#please. whatever god is out there. give me the financial stability to move out and live on my own. I can't keep doing this shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bettsfic · 4 years ago

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hi, i was reading your years in review and i noticed that you quit a job of many years to go your own way. i was wondering if you would mind talking about this decision/if you struggled with it? idk i've always told myself that i wouldn't let the idea of a "career" get in the way of what i want (e.g. writing) and that one day (shortly after 30?) i would just quit whatever job i had and go my own way, but as that deadline comes up i find it harder to imagine how i could just uproot myself...

yes, i very much did struggle with the decision to quit (what i thought was) my very stable and lucrative career in finance to get an MFA in creative writing. it’s a bit of a long story so i’m putting it under a cut.

warning for suicidality and sexual assault.

i used to believe i grew up poor, but it was the 90s so poverty looked very different. my dad didn’t work for a long time, and so we only had one income, and we lived in an apartment that was kind of a lowkey hoarder home. as a kid, all i knew was that i didn’t get to have toys, or my own space, and i wasn’t allowed to have friends over. the concept of an allowance was totally alien to me. but it also wasn’t like i ever went hungry. the food we had wasn’t particularly healthy but it was always there.

i didn’t really realize how much that instability affected me until much later, when i noticed other people hadn’t lived their entire lives aware of and obsessed with money. i used to compulsively count the change in my piggy bank and beg my mom to take it so she could pay her taxes (i didn’t know what taxes meant, i just assumed they were the reason we couldn’t afford nice things).

my safe haven was always my grandparents’ house, which was clean and had semi-healthy food and the door was always open. my grandpa was a high school chemistry teacher. my grandma worked at a bank. growing up, i had no idea what she did at the bank, just that it sponsored all the fun things we did, like going to amusement parks and baseball games. my parents never took my sister and i on vacation, but every year, my grandma would drive us to visit our family in missouri, which, even though it only cost the gas to get there, seemed like a wild indulgence to me.

i started working at 16 so i could have my own money. by 17 i was working illegally full-time and getting paid under the table. then i bought my own car, and shortly after i turned 18 i got my own apartment. even though i could pay my bills, i was still terrified about money. i thought about it all the time. i checked my bank account multiple times a day. i was a cashier at a restaurant and i would often open my drawer and just stare at the money or count it when i was bored.

but i hated working at the restaurant, and one day i thought to myself, how can i keep the money part of this job but lose the food part? then i remembered my grandma’s career at the bank (from which by then she’d retired), and that afternoon i sat down and applied to be a teller at the very same bank. obviously the bank was very large and it wasn’t like my grandma was in management. she worked in ATM operations. nobody on my hiring committee knew who she was, and honestly i have no idea how i got the job.

i stayed a teller through college, working 25ish hours a week. it didn’t pay very well and i was still nervous about money, so i picked up a job altering bridal gowns on evenings and weekends, and also an admin job at my university. so i was working 60ish hours a week, plus going to school full-time and trying to keep up my 4.0. in retrospect, i can’t remember how necessary all this was. i know i was living in an apartment whose rent was higher than i could afford, and i lived with my boyfriend who was struggling to find a job. anyway, it was definitely the lowest time of my life, and i was so exhausted that every day i hoped something horrible would happen to me so i could be hospitalized and rest.

then something horrible did happen. my dad died. and even though everyone in my life was telling me to please dear god take a break, i did not.

i got promoted to business finance, which paid what seemed at the time to be an ungodly amount of money. i was still part-time and finishing up my undergrad degree. once i graduated, i got promoted to full-time. for the first couple years, i really did try to be a banker. i was good at my job only insofar as someone who is left-handed can write with their right hand if forced for long enough. it felt very much like i was in the wrong place, but by that point i had so much unchecked trauma that i had convinced myself the highest human ideal was misery and deprivation. i wish i was kidding. i was the definition of ascetic and martyred myself. i didn’t believe happiness existed. work was all that mattered to me.

then i bought a house. so at this point, i had student loans, a car loan, a mortgage, and credit card debt. after my dad’s death, my mom had to file for bankruptcy because of all the medical bills. she abandoned her house. by this point i was 23, single, in six figures of debt with no familial support net, but i was making decent money at the bank, so it wasn’t like i was drowning. in fact i was doing pretty well. the bank was a rock in my very turbulent life. i got a lot of vacation time that allowed me to travel a bit. i had insurance and a matching 401(k). it was really a decent job.

but the bank was also in many ways an abusive relationship. i don’t mean that metaphorically. i had bosses who manipulated me, insulted me, humiliated me in front of other people. i had one boss who went so far as to look at my checking account and ridicule my purchases. i didn’t have any idea what it meant to stand up for myself or say no. in fact i wasn’t allowed to say no. my job at the bank involved solving other people’s problems. i could never say “i can’t solve that problem.” i could only say “i’ll figure it out.”

i had convinced myself working at the bank was a stable career because it was boring and i hated it. but actually it wasn’t stable at all. after 2008, there were mass layoffs and restructures every year while the bank tried to recover from the recession. i worked for a sales team, and so my job was dependent entirely on whether or not the salespeople did their jobs well. if they didn’t make goal, they’d get fired. if they got fired, i’d get fired.

i started trying to date again and was sexually assaulted. after that i really struggled at work because i was dissociating a lot and couldn’t focus. my team, despite my having worked there for years, instead of being concerned for me decided to start complaining about me to my boss. finally i had to tell a coworker what happened and that i wasn’t doing very well. my team started being a little nicer to me but ultimately they didn’t care about me, they cared about how effective i was at my job. my boss didn’t want to fire me, so instead i was pushed onto another team.

that move came with a raise. then that team was dismantled and i was pushed onto another team. that was a demotion, but i got to keep my raise from the previous move. by then, i was working from home, and even though i was more comfortable i was also very isolated and miserable. my “fulfillment through deprivation” attitude was destroying me. i wasn’t eating well or taking care of myself. i was isolated and lonely. i still didn’t believe happiness was real and i constantly thought about killing myself.

but i had started writing fanfiction, and even though i didn’t think i was any good at it, i was beginning to see a way out. i was beginning to learn how to dream, and want things, and give myself the things i wanted. i just couldn’t imagine leaving the bank, or selling my house, or moving out of my hometown. all of that seemed impossible to me.

then i had to go to a business conference where my team had a retirement party for one of my coworkers. she’d done what i was doing for 45 years. by that point i was at the 9 year mark. i’d spent my entire adult life at the bank. and i realized: the bank benefited from my fear and passivity, and nothing in my life was going to change unless i was willing to make sacrifices.

but i still wasn’t entirely convinced. and then came the day i had to physically hold onto my desk to keep me from killing myself. i didn’t end up trying it, because i had another realization: this was a life or death situation now. if i kept working at the bank, i knew i would die. i knew eventually i would get low enough to do it. i didn’t actually want to die; i wanted an escape and didn’t know what else to do. suddenly i was off the hook. my options were not “financial stability or imminent poverty” but “live or die.”

those were the big epiphanies i had, but the process of actually leaving the bank was a slow one. i wrote a bit about it here. i got into an MFA program basically by telling myself repeatedly i would figure out the money stuff later. when it came time to quit the bank, my boss convinced me to stay on working part-time, with the assumption i would move back to full-time once i’d graduated. i agreed to it, because just trying to quit was enough to convince me i could, and that better things were ahead of me. for a year and a half, i stayed on working two days a week while doing my MFA, which involved both coursework and teaching, and it felt a bit like it did during undergrad, having too many jobs and no time to breathe or think or feel anything.

between my first and second year, i had a looooong overdue mental breakdown. there were a lot of causes, but one of them was spreading myself too thin. shortly after, i quit for good. by then it didn’t feel like a big deal at all, i was so far removed from the work and my team and so focused on my degree. one day i turned on my work laptop and the next day i didn’t. i shipped it back to HQ and it was over.

then i graduated from the MFA and suddenly had to face the consequences of this life i’d chosen. my school kept me on as an adjunct, but it felt like being a ghost. i no longer had the community of my cohort. i had no health insurance. i was given my teaching schedule and a contract to sign, that’s it. there was no guarantee i would be getting classes the following semester, and after a year, that was what happened. i remember sitting in my favorite coffee shop trying not to cry when i got the email that said the department had nothing for me to teach the following semester.

i really wasn’t the same after the breakdown. i went from “i can do anything i put my mind to no matter how hard it is or how much it hurts” to “i have to step carefully, and treat myself gently.” i hadn’t fully realized that yet, though, so i tried to get a Real Job. i got the first and only job i applied to, because i am bad at nearly everything but somehow i’m exceptional in interviews. it wasn’t a bank but it offered the same sort of benefits package. it was a full-time salaried position at a non-profit. if i had found it earlier, i think it would have been my dream job. it was the kind of work you throw yourself into because you care so much about doing good.

i lasted a month. during the first week something happened that triggered me in a way i’m very rarely triggered. i realized i needed disability accommodations, but i needed to go to a doctor to get an assessment and i had to be on the team 60 days in order to get insurance. i thought i could white-knuckle it, and i could, sort of, but every minute i was at work, it felt like i was forced away from the thing i should have been doing. i was constantly trying to write a few paragraphs here and there on my phone when no one was looking. i had to find excuses to take breaks and go to my car and breathe. at one point i told a volunteer i was an english instructor, and she looked at me very confused, and i realized i’d said it in present tense, like it was part of who i was and not a job i did for a while. then finally, my breaking point was an after-hours function. when i left i saw a field full of fireflies and thought about how, if i’d just stayed home, i could have sat outside and enjoyed them all evening, not just a glance at them on the way to my car. i liked the job but it was making me miss all the things i’d learned to love about being alive.

i quit the next day. i’d sold my house by then (which was its own feat) and moved in with my grandma, which hadn’t been a possibility until my grandpa passed away the previous spring. i paid off my car. i figured out finally that i would probably never be able to work full-time again unless it was teaching, and that the downside to this life would be accepting fear and instability, only being able to look ahead one semester at a time. staying open to the opportunities that arise. being a little selfish.

i wrote a bit more about the financial realities of the writing life here. i can’t tell you what you should do, because the path i took definitely isn’t the path for everyone, but i do believe we all owe it to ourselves to pursue our best and happiest lives, because we only get one, and there’s no reason not to live it the way you want to.

#writing advice #the writing life #Anonymous

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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

Text

01 | Redefining Destiny

→ next chapter

→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au

→ warnings: none??? (ok fine JK thinks ‘shit’ once but that doesn’t really count)

→ wordcount: 3.4k

Sweat slowly trickles down the back of Jungkook's neck as he stands behind the fiery heat of the burger grill. He's been gripping the metal spatula for so long that there's an angry red dented mark in his right hand. The greasy smell of oil from the french fries has penetrated through his nose for hours now; at this point, he has no other choice but to breathe sparingly through his mouth. God, he hates working overtime.

But he desperately wants to provide for you financially, and working overtime at his local burger joint was just one small step closer to financial stability when you both graduate. It's the least he can do for you.

Jungkook adjusts his red hat, which is part of his work uniform and checks the clock hanging on the wall. Ten minutes and he's out of here. He can definitely take this hot, stuffy kitchen for ten more minutes. He's been through a lot worse in his life; in comparison, this was nothing.

Ten minutes pass painstakingly slowly, but once the clock strikes 10 p.m., Jungkook pushes the spatula into his co-worker's hands and dashes out of the kitchen, grabbing his casual clothes from his corner at the back and rushing into the restroom to change. He hates the greasy, fast-food smell that clings onto his work clothes even more than you do.

And today's supposed to be a special day. Normally after a late shift, Jungkook likes to go home and lay in bed with you as you stroke his soft hair until he falls asleep. But today is definitely a special day.

When Jungkook comes out of the bathroom wearing his normal black jeans and an oversized hoodie, he sees his long-time friend Yoongi waving at him in a corner seat of the parlor. Jungkook smiles, rushing over to slide into the seat across from his friend.

"Hey," Yoongi says. "Just finished your shift?"

"Yeah," Jungkook answers.

"How was it?"

"It was okay," Jungkook lies. "It's bearable. And it's extra money."

"It's been a while since we got to meet up like this, huh?" Yoongi sighs. "How are you holding up?"

"Since..." Jungkook whispers.

Yoongi nods. "It's been nearly two years, Jungkook, but I know how much you miss them... or him."

Jungkook nods solemnly. Yoongi's right. It has been nearly two years since the Crescents collapsed and everyone but Jungkook was murdered on the spot. He's been having nightmares about that night ever since it had happened. Nightmares about his best friend... Taehyung... He shudders just thinking about it.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Yoongi says. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for it."

"It's really fine," Jungkook says, shaking his head. "It's not a big deal... I just miss Tae once in a while. It doesn't always plague my thoughts," he lies. "Besides, I have Y/N, you know?"

Yoongi nods, smiling. "You lost a loved one so the universe brought you another."

But Jungkook doesn't think anyone could become the Taehyung of his life—not even you, though he loves you more than mere words can describe.

"Oh, right. I forgot to tell you, Jungkook," Yoongi says, leaning forward in his seat and grinning. He's trying to lighten up the mood; Jungkook can tell. "My wife's pregnant!"

"Really?" Jungkook gasps, his eyes turning wide as he stares at his proud-looking friend. Well, this was news that he hadn't expected at all. "Wow, congratulations!" He really means it.

"I dunno about congratulations, but I am pretty glad I'm finally going to be a father," Yoongi hums. "Except that child is hoarding my wife's attention. And I'm kinda nervous," he sighs. "A lot of pressure to be a perfect example now..."

Jungkook nods. "I can imagine. But you'll be a great father."

His friend smiles. "Thanks. That means a lot. Anyways, how's school been going?" Yoongi asks, resting his head on his propped up hand. "I know you were kinda worried because of the age gap and everything..."

Yoongi's right. It wasn't easy to start up school again after neglecting to go to college in his early adult years. He would be at least three years older (or more) than everyone else in his classes... and he hadn't touched a textbook or actively listened to a lecture since senior year of high school. He was worried that he would be severely behind all the bright and chipper students who hadn't taken several gap years. And he was behind at first. But his determination to be somehow involved in law was just so much greater than the adversities that academics hurled at him, that he fought through. Of course, you'd helped him as well. So, as of now, school was going—

"Great, actually," Jungkook answers. "It's because I'm doing what I'm interested in."

"Good," Yoongi answers. "My wife sends you her best of luck. She said being a paralegal will definitely suit you."

Jungkook smiles. "Tell her I said thanks. That was sweet of her."

"You know my wife," Yoongi snorts. "Always trying to do the right thing. Oh yeah," he pauses, "how's the love of your life?"

"She puts up with me," Jungkook chuckles. "She's been great. We've been talking about her moving in for a while and it finally happened a few weeks ago."

"That's amazing, Jungkook," Yoongi says, smiling. "You really love her. I can tell."

Jungkook laughs, face heating up just thinking about you. "You know what's funny? I hated you for the longest time—no offense—because you left us, you know, for your wife. But now I know what it feels like to be crazy in love."

Yoongi snorts. "Yeah. Wait until she's pregnant with your kid, though."

"I still think I would love her as much as I do now," Jungkook says. "I don't think our love can ever fade."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Oh, to be young and in love!" he declares.

Jungkook makes a face that makes Yoongi laugh even harder. "You're only a year older," Jungkook protests. "And if you were in school, we'd be in the same year!"

"Sure, sure," Yoongi says.

Jungkook's about to say something snarky to get back at Yoongi when he hears the familiar tune of your favorite song playing on his phone. Last Valentine's Day, you'd gone out of your way to customize Jungkook's ringtone when you call him. It was some Christian song that you belted out every Sunday at the top of your lungs—a song that Jungkook knew every word to after listening to it so many times. "Hold up, my girlfriend's calling," Jungkook says, fishing out his phone and clearing his throat to answer.

Yoongi leans back, nodding to himself as he watches his younger friend get excited over a call from his girlfriend. Jungkook presses his phone against his ear, lips already pulling up into a smile just at the thought of talking to you.

"Hey, baby!" you chirp the moment Jungkook picks up. "Can we please have ramen for dinner? I'm craving it so hard for some reason! And it's not like we can really afford anything else..."

"Of course, baby," Jungkook says, unbelievably happy just hearing your voice. "Do you want me to make it when I get home?"

"Yes, please!" you exclaim in your bright, golden voice. "We have a nasty quiz in ethics tomorrow, remember? I have no idea how you're hanging out with Yoongi knowing that, but whatever. I've been FaceTiming like six of my friends to cram for it... But also at this point, I'm kinda getting distracted—frick, I'm going off into tangents again. Wait, okay, sorry, Kook, I have to go."

"Don't worry about it, babe," Jungkook says. "Study well, okay?"

"Okay! Bye, Kook. Have fun with your friend!"

Jungkook can tell you're smiling just from your voice. "Bye, Y/N!" He ends the call, putting down his phone and looking a bit dazed.

Yoongi laughs at him. "God, Jungkook, you really love her. It's been like what, a year? And you're already even living with each other."

Jungkook scrunches his forehead. "You ran away from the only family you ever knew to be with a girl you've reunited with for less than a year," he retorts.

Yoongi chuckles. "Touché. Maybe we're both deranged love-seeking lunatics."

Jungkook laughs. "Maybe..." he muses. "Or maybe we've found our true soulmates and we're not stupid enough to let them go."

"Ha, good one," Yoongi laughs. "If I told my wife that we were soulmates, she'd tell me to open my eyes and wake up."

"Really? But she loves you and you love her," Jungkook says.

"So?" Yoongi asks. "You loved my wife too, once. So did..." he hesitates. "So did Seokjin and Taehyung... Just because we love each other doesn't make us soulmates."

"I loved your wife a long time ago. That shouldn't even count. And that was before I knew my soulmate existed," Jungkook huffs. "I guess maybe Y/N and I are lucky."

Yoongi smiles. "Extremely fortunate," he says. "True love like that doesn't happen often in this cruel universe." He folds his hands in front of him like a wise man, leaning in as if he were going to tell Jungkook a secret. Naturally, Jungkook leans in to listen to what the wiser man has to say. "You deserve it, Jungkook," Yoongi tells him. "You deserve to have someone like Y/N to give you purpose to live. To put purpose in your life. You deserve a lot, and from what I could tell, Y/N is the 'a lot' that you deserve."

Jungkook can't stop the wide grin stretching his lips. It's rare that Yoongi has such heartfelt words to say so openly in public. He must be out of his mind—or insanely excited about becoming a father.

"Thanks, Yoongi," Jungkook says.

Jungkook knows that Yoongi's always been a practical man who doesn't believe in soulmates or destiny or any of that cutesy, Disney princess, Hollywood shit. And for months, Yoongi was Jungkook's makeshift role model—someone to take the place of Kim Taehyung, who was dead now... But Jungkook knew he and Yoongi were too different when he met you. You were something else. Something so completely different that when he's with you, he feels like he's taken to the moon. He has to disagree with Yoongi on this one. Destiny exists.

Because destiny, and what was written in the stars of the vast universe, is what brought you and him together to fall in love.

You immediately sit up in bed when you hear an ear-piercing scream, quickly reaching across to switch on the bedside lamp and turning to your boyfriend. He's kicking the covers and whimpering, sweat running profusely down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut and frowns at the figures in his nightmares. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Kook?" you whisper, yawning and trying to blink away your drowsiness. "Hey, you were screaming again," you say, shaking him softly.

Jungkook nearly hits your head with his when he jerks awake. And the moment you see the fear in his wet but alert eyes, your drowsiness vanishes. "Baby, you're crying," you say, pulling him into your arms and hugging him.

He relaxes a bit in your embrace for a split second before tugging back and shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he groans nearly breathlessly as he massages his head with his hand. You try to wipe his tears away with the sleeve of your nightshirt. "It's so early in the morning... And we have a quiz today. You need to sleep."

You shake your head, ruffling Jungkook's hair. "Sleep is the least of my worries, Kook. Tell me, it's about your friends again, isn't it?"

Jungkook stays silent, still trembling slightly from the leftover shadows of his nightmare.

"C'mon... I wanna help, baby," you say, reaching out to hold Jungkook's hand. He's sweaty and his skin feels hot against yours but you don't mind. "You can tell me. It'll make you feel better, I promise."

"It was horrible," Jungkook finally whispers. "And you were right. It was about the Crescents again..." he hesitates and you patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts and continue. "I-I watched T-Taehyung be b-brutally tortured. A-And I... I couldn't do anything about it b-because I was in invisible restraints." He lets out a gigantic sigh, shivering from the last remains of the nightmare in his mind. "Everyone else was already dead and bled out," he quickly says, spitting the words out so fast he doesn't have time to stutter. "I want to spare you the details." He's shaking as he tells you this, eyes fogged up and lips set in a thin line.

"Oh, Kook..." you breathe. You reach out to hug him. "Hey... do you want me to get you an ice pack and a glass of water?" you ask, rubbing slow circles on his back. "We can talk about it in-depth when you're feeling better."

"No," Jungkook murmurs softly in your ear. "I swear, I'm fine, Y/N. You don't have to do anything. It was just a dream..."

"It was a nightmare," you correct him, pulling back from the hug. "And you keep having them. What can I do to help?"

"You're helping right now," Jungkook says. He gives you a grateful smile. "I'm sorry I keep waking you up at ungodly hours of the night."

"You shouldn't be sorry," you reply. "You've been through a lot, Kook. It would only make sense for you to have bad flashbacks about it... Hey, if you don't want to go back to sleep, I'll stay up with you."

Jungkook shakes his head. "No way. You need your sleep."

"You do too, silly," you say. "How about we both go to bed?"

Jungkook smiling, slipping back into the covers and dragging you under with him so that you're using his pillow instead of yours. "Can you stay by my side until I fall asleep again?" he whispers hopefully.

"Of course," you say, "you're really warm, anyways." You snuggle against your boyfriend, closing your eyes immediately to relish in the darkness. "Goodnight," you whisper. "I'll pray for you so that the nightmares won't bother you again this night."

"What would I do without you, Y/N?" Jungkook sighs as he closes his eyes too, wrapping an arm around you.

"Everything," you murmur. "You're... a strong man... Kook..." you trail off. Jungkook waits for you to continue, but it seems like sleep has overtaken you before you could say any more.

Jungkook smiles. When he's in your arms, he can finally have a peaceful slumber away from the nightmares and horrible memories. He dozes off the sleep again and this time, he isn't plagued by the fatal cries of his friends' last words.

When the 2 p.m. alarm rings, Jungkook's the first one up, hopping out of bed and checking to see if you are awake. You obviously aren’t, so he decides he's going to let you sleep for a little bit longer while he makes breakfast—er, lunch.

It's Friday, which means you and Jungkook only have one class today—ethics. Jungkook has a habit of studying for his classes little by little and every day but you tend to cram last-minute. You were up until 3 a.m. last night studying and you'd also woken up at around 4 to comfort Jungkook. Feeling a little guilty, Jungkook pads into the kitchen with heavy, drowsy feet and lets you get the extra sleep you deserve.

The smell of bacon sizzling on the pan permeates through the small apartment's air, reaching the bedroom to wake you up. Soon, you're making your way into the kitchen, stretching your arms as you yawn.

"Hey, baby," Jungkook greets you, turning around from the stove to give you a warm smile. "Sorry about last night... er, early morning."

You yawn again, waving a dismissive hand as you open the fridge to take out some eggs and apples. "It's nothing, Kook. Can you scramble these eggs? I'll cut the apples."

Jungkook nods, taking the eggs from you and cracking them open expertly against the fry-pan before letting the contents fall out. He takes the cooked bacon from the pan before it burns, looking around to find some plates to set them on.

"Here you go," you tell him, handing him just what he needed.

Per usual, it's like the two of you have telepathic communication.

Once the bacon is hot and ready on the plates, the eggs are scrambled into a golden yellow and the apples are freshly washed and cut, you and Jungkook sit down at your small table and eat. Jungkook's just about to finish up his eggs when you sigh. Jungkook looks up at you, and he sees that you have abandoned your silverware, twisting around your gold purity ring—it's a small habit you picked up when you're nervous.

"Is something wrong, Y/N?"

"No, nothing's wrong, Kook," you tell him. "I'm just worried about you. You keep having nightmares, baby, and I just think it might be detrimental to your mental health...”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he lies, shaking his head in denial. “I’m fine. I promise, Y/N.”

You know he’s lying, but you don’t say it out loud. “In that case, I have a verse from the Bible for you,” you say, pausing to close your eyes. “Maybe repeating this in your head can somehow help you...” Your brows furrow as you concentrate to pull up the scripture from memory. "Be strong and courageous,” you begin, “do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

"Joshua 1:9," Jungkook finishes for you. "I know, Y/N. I know."

He doesn't really, though. Jungkook respects your closeness to God; he respects your religion and your beliefs, but he, a murderer, a major sinner, cannot possibly receive salvation. He can't take back the lives he's ruined, the people he's tortured and turned insane, the victims he'd killed slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time... You understand his struggles, so you don't push the subject of religion on him. But it had been a hard move for you to choose to date Jungkook. To choose to move in with him. To choose to sleep on the same bed and maintain your purity. Jungkook understands. And this mutual understanding—even though none of it was spoken verbally—is what makes the two of you so special.

You connect on a level that transcends speech and language.

"You don't deserve being haunted by the things you did when you were younger," you say. "Former mafia or not, you're a good man, now, Jungkook." You grab his hand from across the hand, encompassing it with your own. "That's what matters."

He smiles, nodding. "Thank you..."

"Of course," you say. "Hey, after class, wanna eat out for dinner? You know, to celebrate another quiz."

"Ah..." Jungkook sighs. "I can't, baby. I have to work overtime today."

"What?" you pout as a frown places itself on your lips. "You worked overtime yesterday. And you didn't get a good night's sleep today..."

"Well, we need all the money we can get," Jungkook says. "I'll be fine. Maybe you can get dinner with your friends? I'll meet you outside my workplace at 10?"

You sigh. "Alright, Kook, but you have to promise you'll sleep in tomorrow."

"I promise," Jungkook grins. "Hey, I'll clean up so you can cram a bit more for the quiz."

You laugh, shaking your head as you gather up your utensils and your plate. "No way, Kook. You know, I don't have to try as hard anymore. I'm not going to intern abroad."

"Really?" Jungkook asks, frowning. "But that's such a great opportunity, Y/N! You can't just miss out on it..."

"Well, going abroad would mean we'd be long-distance... And what if I never come back?" you say. "I'm not gonna risk that. I'm not going. I'll have to explain that to my parents... somehow."

"You don't have to give up on your future for me..."

You laugh out loud. "I think God meant for me to have a future with you, Kook."

Jungkook hums. "In that case, I can't really argue against what He planned for you, can I?"

"No," you giggle, shaking your head. "You can't."

Jungkook smiles; God or not, you and he were meant to be, and he'd prove time and again that he is worth your love.

After the ethics quiz that had gone fairly well, you and Jungkook part ways after he kisses your cheek goodbye. Usually, Jungkook walks straight to the burger parlor, but, today, he takes a little detour to the flower shop.

He's been buying you one sunflower every week since the two of you began dating. He doesn't really know how that tradition started, but it never really stopped because the two of you enjoyed it so much. But today, he wants to get you something special.

Jungkook feels a little guilty, after all, that you'd given up your internship abroad to be with him and that you always had to wake up in the middle of the night or at early dawn to comfort him through his nightmares. It isn’t much, but sunflowers give you happiness.

He makes his special purchase and walks to the burger parlor where the smell of grease and oil isn't as bad today—his mind is preoccupied with your reaction when he gives you your present.

You're already waiting for him outside the burger parlor when Jungkook comes out, a bit sweaty with the smell of burgers still lingering on his skin.

"Hey, babe!" you say brightly, hugging him and immediately taking his hand. "How was work? I went to get some street food with friends. It was so good! I have to take you there some time—goodness, are those—" Your eyes turn huge as you see the packet that your boyfriend is holding.

"Sunflower seeds," your boyfriend smiles. "I know I usually get you sunflowers... but I figured it would mean more if we could plant them and grow them ourselves."

You gasp, putting a hand to your heart. "That's so thoughtful, Kook. I don't even know what to say."

Jungkook shrugs shyly, face blushing. "It was nothing, babe... But hey, did you walk here alone? That's kind of dangerous..."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, my friend dropped me off here. I didn't even wait that long for you. You don't have to worry."

"Sorry," Jungkook says, squeezing your entertained hands. "I'm just... paranoid, I guess."

He's referring to Jimin and you know it. "Hey... I'm fine," you say. "It doesn't hurt to worry or be cautious, you know. Wanna start walking home?"

Jungkook nods as the two you begin to walk down the familiar streets, the bright moonlight illuminating what was otherwise dark. A few minutes pass before you speak again.

"It's a full moon, tonight," you say, looking up at the sky.

"I really like full moons," Jungkook hums.

You turn your head to look at him in shock. "Really? I always thought crazy things happen on the night of a full moon. Like men turn into werewolves and witches brew their potions and warlocks cast their spells?"

Jungkook laughs as he looks at you fondly through his half-opened eyes. "Maybe," he giggles. "But... I don't know... it's just that it's a better, more completed version of a crescent moon. I feel like it guides me in the right direction."

"I thought I did that, not the full moon!"

Jungkook smiles. "You're better than the moon," he says, pointing at the stars twinkling in the night sky. "You're the stars, Y/N. You're the sun. You're my sunflower!" he exclaims confidently.

You smile, a faint, rosy blush tinting your cheeks. "I really don't know what I would have done without you."

"You'd be abroad," Jungkook says. "Studying a foreign language and becoming successful."

You shake your head. "Not at all. I'd be unhappy. I'd feel stuck. You know I hate what I'm learning..." you shrug. "Without you, I wouldn't have anyone to lean on."

Jungkook smiles. "Me too."

You smile, about to say something sweet right back to your boyfriend, but you halt walking instead. Jungkook stops with you, looking around to see if anything is wrong.

"Hey," he says. "You good?"

"Was that always there?" you say, tilting your head and looking curiously to the right. "I've never seen it before."

Jungkook looks to where you're looking and smiles curiously. It's a little shop, the windows displaying glowing potions and little sparkling trinkets. "A magic gag shop?" he asks. "Maybe it's new."

"Gosh, it's adorable!" you gasp, running toward the windows to peer inside. "Look, baby! There's a cute little flying teacup set! I can barely see the string that's holding it up!"

Jungkook catches up to you, looking in to see exactly what you are talking about. "It seems so professional," he says in awe. "Do you think the owner works in the film industry or something? Some of these look so real. Look at that!" He points at a crystal ball in the middle of the shop, displaying vibrant images of sunflower patches. "That's insane!"

"It's like it was made for us," you laugh. "Let's check it out!"

"Woah, uh," Jungkook hesitates, "it's late, Y/N. The shop's probably closed."

"The lights are on," you pout. "C'mon, I wanna talk to the owner! I wonder what they're using to get such vivid photos on that thing!"

With that, you tug your boyfriend into the little magic shop with you. One step in, it's like you've entered a new universe.

—next chapter

—masterpost

#btswritersnet #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #redefining destiny #redest

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tarotchariot · 4 years ago

Text

Return with past pick a card

Pick a card reading: Dealing with the hurt

“

This is a free pick a card reading for those going through a challenging or hurtful situation. I’m not certain how these will turn out, but I hope they bring some kind of clarity, peace or comfort to any of you. I understand that some may feel lost and almost begging silently for some help, yet not seeing anything to get advice or a sense of stability from again.

I will use 6 groups to choose from, believe it or not - simply because to me, 6 symbolises harmony and reciprocity. Please know that you are not alone, and something will find you in a wonderful moment.”

So moving on, please take a quiet moment and use your intuition (for example taking 3 deep breaths and clearing your mind, or envisioning a number perhaps)

And choose between the numbers 1, 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , or 6

____________________________________________________

Group 1 :

Knight of water, The dreamer, Unity, 3 of air, synchronicity

Alright you guys, you had quite a few cards here. At first glance, it’s appearing like a new start is necessary. Maybe something didn’t go well at work or school, or what you thought was a solid and stable place has become uncomfortable due to someone in your vicinity.

It’s odd, it’s looking like someone wasn’t entirely truthful. The angels want to point out that there will always be light and dark.

Getting the vibe of feeling left out, not part of the group anymore. Or at least not feeling like you are. Maybe someone has literally excluded you or pushed you out because of something they see as “bad” in accordance to the groups beliefs or interests. I’m seeing a crisis of faith here.

There’s quite a few possibilities. I’m seeing, maybe for just one singular person that they have lost someone that mattered very much to them. I get such a playful and light hearted energy about the person. Whether you believe in life after death or not, if it were for certain a thing I could say one thing they would be saying to you, even now: Please laugh, have fun.There are so many things to be happy about.

There is a deep loneliness, and for that I feel for you, so much. Your Angel(s) are right next to you.

For others, feeling left out or excluded, most likely undeservedly. However, I’m getting the message that you are being guided to a new way of thinking and being, and to acknowledge that there is good and bad in everyone. No one is perfect, we each have our shadow. Please try not to take their treatment of you personally. It’s more to do with them, and not you. It is projection. It’s likely you have witnessed and seen who can be trusted and cannot. Run with that fact and hold the lovely one(s) close.

Those in this group are being guided extremely in the form of synchronicity. Please be on the look out for further advice, and insight through the following forms, and even more:

Music that really resonates Conversations you over hear Signs out and about Seeing a similar image many times Hearing the same kind of message similar times An idea keeps popping up in your mind Some of you may want to move forward with a creative project. It’s encourages as it will aid you in positively letting out your emotions. Not only that, it may be simple and overlooked, but simply by just spending time and being around any loved one or friend (not even talking directly about your situation) will give a small bit of peace and gratitude.

This is a signal of a new chapter, and you are guided to have the fun you are meant to have.

Hope that did somethin’.

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

GROUP 2:

Queen of earth, Page of air, Ace of earth, The miracle of forgiveness

There seems to be an issue surrounding give and take. Queen of earth talks about kindness, practicality and nurturing. It could also symbolise a mother, or someone who has motherly energy.

With the theme of pentacles, the material, and page of air here who seems to have a wolf around them, I wonder if you have been taken advantage of in the material sense (financially, physically). And it seems you are very aware of this, since forgiveness is the crux, and the advice. It’s like the more you get, the more they take.

I’m seeing there might be debt as well. I’m seeing someone here who has had to uphold a whole lot. You’re the kind that can make things happen. I’m also seeing great resentment, and that doesn’t happen from just anything. Yes, I can’t help but see someone else having a hand in your finances and do whatever they like, or did that in the past. Wasteful. Basically - it’s not fair and it’s cruel, because there’s something here that I see that you want to do, but this is getting in your way.

I’m seeing a talent in you that is not to be wasted. Know that it cannot be taken away - it is yours, and god given, No one can truly take what matters. The comment I receive from the angels is that the abundance for you will always come. What is truly yours and needed will always find its way to you. I feel a very powerful solidarity, independence and ambitious feeling.

Your future is yours, not theirs. Not anybodies.

I would like to also say, that despite this, there really is actually love still there. Whether you want anything to do with them in the future is another thing. You’re asked to (in whatever tiny way you can) try and understand them. Understanding is the first step to forgiveness. And forgiveness opens up doors and new energy for you personally.

I recommend that you try and understand the truth of forgiveness, and not just what you hear or see on tv, This could become something that actually drives you further.

I really see you as such an inspirational and strong person.

That’s what I see for you, thank you.

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

GROUP 3:

Page of earth, six of earth, awakening, eight of air, take time to breathe

So here there are themes of feeling trapped, having to wait, unemployment/difficulty finding a job or career and possibly even being taken advantage of as a student or in a low level job as a trainee. Off the top of my head.

Patience is a big note here. Something is not happening as fast as you would like here, and I can understand how scary/stressful that can be. You might be scared about your security or future here. I’m seeing that you have put a lot of effort into this situation. I’m also seeing that maybe you have felt alone as well, hints of valentines keep coming up.

I’m seeing that you might be under a lot of scrutiny/judgement, so I’m wondering if you guys have been suffering in terms of anxiety or being just plain down, or more. If you have been struggling with confidence or motivation or anxiety, I encourage you see a professional or join a support group/forum online. Even talking things out in a journal can release a lot of that pent up energy,

I’m sensing a lot of pressure that you may be placing on yourself, and I hear the angels want me to say “Darling” withsuch love and care. Please give your worries to the angels. They say they will take care of them. And will take care of some issues.

Oooh, I am truly seeing so many pent up emotions that they encourage you get out - if you have to scream at the ocean, or in a car, do it.

Get it all out, empty your mind for some quiet time, and just be.

You will see the appropriate solutions at the right time, and as a result of taking your mind away from its current habits, you will be so much more capable of seeing them.

Please, give yourself a break. The angels want you to see just how good things are in some ways, and how much you may be focusing too much on others.

Take some time and be willing to see things differently, things can change just that much. The angels want to say how much they love you and adore you, feeling much love for you here. I hope you can feel the peace they want to send you in this writing. And you are capable of so much.

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

GROUP 4:

King of water, The magician, Live your joy

With the king of water here, it’s showing you may be finding it difficult to trust people or life. What feels difficult here is that you may not be receiving the help or advice that you deserve and should be receiving as a default.

It might be showing that a paternal figure in your life is withholding themselves or even being manipulative. Basically, not being the role model they should be.

More than anything though, I’m seeing that you want to create something, something that really gives you joy, that truly speaks for you and is your honest expression. Which makes me think: perhaps there is someone who doesn’t like that. There is certainly an abrasiveness there.

For whatever reason, perhaps someone here doesn’t accept you, or your self expression, or whatever it is that makes you feel right.

When it comes to this, the answer is very simple. Choose to release those binds.

How, you ask.

2 things. simply practice this self expression or take part in whatever it is that you want - that will set the energy up. 2. raise your vibration. Do not involve yourself in the negativity, refuse to take notice of anyone elses expectations or judgements. in general have more fun, express gratitude, see the positive

Truly embrace whatever this is. If it has to be, let it be at night when others are asleep, and build your confidence. Change things bit by bit.

a few of you here may be psychic, or have a spiritual hobby or talent. Embrace this role, you are meant to be someone who spreads higher knowledge and support.

There’s someone I see that plain just doesn’t like change. But hey, since when did it have everything to do with them? never. This is you. The message I’m getting for you guys is: be proud. Be so darn proud of you. No one will ever be big enough to diminish you. You, in spirit, the divine part of you, will always be such a special and wonderful thing to behold. When you live your joy and your truth, you shine like no one else. Let this change you, shape you and gravitate towards joy no matter what this person, or people say. You can create the life you want.

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

GROUP 5:

Three of fire, ten of earth, express your creativity

I’m seeing some distance with loved ones here. perhaps there has been a quarrel, a falling out. Or perhaps a family member has moved a fair bit away. I’m feeling a family or community that was once warm, has experienced some kind of change that has left you feeling quiet, humble and retrospective.

if this is not family, it could be a group of friends that felt like family, or a job where you felt like a family with the team.

I’m seeing for sure for some, that there was a blow up and the effects are still rolling. You may feel as if the effects won’t end, but it appears you will be left alone in that way for the time being. It seems very much on your mind.

It is really looking like the aftermath of a big storm here, a sweeping change or an eruption from an argument that has separated two or more people. For a couple of you it might have been triggered by something very small. I’m seeing a lot of hurt here, true heartbreak. Please know that there will be peace. Things always calm after a storm.

No one seemed to be necessarily right or wrong, it appears to have been something that simmered in the distance for a long time.

All I can say is now, you are on solid ground and it’s time to calm down from it all. Something the angels want to put forward is that the strangest things happen, and we may not understand for the longest time, but it triggers the right change for us, or sets us on a certain route for our most divine path.

I’m seeing the universe, and its connections and paths that we all take, that as humans we couldn’t understand. I do see that one day, when you are comfortable and feeling at home, safe (which I promise you will be) - you will get the zap of a vision. How things worked out. Why. What it led to.

Moving forward I can see the suggestion of working as a co creator and envisioning how you want things to go. What do you want for yourself, or you and your family. What kind of connections do you want. Be as creative and imaginative, and extreme as you want.

The message I get from the angels, again and again, is calm. Take time to be calm, cool down from it all, take a rest, and feel your angel/guide next to you, supporting you and shielding you.

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

GROUP 6:

seven of water, renewal, knight of earth, the inner voice

For some, I’m seeing being worried about the loyalty/faithfulness of another - the recommendation seems to be to look at the dedicated actions of the person. Do they display through action and practical means that you are their priority? (other than their purpose or work of course). Use this as an opportunity to both review if you feel you are receiving the level of dedication and care that you deserve and need.

Perhaps your person has been unfaithful in the past and you decided to give them another chance, but again, there is worry. There are too many factors that you may be holding onto from the past that have no part of the thought process you should be taking, or judging with currently.

So either way, it appears to be a time when you need to judge for yourself, are you able to trust the other or if this gives you what you need. Are you willing to go forward with it? Not just recklessly, not for the sake of it, but after great thought and deliberation.

For others, I’m seeing feeling at a loss as to what to do next in their life/career.I know all too well that this can feel scary and like a major crisis. Straight up, I can say from experience that the answers come gradually, and in a relaxed way in the right timing.

The guidance in both cases is to listen to your inner voice, your higher self.

I know, it sounds a bit annoying, or like it might not give you fast answers but it’s the way that you can feel confident in your own conclusion. It won’t come from anyone elses judgements, words or coercion.

Come to a point where you know you, you know what you want and need, and you only accept the right things.

When it comes to making your decision or conclusion, you may need to discern whether this comes from the angels or higher self, vs the ego. If it comes from the ego, it will speak in terms of winning, of gaining something, or appearing a certain way. If it’s from spirit, it’s often for the highest good of everyone involved, is sympathetic, loving and understanding. It does not judge, only seeks to help.

I would like to affirm for everyone here, that there is much love for you here. And let everything you do, be because of love. Of yourself, and others.

Thank you.

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

“Wowwwww that was a lot. Guys, I hope that helped in some tiny way.

I do this simply out of love. I wish you all the best.”

(A copy of an old pick a card reading by myself, not shown on this account until now)

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swanderful1 · 7 years ago

Text

Duplicity: Ch 4/?

Summary: Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Notes: First of all, a special thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke who is an actual angel and also to @shady-swan-jones for the incredible artwork. Here with an update, just in time for the weekend (and the finale) but while one door closes I'm happy to continue writing and creating using these characters who have inspired me so much.That being said, I hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you for stopping by, I love getting feedback or kudos or just greetings are fun! Hope everyone has a nice weekend!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights to OUAT

The whole thing can be read on AO3 and ffnet

The dinner at the Nolan’s had been a welcome distraction from what Emma was dealing with in her own house. That much was evident the second their front door closed and the lingering silence between she and Neal filled the house with tension so thick it could practically be cut.

Whatever front they had put on in public, had quickly faded.

Emma stomped her way up the steps to the master bedroom and waited to hear Neal’s footsteps behind her.

The walk in closet off of their room was almost the size of their first studio apartment in Boston. It was hard to believe they had gone from living in less than 400 square feet to where they were now. But Emma would do just about anything to get back to when they had been too madly in love to care that the heat hardly worked. Or that the dated floral wallpaper was peeling. Or that the entire apartment always smelled like the Chinese restaurant in the building next door.

“Emma...” he said when he finally came upstairs to their room. Emma was already in the closet, changing from her clothes. “I went to the dinner, everyone had a nice time…”

“Please. I just want to go to bed.” She went back to pulling her silk pajamas from a drawer in the white cabinets of the closet system. An additive that Neal had insisted be put in the house.

“I was late getting home, it isn’t the end of the world,” he said tersely. Entering the closet but staying in the doorway. He knew enough to give her space at least.

“It’s more than that, Neal.”

“Then what is it? Tell me, because I can’t read your damn mind, Emma.”

“You haven’t been here this week! We moved here because of you and so far all you’ve done is come home late if at all.”

“My job is not 9 to 5, you know that. You knew that before we moved here. Don’t act like this is some surprise.”

“I thought that moving here it might be different. I guess I was wrong.”

“What exactly did you think would be different? We moved here for my career. My legacy, my father’s business. You knew that, you knew what my father was like.”

Emma felt stupid, each day that she went along it got harder until she had constantly felt herself wondering why she was tagging along with someone who clearly did not care for her as he used to. In hopes that he would again become the person she had fallen in love with.

“Where do you even go half of the time? You’re never here. You come home late, you smell like booze constantly...”

“Forgive me for working to try to provide a nice life for you.” Under his breath she heard him add, “I would think you would be grateful.”

“Excuse me?” she snapped. All attentions now on him, not the clothes. “Oh, that’s right because I grew up without a home I’m supposed to crawl on my knees over glass to thank you for all of this?”

Judging from his face she could tell that was exactly what he wanted her to do, which only served to anger her more.

“I should be grateful for what, exactly? Moving away from everything I’ve ever known? Spending day in and out alone in this house? Aside from tonight when was the last time we had a meal together? When was the last time we had sex?”

His jaw clenched, and she debated whether or not to say the next part. Emma stepped toward him, her eyes locked with his. Frustration filling her body.

“If I wanted to marry your father I would have.” She pushed past him and walked into the bedroom.

“Everything I do is for you, Emma, for us! Why can’t you see that?”

“No it’s not.” She stared out the bay window before shutting the white curtains. Everything he did was for himself. “Is there someone else?”

She knew the answer, had for a while, but still she asked.

“No,” he said, sounding defeated. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and Emma felt herself begin to tear up. “You’re being ridiculous.”

She said nothing, just stared at him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he said with ice in his voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said, only a few inches from her now. “What would you do, if I snuck out of a dinner to sit on a stoop with another woman?”

“Oh for god sakes, Neal, you’re the one who hired him.”

“Don’t make an ass out of me for doing it,” he said. Emma’s eyes widened. He had done it to test her. She was sure of that now. Bring in an attractive gardener to spend time with your lonely wife. Emma’s blood boiled, she couldn’t even look at him anymore.

Killian Jones had been a trap, one that she was falling right into. Emma walked away, not wanting to continue to argue with him. It was exhausting.

Down the hall in one of the guest bedrooms she pulled down the made up bed, and crawled underneath. The house had several spare bedrooms, this one was the furthest from the master. Emma had tried to decorate simply, using white linens and gray furniture.

The moon hung high in the sky and cast light into the windows of the guest room. Emma stared out them and into the clear night, the stars were visible from her new home. That much she liked. What she didn’t like was the irony of her being in the guest room of her own house.

There weren’t many emotions in this world that Emma Swan liked. One of the few things she had control over in her life, and as she grew up, was that of her response to circumstances. Because while there was only so much she could do for her situation, her approach was what she knew she could control. So for a long time, Emma had been in as much control as she could have been.

But then when she was 17 years old, she met Neal. At a bar she had used a fake ID to get into with another guy she had been dating. The day she met Neal was also the day she left behind all she knew before. He swept her off of her feet. She left that bar with him and never looked back.

Neal took her interesting places on dates. He had a car, a run down probably stolen yellow bug that had since been retired. In all of the chaos that was being young and in love he was her stability. And she was his. He had just been cut off financially from his father, the older Mr Gold thinking it would have his son crawling back to work for him. Unfortunately, he had been right. Five years later, after graduating from Boston University, Neal had begun working for his father.

Emma settled into the covers. She breathed in the scent of the lavender fabric softener on the sheets, remembering the time not so long ago when Neal had been her wings. Now, though, he was more like cement shoes.

In the morning Emma woke late. Her watch read that it was 10 am, she had forgotten to set an alarm. Next to her phone and watch though on the nightstand sat a singular Hershey kiss. The tiny piece of chocolate wrapped in its signature foil packaging.

Their relationship was wrought with miscommunication. It always had been. They were both stubborn and shut down from other people. But he had been the person she knew longest. And with that came the responsibility of knowing what pushes the other’s buttons. She knew Neal’s, and he knew hers.

Another thing, though, was that they knew how to apologize to each other.

Emma picked up the tiny chocolate candy and held it in her hand knowing their history with it. Neither one of them had an easy time apologizing to each other but this had always been their way. It was the way he had proposed to her. It was the way he broke the news to her that he had to move. It was the way she apologized for leaving when he had initially told her.

Her heart fluttered a bit, it was the first glimpse of her Neal she had seen in months. And he wasn’t moving mountains, but it was a sign. A sign that he was still the person that had swept her off her feet 10 years ago.

“I didn’t know what time you would be up.” Emma looked up at the doorway and there stood Neal, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“My alarm didn’t go off this morning,” she said carefully, taking one of the mugs from him as he sat down on the bed. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Em… I didn’t like how we went to bed last night.”

“Me either,” she said staring down at the steam coming from her mug. She caught a whiff of something, the barest hint of cinnamon. Her favorite.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his leg touching hers. Finally she looked up to meet his eyes. “For how I have behaved and treated you.”

Emma remained quiet, as she finally watched something formulate behind his eyes.

“And you’re right, I am acting like my father. But you don’t deserve that.” He took her hand in his and felt the ring he had given her months ago. “Which is why I think we should actually get married…. For real this time.”

“What?” she said back, she definitely wasn’t expecting him to say that.

“I know we only did this to appease my dad but maybe we could really marry each other, have a ceremony in our new house….”

Emma was so stunned she could hardly move. She just stared at Neal. Dealing with the whirlwind of emotions that had gone on between them in the past 12 hours.

“Neal…. I…” she stuttered. “We decided we didn’t want to get married.”

“We made that decision when we were 18, Emma, things change,” he said calmly. “It’s just something to consider.”

“Won’t your dad be pissed when he realizes we didn’t actually get married before moving here?”

“He doesn’t have to know… he thinks we eloped so we can just tell him we wanted a real wedding.”

Neal stood up from the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He drained his coffee and started to leave the room before turning around to face her in the doorway, “I’m gonna start putting together all of that exercise equipment still in the boxes.”

Emma smiled, it was forced but she still appreciated that she didn’t wake up in an empty home this morning.

“Thanks for getting all of that by the way,” Emma said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just because we had to move here for my career doesn’t mean you have to abandon yours,” he said. “Plus I liked to watch you on the stairmaster.”

He winked at her and instead of blushing Emma felt unsettled. She didn’t like whatever feeling hit her as Neal left the room.

When they first started dating, Emma had no family and Neal was cut off from his father. So envisioning a big, white wedding was beyond either of their imaginations. That was what they had agreed upon for most of their relationship. But then as they got closer to moving to Storybrooke, the more Neal started talking about them actually getting married.

“It’s a more traditional neighborhood, Em, we should think about getting married,” he had said. Which was, as one can imagine, not the way every little girl imagines herself getting proposed to.

“You make it sound like a business transaction,” she said back and then they didn’t speak of it again. Until one morning in their old apartment when Emma woke up to a diamond ring resting on top of a Hershey kiss on the pillow next to her.

“We don’t have to actually do it, but at the very least we can pretend,” he had said. Emma still remembered that morning, the sound of an ambulance driving by outside the window. “Just like the good old days.”

Back when they first started dating, they went on road trips all of the time. The problem was, they were both too poor to afford anything but the gas and had to shoplift at convenience stores all along the east coast.

They would be fake married, fake pregnant, fake fighting. It was a game. Their game. She considered him as he slipped the ring on her left hand. It wouldn’t be so bad, she supposed.

“I’ll wear one too, Em.” He kissed her wrist and they made love that morning. Too caught up in the idea of another one of their games to recognize that they were older now and there were consequences to their rouses.

She remembered everything about that morning all those months ago. The Boston t-shirt she always wore from Neal, the sound of an ambulance driving by their apartment window. The weather was rainy and gloomy but it made their tiny bedroom cozy.

But now, sitting in their new house, surrounded by Pottery Barn furniture everything was so quiet. And Emma’s mind tried to grab onto something meaningful to remember this particular morning. A sound. A smell. A feeling. But she couldn’t.

Emma was in the office off of the kitchen later that morning. The built in shelves took up the entire wall behind the desk and were filled with books she had collected from thrift stores over the years. Plants were used as bookends. A tiny window gave a glimpse of the front street. It was cozy, and though Neal rarely worked from home he still insisted on a home office. She sipped her coffee and scrolled through page after page of porch furniture. It was the one part of home decorating she had avoided. Mostly because she had no idea what the backyard would look like yet.

An email came up in the bottom right hand corner, signifying that Neal had an incoming message. Emma’s gut told her not to look, not to snoop. She was never that girl who went searching through phones and emails and calls. She liked to think she trusted people in her life. Nowadays though she wasn’t so sure. It seemed more and more like Emma was always on the defense with Neal. And even this morning, when he had been so sweet, it felt like a bandaid.

Against her better judgement she opened the email, and luckily it was only from Target telling him about a sale going on this week. Emma released a breath. Paranoia was not her favorite feeling. But a few messages down in Neal’s inbox she saw a chain of messages from none other than Killian Jones. Curiosity getting the better of her yet again.

Just as she suspected it was message after message of Neal micromanaging the entirety of the project he had given her ‘free reign’ of. All the while Killian Jones being completely receptive. Of course he was, he was a nice guy. Or what she had seen of him at least, and she liked to think that she had some ability to judge character.

Her eye caught on the sight of a message from Neal where he stated the yard would need to be done by the end of May. For some sort of party.

Interesting. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her about a party. One would think….

Unless it was to be some sort of wedding ceremony. Some surprise gesture to get her to marry him. Emma’s breath caught in her throat, she didn’t know if she was being ridiculous or realistic in assuming that him asking this morning was only a formality. Why else would he throw a party without telling her? It wasn’t either of their birthdays, no one they knew either.

It was certainly plausible.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her racing head. Quickly Emma closed the email and went to the door. Just what she needed right now, a fucking visitor.

When she opened the door she found Mary Margaret standing on the other side holding two to-go cups of coffee and a small paper bag.

“Hi,” Emma said a little startled.

“Hi, I come bearing coffee,” said Mary Margaret in her sweet voice.

“Come in, please,” Emma ushered. Out of the corner of her eye though she caught sight of Killian Jones unloading his truck at the Mills house. She would ask him tomorrow if he knew anything about the party, no need to bother him right now.

Emma and Mary Margaret made their way to the kitchen table. The nook was surrounded by windows that allowed for a view into the backyard, which would be lovely someday but right now was just a big project and some dirt.

Sipping coffee there was a silence over them for a few minutes. Mary Margaret looked like she had an agenda for being here, especially since she hadn’t called ahead. But she still came across sweet to Emma, almost like a mother in the way that she acted toward people. Most likely that came from her being a teacher. Even still, it made Emma want to trust her, and it made her want to be around the woman more often.

“I hope you had a nice time last night, I know David and I did,” she finally said, setting down her coffee cup and leaning back in the chair. She wore a soft yellow sweater and white pants. Compare that to Emma who was still in her pajamas, she felt like a bum.

“I did, it was lovely,” saind Emma. “We used to live in an apartment building so there weren’t too many dinner parties going on there. It’s nice to have neighbors we can spend time with.”

“That’s one of the best parts about living here, the neighbors are almost like family.”

Emma went to chime in and say she had never really had a family before, but decided against it. She felt bad enough about bringing up her past at the table last night. The last thing she wanted was for Mary Margaret to feel uncomfortable around her.

“I didn’t mean it that… I don’t want to offend you, of course it’s not the same thing as a fam…” the pixie haired woman stumbled over her words. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable talking about your upbringing with me.”

Emma sipped her coffee, giving the woman time to find her words.

“What I meant to say was that I want us to be friends.”

“Friends?” Emma asked.

“I feel like I’m really not getting this right..” Mary Margaret joked. “I like spending time with you. It’s nice to have someone new around. And when I moved to this street there wasn’t exactly a welcome wagon.”

“Other than you and Ruby this place seems like a tough crowd.” Emma thought back to her only encounter with the Mayor at her garden party. How cold and icy she was, but had a hard time picturing anyone being nasty to the woman sitting across from her right now.

“There’s a lot of history here, in Storybrooke. Some families have lived here for years, so there’s a lot of overlap.”

“Well, I enjoy being around you as well. Especially if you’re gonna bring me coffee and croissants every time you come over.”

They both laughed at that and the nervous tension in the room eased. Emma liked Mary Margaret, she was a kind person. And the world could use more people like her. People who were just nice. Besides that, it would be great to actually form a friendship with someone. All her life Emma had been strong in so many ways, but friends was not one of them.

Sunday morning Killian awoke alone in his bed. His head was already reeling from the night before. The dinner party at the Nolan’s had been fine as far as cordial events go, but there was something that picked at him about it. The memory of sitting on that front porch with Emma as he blurted out about his dead brother was so out of character for him it was downright terrifying.

So rarely did he share anything about Liam with anyone new. Obviously his friends had known, they had been around when it happened. But Emma didn’t ask for the sordid tales of his past, but she did seem lonely.

Killian pulled himself out of bed and ran his hands through his hair. According to the clock it was 7 am, he had some time before he had to be at the Mills’ house. He was building a new shed for them and finally had all of the clearances to do it. Something that was odd for the Mills house, normally when it came to approval from the HOA the process moved rather quickly.

He quickly showered but when he got out realized he didn’t have any towels.

Thankfully he lived alone, he thought, as he dripped down the hallway to his linen closet where the spare towels were. But when he pulled out the towel something hit his hand, it was gooey and felt like some sort of gel.

“What in the….?” he spat out looking at his hand. The gooey mystery substance coating his right hand. He reached way back, in the depths of the shelving to find an overturned bottle.

It was a bottle of shampoo, well past its prime, that had fallen between the cracks. Not just any shampoo though, what he could smell of it was what Milah had washed her hair with. He closed his eyes and let himself picture what mornings used to be like when she was still alive.

The smell of her dark, curly hair pressed against his nose. The feel of her soft body tucked into his. The way she would pull him closer when it was cold outside. On a morning like today, when he hadn’t shaved for a few days, she would complain about the tickle of his jaw.

Anytime he thought of her though, inevitably his mind would wander to the last time he had seen her. The morning after she had died, he hadn’t even been with her when she had taken her last breath. His last memory of her was the sight of her laid out on a metal table, under a blue cloth, making a confirmation to the detective that she was indeed who her ID said she was.

But the person he saw in that room wasn’t the woman he had fallen in love with, she was a shell of herself on that table. An empty version of Milah. The side of her that was an addict had won out in the end.

Who knew an old shampoo bottle could send him on such a tailspin?

Later that day he was working at the Mills house, distracting himself from the morning. The framework for the shed had been built, and was coming along nicely. That was the thing with Killian, no matter what went on day to day, work could take his mind away from anything.

“Hi Mr. Jones,” came a young voice from across the yard. Killian looked up from his work to see Henry Mills walking toward him. They 8 year old son.

“Hi Henry,” he said back smiling. While Killian wasn’t used to being around kids, most of his friends didn’t have them, Henry was a good kid. “I’ve told you before you can just call me Killian.”

“My mom says I shouldn’t call grownups by their first name,” he said back, kicking a stone with his shoe.

“Well I may be older than you but I’m far from a grownup.” Killian smiled at Henry, who was young but always seemed to have a maturity about him. It was probably because, in most scenarios, he was the only kid around. He was an only child, and there weren’t a ton of other kids on the street to play with. “You can help if you would like.”

“Really?” the kid’s face lit up. As much as Killian should probably just work alone, Henry was always helpful and he couldn’t spend another afternoon watching the 8 year old play alone on his swing set.

As they set to work Killian found Henry to be quite helpful. He sorted screws and nuts and bolts. He held things in place, he acted as an extra set of hands. They worked like that for a while.

“Henry, what did I tell you about bothering Mr. Jones while he works?”

Cora Mills was standing not 10 feet from them and he had hardly heard her coming. In her hands was a silver tray with some glasses and a pitcher of ice water. She was an older version of the mayor. Wearing sensible, tailored pants and a white linen shirt. Her long dark hair was tied up and her lips were painted a bright red. It was awfully formal for a Sunday afternoon at home, but that was the Mills family. They ran the town, and they knew it.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Mills,” Killian said standing from his hunched over position. “Henry was just helping out for a little while, he’s never a bother.”

“That’s kind of you,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Henry, your mother has lunch on the table inside.”

The kid shot up and ran toward the house, waving a quick goodbye to Killian. The young lad had so much energy, Killian felt like it would be a cold day in hell before he could run toward that house right now after working all morning and afternoon.

“You’re very kind to be so patient with him,” Cora said, bringing his attention back to her.

But he didn’t like the way she looked at him, he never did. It was part of his job though, and being that the Mills family were responsible for his brother being so successful he just smiled and endured it.

Monday morning, Killian felt a weird churning in his stomach. He wasn’t inherently a nervous person, but as he made his way to Neal Gold’s house that was exactly what he was feeling.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” said Will as they were working in the backyard. The morning had gone off without a hitch but Killian couldn’t help but notice Emma didn’t come out to say hello.

Perhaps he had gone too far by telling her about his brother, perhaps her husband felt uncomfortable with her being alone with him. Whatever it was, he noticed her absence.

“I mean, you’re always a bit grouchy but we’ve been here for a few hours and you haven’t said more than two words,” Will continued. He was one of Killian’s oldest friends. They had met in elementary school, coming from similar toxic family situations.

“I’m not feeling particularly chatty today.”

“Yes because you’re usually such a talkative person.”

“I’m here to work I’m not here to doddle,” said Killian with a hint of irritation in his voice as he continued to dig out places for the posts of the fence. A wood fence that will eventually be covered in natural looking vines, but it was easier to focus on that then his bad mood.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, it was only 11 am and already very warm. If only that pool in the middle of the lawn was full he would jump in right now to cool off. By the end of the week the plumbing for the sprinkler system would be done.

“You know, some people would find your silence off putting,” Will continued to jab at him. “But I love a challenge.”

“You are intolerable.”

“Then fire me!” he teased. Killian at least cracked a smile at that. He worked alone a decent amount, he felt he was more efficient that way. But it was nice to have company every once in a while. However annoying Will was, he was still company. And he was one of the people who dragged him back to work after losing Liam. For that he would forever be grateful.

“I think there’s someone who wants to talk to you….” he heard Will say as he picked up his head. Walking toward them was Emma Swan, long blonde hair free and flowing. She wasn’t in her usual workout gear and ponytail. It looked like she was on her way to something. The purse that hung on her shoulder, he recognized as one he had bought for Milah for Christmas one year. The difference was, the one Milah had was a fake version and Emma’s appeared to be real. A several thousand dollar bag, hanging from her shoulder like it was nothing. That was the kind of life she was used to.

“Killian, can I talk to you for a minute?” her voice sounded in his ears as she looked right at him. He tried to read her expression but her sunglasses masked her most telling feature. Her eyes. Apparently he had frozen in his spot because he felt the gentle nudge of Will on his shoulder.

“Sure,” he said a little too quickly. With the back of his glove he wiped his forehead again before following her toward the porch. When he turned back to look at Will his friend’s eyebrows were raised in such a way that he thought perhaps he now knew why Killian had been so quiet.

Emma led him up the stairs of the back porch and just when he thought she was going to stop there, she opened the french doors and led him inside her house.

The cool air hit him as he stepped inside. Immediately he was conscious of the dirt on his boots that were tracking on the wood floor.

“It’s alright, just leave them on,” she said as if reading his mind.

He took in the surroundings. After many years of working in these neighborhoods, this was the first time he had ever been invited inside. It was just as massive as it looked on the outside. The french doors from the porch led into the space of a large living room, off of that was a sleek white kitchen. But in all of its grandeur, amongst all of the artwork and books, there were absolutely no pictures.

“Would you like a glass of water?” she offered from behind the kitchen island. Emma had taken her sunglasses off and set them next to her bag on the counter. He searched her bright green eyes, but if Killian was being honest they appeared to be a bit foggy. Had she been crying?

He could only assume she was going to tell him off for following her out to the porch at the Nolan’s on Saturday night.

“Sure, that would be great,” he said, removing his disgusting work boots and leaving them by the door. It felt like a crime to wear them in her pristine home. Dragging mud through her seemingly pristine life.

Killian walked over to where Emma stood in the kitchen and reached across the island to grab the glass of water from her. He kept his distance though, this was her home, and god forbid her husband walk in to find the two of them alone in the house together. Killian would never work again.

“Yesterday I was in Neal’s office and stumbled upon something,” she turned and went through one of the doors off of the kitchen. He didn’t know what to do so he just watched as she quickly returned from what he assumed was Neal Gold’s home office. Making a mental note of where it was he looked at the piece of paper in her hand.

“What do you know about this event we’re having at the house at the end of May?” she asked, catching him off guard.

“It was mentioned just in terms of the timeline,” he said back. “Nothing else was told to me about it.”

Emma sighed, setting down the sheet of paper that had the chain of emails between Killian and Neal about the yard. Whatever kind of marriage the two of them had, it clearly was not a very strong one if she had to ask him about an event her husband was planning.

“Me either,” she admitted as she crossed her arms over her chest. The ring on her finger catching his eye. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Maybe it’s some sort of birthday party…. Or anniversary….?” he offered, wondering why she was so concerned about it and also why Killian was the only one she was able to consult. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, love.”

“It’s alright, I just thought maybe he told you.”

He surveyed her again, noting how uncomfortable all of this made her. It was why she had dragged him inside, the idea of not knowing something as simple as a party your husband was planning… well that was probably irritating to her. Perhaps her life wasn’t as pristine as they led the world to believe. In the space of only a week Killian had noticed that. It wasn’t up to him to comfort her, that wasn’t in his job description as the town’s local gardener. But he felt himself wanting to do it anyway.

“Look, Emma…” It felt odd calling her by her first name, but the way she looked at him told her she was listening. “I’m sure it’s just a surprise he’s throwing together. And that whatever it is will be lovely.”

Her green eyes were rather striking to him, as there was something behind them that made him very wary. Fear.

“If he gives any indication as to what it is you will be the first person I tell,” he said scrambling for anything to just wipe away that look of fear on her face. There was so much more to this than a mystery party but right now it was all he had to offer her. “I promise.”

As if all at once she realized just how inappropriate it was for him to be in this kitchen with her right now alone, she snapped out of whatever haze she had been in.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your work I just… I didn’t want to talk about this in front of…”

“Other people.” He finished for her. Quickly dismissing himself back to the yard where he belonged. But as he worked the rest of the day he couldn’t help but wonder what on earth Emma Swan was so afraid of.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan fanfiction #cs fic #cs ff au #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones

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the-scottish-costume-guy · 8 years ago

Note

ALL THE ASKS

Ok sure but this’ll be long so a readmore it is:-

Kirk: Tell me about a time you had to take a leadership role.

A few times. I ended up organising quite a lot of stuff with the costume team with my last couple of shows. I quite often end up taking on leadership roles at events and things because nobody... seems... to want to? And so stuff doesnt get done and we talk around things until I or someone else goes “Ok here is what we are doing.”

I think I did it most on the first show I worked on, and I hated it. I basically kept chasing people up on what they were doing and what they should be doing and kept snapping at one girl to leave jobs that werent hers well enough alone. (She kept fucking up the organisation of the costume rail).

Spock: What kind of sacrifices have you made for others?

I left university for a year to look after my mother... despite the fact she would do a lot of shitty things. I’ve... sacrificed a lot for other people really but I dont know...

I’ve lived to regret a lot of them.

Uhura: Talk about the moment you were the most proud of yourself.

Honestly getting my 98% on my graded unit final this year.

This represents so much. 3 years ago I was depressed, directionless, I’d been unable to work because I was so emotionally low and trying to deal with my alcoholic mother. And then 2 years ago people told me to get out. People told me to study to do something, to escape.And... I did?

I haven’t done well in exams since high school when my cousin died and everything went to shit. But this year I got 98% on a unit in the highest level qualification I’ve done to date. I’m still depressed, I still struggle but my god look at me now. Im taking care of me.

Bones: Describe your closest relationships.

Complicated haha.

Jem - my partner is great. They understand me perfectly, excellent dinosaur nerd. We might not always agree, but we also agree that might be a good thing. We can talk about our problems and thats more than I could ask for.My family - do not get on with me a lot. Its still a relationship and an important one even if its not a good one. They shaped who I am and I just hope im not too much like their negatives. If anything I want to take my mothers (occasional) open-mindedness, My fathers self reflection and my brothers desire to learn and understand all people and things.

My friends - I have a few, and the ones Im closest to should know who they are. Im very grateful to them for being there. For understanding. I don’t know where I’d be without friends like that, old and new.

Sulu: What is your relationship like to the world around you?

The world is a struggle but I’ll get there.

Chekov: How do you support your friends?

I try to be there, ask what they need and give it to them if I can. Im not always good at that. I like to find solutions and a lot of people dont want them... I’m working on that.

Scotty: Talk about a time you succeeded (or failed) in fixing a major problem.

I’m really not sure. On the last show run I did for class the dryer wouldn’t dry the clothes in time for the next show. But we uh... didnt fix that problem. We tried, I got us a bunch of hairdryers and we had a go at doing them that way. Tried pressing them dry and all sorts but uh... nope, actors went on stage damp. They were nice enough about it but I still felt bad ^^

Chapel: What have you gained, or what consequences have you faced, from pursuing your passions?

My passions so far have been “Get out of that house your parents live in” and so far I’ve succeeded. The cost? Im constantly looking for places to spend the holidays - friends who might be willing to take me because Im terrified of spending stuff like christmas alone...

Rand: How do you stay positive in bad situations?

Hahahahahahahahaah I dont.

seriously tho the worse the situation the better I am at dealing with it. I sorta... shut off emotionally and get through whatever needs getting through. I got hit by a car and I handled that. I lived in an abusive household and just emotionally switched off. Its immediately after the bad situation that I struggle.

Enterprise: Tell me when/where you felt most at-home, like you belonged.

When I get there I’ll tell you. I cried last christmas because my friends made me feel so welcome... they just accepted me into their home, let me sit with them while the kids unwrapped presents. It... was so nice...

Khan: Tell me about a person you would do anything to protect.

I’m glad to say I’ve not been in a situation where I’d need to. I trust the people I care about, I’ve seen them protect themselves. I dont want to imagine a situation where the cant and I somehow can. The people i love are far stronger than I could ever hope to be.

Corbomite: What's the worst lie you've ever told?

“Seriously it doesnt hurt too bad I just tripped down some stairs.” ugh gives me shivers.

Deneva: Have you ever lost a loved one? How did you grieve?

My cousin died when I was 14. He was more like a brother to me really. I remember when I was told that he was dying and I literally couldn’t breathe. I vaguely remember someone holding onto my shoulders while I gasped in air. I then didnt cry until his funeral where I sobbed like a baby.Everything is a blur after that. Time got muddled in my head. I dunno if I ever stopped grieving completely. Still hurts like hell.

Empath: Talk about the time you needed someone the most. Did they come through for you?

Honestly people are there for me a lot, and they always try even if they dont succeed. But I needed someone through my transition and it just... didnt happen. I didnt need anyone specific but I needed or wanted SOMEONE.

I’ve done this alone, I’ll continue doing it alone and that hurts. But I know it hurts people like Jem too. I know they want to be there almost as much as I want them to be. Sometimes its not a matter of how much we want things though.

Psi 2000: What are you really like, under everything?

Insecure, self reflective though not really sure if my analysis is correct. I think a lot of what you see is what you get tbh?

Horta: What do you do when you feel lonely and isolated?

I message everyone I know on facebook, skype and tumblr then hope someone will answer. Theres about 3 people maybe 4 who I know I can be blunt with. who I can just say “Im lonely please pay attention to me” It helps a lot. When that fails though I just try to sleep.

Talos IV: What would you do if someone you loved betrayed you?

Been there done that, numb to it now. It hurts but I’ve learned you can move on, learned you can meet someone knew who you can love and be loved by for a while (not saying romantically here). Losing people is a lot less frightening.

Organia: How do you react when you're proven wrong?

Depends on how? Attitude says a lot. If I’m politely corrected I might be interested and want to know more. If its super critical and about why Im a failure in every capacity I’ll be equally antagonistic.

Farragut: Has something ever happened to you that you just can't let go?

Physical abuse, my cousin dying. Im not good at letting go of trauma. I wont ever forget that my little cousin harry looks up to me the same way I used to look up to David though. I strive to be what David was to me, for Harry, as much as I can.

Shore Leave: Describe your ideal life.

Somewhere to live, financial stability - moderate happiness and peace.

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virtuosinovel · 8 years ago

Text

Ch 48 - Expansion

“Welcome back Benjamin. It’s good to see you again and know this time we’re on the same team. Please sit down,” Victor said as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

“Thanks, it’s great to be back. So where do we go from here? You guys don’t exactly have a need for an international spy, do you?” Benjamin asked.

“Well, it’s not like we don’t do any intelligence whatsoever. We do quite a bit, but it’s mostly high tech and mostly counter-intelligence to make sure we don’t get blind-sided. We don’t go into other countries to conduct operations,” explained Victor.

“Great. I’m a dinosaur here. Depressing,” said Dudley.

“Don’t feel bad. So am I,” Victor laughed. “But I may have just the spot for you, at least for a while until you find your own niche.”

“Great, what do you have in mind?” asked Dudley, sitting forward in his seat.

“Well, I usually wouldn’t trust a newcomer with the information I’m about to give you. But hell, you already blew the whistle on the world’s biggest superpower so I guess that’s good enough for me. Come over here for a minute,” requested Victor. He waved Dudley over to his side of the desk so they could both see Victor’s screen. Victor hit a few buttons and the screen started dialing an international number for a video chat.

The call was answered from the other side. All Dudley and Victor could see were several people wrapped from head-to-toe in arctic outerwear: heavy coats with fur-lined hoods, snowboard masks, goggles, and gloves. The one who answered held up a finger to the camera as if to say “hold on a second” and then pointed at a steel building a few yards away, indicating they were going inside to answer the call.

The camera on the other computer spun around and led the person into the steel structure. The computer was set down on a table and the screen shot stabilized. The receiver came around to the other side and pulled down the fur-lined hood. Black, curly ringlets of hair emerged with some snow on the ends. It was a female evidently. She continued removing her mask and goggles. Her cheeks were rosy from the outdoor elements even though she’d been bundled up.

“Hey baby,” Victor said cautiously. He apparently didn’t expect to catch the woman in this state. And who was he calling baby? This wasn’t like calling his nieces “someone special to him” or “sweetie.” This was clearly a romantic interest.

“Yeah, save it. Do you have any idea how cold it is here?” the woman retorted with her face frozen in incredulity.

“Well, I’ve read the weather reports, but if you are asking me to get a point across then no, I have no idea and I feel really bad about it. But hey, Copenhagen is nice, right? You haven’t spent all of your time up there in the tundra, have you?” Victor asked, frowning.

“Copenhagen is charming, but that doesn’t help me at this very moment now does it?” she continued, pouring herself a warm drink out of a thermos, still slightly shivering.

“Honey, this is Benjamin. Benjamin, this is my wife and the best sport in the world, Lira Freeman.”

Lira Freeman? She’s alive? What the hell?

“Nice to finally meet you Benjamin. I’m glad you didn’t succeed in killing my husband,” she said. Like the others, she was very nonchalant when discussing Dudley’s aborted mission. It was as if nobody thought he could’ve pulled it off even if he had tried.

Benjamin finally managed a “Nice to meet you too, I thought…..”

“Oh, you thought I was dead? Yeah, well you can’t believe everything you read on the internet Benjamin. Although I’m not sure my current circumstances are much better than floating lifeless in the South China Sea,” she said, glaring at Victor.

“I’m sorry baby, but who else was I going to send? I owe you one or ten or…..”

“You can’t count that high so don’t bother,” she interrupted, seemingly in a better mood after warming up a bit.

“How were the Danes? Any final word?” Victor prodded.

“The Danes are absolute peaches. The negotiations went just like I planned. It helped a great deal the yugi-kroner exchange rate kept skyrocketing as we discussed all the details. By the end, they were so glad to get rid of this piece of ice they almost threw me a ticker tape parade.”

“Oh, excellent news!” Victor said. He was genuinely pleased about his new acquisition, whatever it was.

“Great, I’m glad you’re happy. What you’re going to do with this place is beyond me. Now can I come home please?” she asked, going from sarcastic to almost pleading now. “I miss the island.”

“Sure baby. The jet will be there tomorrow morning. Only one more night away from home.”

“Thank God! See you when I get there. You can start thinking of ways to make this up to me. Farvel, min elskede,” she said in her newly acquired Danish as she blew Victor a kiss and signed off.

Victor closed the computer and looked at Dudley, whose head was cocked in contemplation.

“So, that’s my wife. You know, the one who fell overboard on a cruise ship and was never heard from again?” Victor started.

“Yeah, so about that,” Dudley said, fumbling for words.

“Well, first of all, the footage was doctored. Lira never jumped or fell overboard, she stayed in Macau when we were in port and flew to Copenhagen from there.” Victor explained.

“Okay, I’m following the story so far. But why fake her death?”

“To keep our negotiations with Denmark a secret of course. Lots of people freaked out when they heard we were buying this island from Australia. They wanted to stop the deal but couldn’t. It was too late. But if they got involved earlier they may have succeeded. We needed a head start, so we had to make people believe Lira was dead. Once we convinced the world of that, she was free to conduct negotiations without too much hassle or publicity. The Danes also agreed to keep it secret. They didn’t want to piss anyone off until the time was right.

“I’m still lost,” said Dudley. “Negotiations for what?

“Greenland,” Victor said straight-faced.

“What? Why? Greenland?”

“Lots of reasons. First of all, it’s the biggest country we thought might be for sale if we asked nicely. I use the words “for sale” very loosely here. It’s a lot more complicated than just buying Christmas Island and moving here, since the Danes and the Greenlanders have a complex set-up. But Greenland has an enormous amount of natural resources and there’s more livable space than people think, especially with global temperatures rising.”

“Are you planning on moving your operations to Greenland?” Dudley asked. “Why would you leave the island? Didn’t you see the footage? It’s freezing there.”

“No, not moving, just expanding. This island had a population of about 1,000 people when we got here. Greenland has between 50 and 60 thousand. We can make a real impact. Start another society based on our ideals. And there’s also something to be said about not putting all your eggs in one basket. We may be doing great here so far, but one tsunami or cyclone and we’d be hurting. We need another place to call home, or at least be able to call home if we need to. Incidentally, the southern part of Greenland is beautiful a good part of the year. We just happened to catch Lira when she was scouting up north a bit.”

“I don’t know. Seems silly to me. Couldn’t you just buy another island?”

“Yeah, but another island wouldn’t have the sheer potential of Greenland. Few places do. We’re talking hydrocarbon galore, hydro-electric power, iron, uranium, platinum, copper, titanium, rubies. The place is a gold mine, literally and figuratively, but the locals have never had the technology or the financial resources to do anything about it. They’ve sold most of their mineral rights and other valuable assets to foreign companies or countries and are now getting screwed out of hundreds of billions. We outlined a way to stop the bleeding by making a paper purchase of the country. Unlike Christmas Island, we won’t assume control of the government there. Instead, we’ll be there in more of a consulting capacity. But we’ll have enough power to start playing hardball with some of the people taking advantage of the place,” said Victor, getting into his dreamer groove.

“A little white knight action with plenty of benefits to Virtuosi?” asked Dudley.

“Yes. Most of us will still have Christmas Island as our permanent address and just travel there as our skills are needed. We’ll offer jobs to Greenland’s current citizens if they’re qualified or can be trained. Then, the market will bring people from all over: Russia, Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, and Canada.

“That’s the great thing about a market economy. We’ll make it worth their while to come, and they’ll come. No need for me or any of my top managers to go there and run things. Some might go on short details, like Lira did for the negotiations, but new leaders will be created there by necessity and convenience. Of course, Wilbur and Eve will need a deputy to go there and oversee the initial security of the place for a while,” explained Victor, staring at Dudley.

“Me?” asked Dudley.

“I know it’s cold but hey, you should be in jail for the rest of your life, right? What’s a little cold?” returned Victor.

“Is this your version of banishing me to Siberia? What makes me qualified to go there and manage things?” Dudley asked.

“Lots of your agent training is transferable. You’ll report straight to Wilber and he’ll give you guidance as needed. I think it’ll be good for you to see how this works from the ground up instead of coming in after a couple of years like you did here. Think of it Benjamin, this is like our gold rush. It’s literally the Wild West up there; or the Wild North if you prefer to be literal. It’s like a Jack London novel. You could be our trusty sheriff,” Victor said, getting more animated as he talked.

Dudley frowned and fidgeted in his chair. He wasn’t big on the idea, but it was hard to say no to Victor.

“What if we agree you split your time between there and the island? We’ll make Randall the co-sheriff and you guys can work out a schedule. Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll make it a two-year assignment and then we’ll find something else for the two of you to do. Who knows, maybe one of you will want to stay there.”

Dudley had no choice. He was already getting a second chance most people didn’t get. He would get bored staying in one place for too long anyway, so why not take the job and make the best of it?

“Okay, it’s a deal,” Dudley relented. He and Victor shook hands. Victor reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two crystal glasses. He poured a double shot in each and handed one to Dudley.

“To new beginnings,” said Victor as he raised his glass.

“To new beginnings,” repeated Dudley. They tapped glasses and emptied the contents. The liquid warmed Dudley all over as he thought about his new mission. This one wouldn’t end with him trying to assassinate someone he respected. This time he had a good idea of what he was getting himself into. Or so he thought……

#blook #blog to book #libertarian #libertarianism #revolution #virtuosi #spy novel #conspiracy fiction #book content #chapter forty-eight

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