly, transferring the phone from between her ear and shoulder, to now being held in hand. She would at least give him the benefit of focusing all her attention on the conversation, rather than splitting it between him and cutting coupons. He deserved as much. An angel, he was, like their younger brothers.

“Lenku, I know there has always been something amiss. You have always been hiding something from me; which, I will admit, is impressive, but some secrets are too big to be hidden effectively.” His voice was calm, and mostly even, though shaking slightly. His timbre had always been a touch more delicate than Olena’s.

“I came out to you years ago,” she replied loudly, and lamely. That probably wasn’t what he mean; and even her sexuality had been no surprise, as twins always have a special connection.

“I think there’s another coming out that you need to do, though.” She could hear him shift. He was a very large man, nothing about his body delicate, and he’d never been capable of being quiet. “There was always something else you were running off to do whenever you had the chance. And all those times Mariya wasn’t able to watch the kids for longer and you begged and begged for me or someone else to keep them on nights you worked because you needed to stay out longer…”

Olena swallowed thickly.

“And those weird things always happening in your neighborhood, or the one near it.”

She remained very still for several moments, silent, idly studying the metal blades of the kitchen scissor blades, not unlike the pair she had used to cut off her braid twenty years before. Oh, she knew exactly what her brother meant. The clues were really too obvious, and she was fortunate that it had taken this long for it to come up. Orest remained quiet too, ever so patient, just waiting for her to feel comfortable.

Finally, she inhaled softly, and expelled a long breath. “Are you asking if I am one of them? The extraordinary people? The…mutants?” She spoke the last word in English, softly, as if someone was listening in. She only ever spoke in Ukrainian with her brothers, occasional English slang words sneaking in based upon each sibling’s knowledge. And mutant almost felt like a slang word.

“Da.”

Olena licked her lips, pausing, then replied, “Yes. Yes, I am, Orest, and I’ve hidden it from you and Mykola and Havryil and Kyrylo for so long because I didn’t want to potentially put your lives in danger just for being associated with me. People never really knew what to think in Ukraine, but…it’s so much worse here in America, some humans want us dead simply because some mutants use their powers for bad things.” The flood gates were open as Olena poured out her thoughts, spilling from her head and her heart. She rested a palm on her forehead as she confessed, feeling weak and defeated. “All I ever wanted was to save people and keep them safe and now I’ve wrapped myself up in this gigantic thing, trying to solve a problem for the whole world. And the kids know but I don’t ever let them anywhere near my dealings because I want them to be safe too. Orest, if any of you—you, the boys, the kids—were ever harmed because of my associations, I don’t know what I would do, because it would be my fault. And so I only ever hid it because it was for your safety.”

Clearly he was stunned by the outburst, as Orest initially replied with his own silence. Olena panted softly as she caught her breath after her impromptu rant—she was prone to them, as her twin knew, but they sometimes became embarrassing. “It makes sense that you didn’t tell us,” Orest finally replied. “I read about mutants in the news sometimes, and the dangers they’ve faced.”

She licked her lips as she waited for him to continue.

“As long as my sestrenku is a hero, however… I will always be proud. You must be working very hard, having your job and being a mother and also being a hero. You’d best be taking care of yourself!”

Olena felt herself relax when her brother’s response was favorable, and she released a little laugh, though it came out sounded nervous, as she was still coming down from her little emotional outburst. “Bratku, not once in my life have I ever taken care of myself, and you know that just as well as I do.”

“Nonsense, the day you walked out on that dick, what’s his name, is the best thing you’ve ever done and you’re still benefitting from it. So tell me more about this mutant thing, if you can? Unless you’re sworn to secrecy. In which case, tell me and I swear I won’t tell anyone else.”

The woman chewed on her lip, wondering where to begin. She supposed there was a nice place to start. “Vesna. You’ve heard of her? The heroine?” A pause. “That is me, the one with the plants. I am literally the hero Vesna.”

She heard him lean forward, obviously enthralled. “No! Really? That’s awesome! You will have to tell me all about it! What you can actually do! How long have you had them?”

She giggled, now excited about sharing secrets with her brother, something they had never really been capable of as children, as she had always been forced to watch him and their other brothers from behind some sort of electric fence. “I was twelve! Imagine going through puberty with powers!“