#then had some kind of mental break and professed his love for god and another manager to her over text

[a-lucifer-a-day]

Today’s Lucifer is: me telling That One Coworker not to mess with my stuff for the millionth time

[blush-and-books]

i’m sorry, but i fell in love tonight

short fic based off of this gifset by @juliesmolinas and the song is there somewhere by halsey. in fact it is mandatory that you listen to the song/read the lyrics/both before/during reading this. yes i said mandatory.

angst with a sappy ending, julie goes through a lifetime of emotions in less than 3k, was originally gonna write when i was in a more emotionally raw state but writing this made me emotionally raw so... enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Julie made the promise at some point -- she just doesn’t know exactly when.

It may have been when he appeared at her school, all shy smiles and soft glances, professing that she made him a better writer. Or, more definitively, it could have been when she forlornly pulled him into her arms a moment before she was positive that she was to lose him forever. 

All that she knew was her time with Luke was fleeting. So she swore that her butterfly-wing crush was not allowed to fill her chest or dizzy her thoughts; that his lyrics would mean nothing more next to hers than words on a page and his touches would bring her little to no comfort.

Luke Patterson could not complete her. 

The universe wouldn’t allow it -- and neither would Julie Molina. 

But -- either Luke was blissfully unaware of their impending doom or he genuinely didn’t care -- he forced himself through every barrier she attempted to erect. And it was driving her nearly insane, because she made a promise to protect herself. 

Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to do it. Or maybe the universe, despite refusing to give Julie Luke in his entirety, did not want her to be protected. 

It was all in the little things-

When she stayed up with him in the garage, playing him all of the songs he’s missed in 25 years, and he danced around on the slippery floor in his socks and grinned at her with wide green eyes. The neon emerald in the dim light was reminiscent of driving on the highway and passing sign after sign leading to the exits she could have taken, but couldn’t bring herself to.

How New Years Eve arrived and the Molina family gathered in the driveway to light sparklers; Luke’s hand brushing hers as he passed off one of the two in his hands. 

In his head lulling onto her shoulder while she was trying to finish some homework with his help on the torn couch and his lips moving against her bare skin  as he mumbled that she needed to take a break before driving herself insane; followed by her braiding her hair to get it out of her face.

She already had driven herself insane -- but not over her homework. 

(His mouth on her shoulder was the answer to a prayer she never dared to murmur aloud.)

Luke never failed to be present when he was needed. If she was sick or stressed or depressed, he knew when to fuse to her side and when to offer some space. Through careful observation rather than conversation, he knew which of her many sweatshirts were reserved for illness or emotional support. 

In most of those situations, she needed him, too. Her fingernails would curl into his biceps through a cramp or wave of tears and he would wrap her in his embrace and swarm her with warm words that dried her eyes.

She hated it.

When they wrote music, it felt as though they were already reading each other's minds before either of them had spoken a word about their plans. Their journals contained inky black waterfalls spilled from an intimacy that Julie did not want to dissect. 

Again, she hated it. She loved it more than anything and hated that she loved it all -- because it could never be real. 

She would always play second fiddle to death. 

Julie made the promise to herself to not let Luke complete her because, while she had him for now, the night of the Orpheum was a reminder that the universe would not hesitate to snap it’s fingers and eliminate him from existence. 

The universe, being the confusing, stubborn bitch it is, just didn’t get the memo on that promise. 

Because Luke filled every crack and restored every gap in her being, and he shouldn’t.

The hopeless, pining romantic in her that constantly argued with her realist side said they were meant to meet. Even if it was brief and heartbreaking and had the power to hurt her in a way she didn’t understand, it had to happen. If it wasn’t supposed to happen, then how and why did he cross space and time only to fall at her feet?

(Soulmates, a taunting voice whispered. Soulmates.)

((The voice was locked in a closet as punishment.))

She didn’t want to entertain the word. It had too much of a forlorn, wistfully romantic sound to it that Julie didn’t need to associate with Luke when she spent most moments with him at this point convincing herself that she wasn’t in love.

Until tonight.

It is past midnight, which is when anyone’s mental state starts to alter. Things that would be labelled as bad ideas in the daylight could very possibly become fair game when shrouded in a darkness that made everything private. The two of them, Luke and Julie, Julie and Luke, are nestled together on the piano bench as her fingers tiredly press each cut of ivory in a working melody.

“I have an idea,” Luke says, gently shifting his left hand to cover hers on the keys. “Why don’t we press pause on this song for a minute?”

Then, she finally looks up at him. Her eyes probably have crescents like the dark side of the moon crossing her skin, and her hair is all over the place, but he’s staring at her in one of the rare ways that she hates.

She hates it because the look convinces her that she completes him.

This time, however, there’s a hope. A hope, and a hesitance, and she’s simultaneously extremely nervous and beyond curious as to what his plans are. 

“Did- Didn’t you want to finish this tonight?” 

Regret strikes across his face, but he recovers. The softness is back. “Yeah, I just think we need a change of pace.” Right hand on the back of his neck: A telltale sign of a confession of some kind. She’s seen it more times than is healthy. “There was another song I wanted to show you, actually.”

“Oh.” She blinks, he waits. “Yeah, uh, I mean, yeah. Show me. What do you have so far?” He clears his throat as he thrums through the pages to find his target. “The whole thing.”

Julie doesn’t have time to react -- although she’s already in a panic -- before the leather-bound book is being awkwardly shoved into her hands, and the first thing she sees at the top is Luke’s nearly illegible scribble of Dark Room (song for Julie).

“Luke-”

“Just read it.” His voice is significantly raspier than it was a minute ago. “Please.”

She can’t. If he feels the same way and the confession is undeniably in front of her, then what is she supposed to do? Would she rather break Luke’s heart now to save them both down the line, or delay the misery a little longer?

It’s not that she doesn’t want it -- she does. But she doesn’t know if she’s emotionally equipped for any of the options that are offered to her. The destination of any path she chooses leads to a world of heartache.

So, she does the only thing she can think in the moment: She reads the song.

Instantly, the lyrics are blurred from the tears in her eyes because she sees the words “love” and “together” and her greatest fears and grandest wishes are coming true. The sonnet proclaims that she’s his light that illuminated his once-dark forever, and that he was hers when they didn’t even know each other, and that he will be hers wherever he ends up next.

He just wanted her to know that he would have waited another lifetime in the blank, limitless limbo he was in for 25 years if he knew she would be there when he was set free.

And, in the moment, Julie allows herself to acknowledge that her promise is broken.

She’s fallen in love. 

And, apparently, he has too.

(Maybe they can claim just one night. The universe owes them that much, doesn’t it?)

“Julie?” God, he sounds so worried. A shaking finger trails up her jaw to catch falling tears, and his contact makes her gasp. He pulls away and shoves his hands together to fidget in his lap. “Julie, are you- Fuck, I’m sorry, I just fucked this up, didn’t I? I fucked it all up. Fuck, I-”

When she chances a look up at him for the first time in the couple of minutes that she’s been staring, hopelessly, at the song in her lap -- he’s got his face covered by his hands pressing roughly into his eyes, and he’s turned to face the piano instead of her.

He takes a deep breath, and it sounds… 

Stuffy. 

Three more tears leak from Julie’s eyes. More build up every minute as her right hand runs along his shoulder, “Luke…”

“No, Julie, please just drop it.”

“Luke.”

“I clearly misread a lot of stuff, and I’m tired, so maybe you can just go to bed and forget-”

Her hand wraps tightly around his upper arm like it’s done so many times when she has been in distress. “Luke.”

There’s a crack in her voice from sheer desperation. She needs him to look at her, so that she can wipe his tears and smile through the sobs and tell him he didn’t misread a single thing. She would wait a lifetime for him to come out of the dark room, she loves him too, and she’s going to forget all about it. 

And ask him to do the same.

At least the scratch of his name catches his attention long enough, because he angles back towards her, and swallows thickly before meeting her eyes. Salty teardrops linger against his eyelids and eyelashes; the red rimming illuminating the oceanic green to look like a gemstone. Her grip relaxes.

“Yeah, Julie?”

She attempts a smile. “The song is beautiful, Luke. I love it.”

I love you.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful, and you love it, but you don’t… I’m not in your dreambox, huh?”

He clearly hasn’t dug through it in awhile. He’s everywhere. Discarded guitar picks and notes he’s left in her school journals and plenty, plenty of songs.

It’s funny, because she told him her dreambox was for things that didn’t make her sad. Luke was a double-edged sword -- making her happy every day in a new way, and making her cry into her pillow at night.

How does she explain this? There’s a whirlwind of responses running through her brain and she can barely coherently comprehend any of them. 

“No,” she finds herself sighing as she raises her hand to his cheek, followed by her other hand so that he can’t try and turn away. “No, Luke, no… You’re wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m wrong?’”

Her bottom lip starts to shake. “You think I don’t love you back.”  Both of them feel their breath catch at her use of the word out loud. It feels like a secret that shouldn’t be repeated. “And you’re wrong.”

“... I’m wrong.”

“Of course you’re wrong! You really think I don’t love you back?”

“Why are you crying if you love me?”

“Because we can’t do this!”

He scoffs, and Julie’s heart is racing in her chest as he pushes himself off of the piano bench and her hands fall from his face. What has she done?

“That’s bull, Julie.” His fingertips tug at his hair. “You don’t need to make a big dramatic show to convince me it’s wrong just to let me down easy. You aren’t going to talk me out of this.” Dead-on, he stops pacing back and forth, and looks her in the eye. “I love you.”

Listening to him say it, the way his mouth moves and his voice ticks with conviction at each syllable, is what makes her break. 

“And I love you too.” 

He reels back. He probably wasn’t expecting her voice to raise from their odd, in-between whisper and normal volume.

“But don’t you get it? Luke, we aren't in some magical place where we can meet each other in the middle. A place like that doesn’t exist. You’re dead, and I’m alive, and any future here ends with both of us losing each other.” 

“Julie-”

“You said you would wait another lifetime, right?” Using his own lyrics against him. She watches his hands twitch before nodding; the movements of his head barely visible. “Then wait. Another lifetime, another two -- the fucking universe clearly didn’t want us to have this one, so we’re stuck waiting for the next one.”

Even through his clear and fighting need to argue, to talk with her about this, he stiffly nods his head. It’s obvious that she has thought way too much about this from the way she’s barely choking out each word before crumbling into tears before his eyes -- but then again, he’s thought about it too. 

Callused hands are running along her neck to tilt her face up out of the blue. She was too busy crying to notice that he had crossed the distance between them to stand right in front of her and assure that she was meeting his eyes.

“Luke-”

“No, Julie, it’s my turn. Please.”

She won’t argue with him. So, with a tender swipe of his thumbs under her eyes, he proceeds.

“Look, I get it. You think I don’t get it? I fucking hate being dead, for so many reasons, Julie. But if I never died, I never would have met you.” Her lips part, and maybe he thinks she’s going to protest because he smoothly lifts a finger in front of her lips that barely makes contact. 

(Julie almost presses her lips into it.)

“And you’re right. I wish there was somewhere that we could meet in the middle, but we don’t have that. I wish so many things, Julie. But none of them involve a life where I don’t have you.”

She whimpers, because listening to the man that normally chains his emotions in a cage bare his soul to her at nearly one in the morning is a seriously more out-of-body experience than she expected. She knew, deep down, that she loved him. But she never allowed herself to feel the all-encompassing warmth that she feels now.

“But hey, Julie, look at me,” he coaxes her with a tone that drips with affection. The pads of his fingers are nearly kneading into the back of her neck. “Like you said: The universe didn’t want to give us this lifetime. They couldn’t let us have all the fun, right?” Both of them let out a watery chuckle. “But they still brought me to you, didn’t they? They let me know you in this lifetime, even if we couldn’t have forever. I said I would be yours wherever I am. So even if this,” he gestures to his ghostly form, “isn’t forever, even if we don’t have this lifetime… You know I’ll love you forever, right?”

It was a monologue straight from one of her dreams that left her waking up with a manic smile and tears running down her face. 

Unable to form any other response besides an unaware nod, Julie waits for him to continue.

“And maybe, the universe will give us the next lifetime, or a whole new universe, or… Just somewhere where we can get forever.” 

Abruptly, his hands slide from her neck and grasp her hands like he needs to hold on firmly enough to believe that she’s still real in front of him. Julie is still speechless and teary, and in the most sentimental gesture, Luke kisses the back of both of her hands. 

“We’ll get forever, Julie.” His warm breath puffs against her skin. “I promise you.”

And, well, if he promises forever in the next life -- then why can’t she take what she can get in this one?

--

tags: @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @lydias--stiles @moreflowersthanweeds @pink-flame 

[robinistrying]

Chapter 10 with the boss but make it spicy :) +18

Okay so i was so frustrated that nothing happened between them in this moment because they’re obviously attracted to each other, i had to let it go out of my head ! Enjoy!!

We share a smile, and I try to hide my distress, but my thoughts are nowhere near this composed. How I’m supposed to act? What do I do? Is there any way out of this? While I’m struggling to reconcile myself to the situation, I’ve found myself in the boss put his hands on my waist. "We can’t... we are in someone’s else home” "I don't think that should matter. Besides... There is something sexy about doing it in a new location" The boss whisperers to me, his breath hot in my ear. I know that Huang is definitely watching us with his cameras. I can’t push him away. Do I even want to? I asked myself quietly. I managed to stick to my policy ever since that day, years ago... "What’s wrong?" Boss asked. "I think I’ll shower first..." "I don’t want to wait for that ... shower with me" All at once, he puts his arms around me. The boss face is so close to mine now, this is a man I have such intense feelings for... Is this the only consolation I’ll be allowed? That at least he is someone I care about? I gradually feel myself giving up. The boss encouraging the feeling in me, moves his hands over my body. I feel like he is able to touch even that lingering hesitation in me. Suddenly, to a mystifying extent, I’m overcome with feelings of love. The boss is incredible, his performance, for one thing and his ability to perceive what others are feeling. I wish he was the man who I have feelings for but with his others personas I’m not sure if I really know him. I wish tonight was the real us. And so i give myself up to the moment. A loving smile forms on the boss’s lips. This is my chosen profession. I have to go through with it. And so I crack a smile. "You know you surprised me today, I had no idea you bore me such a grudge over that dinner date of ours." "What can I say, I’d been looking forward to it for days." "Ah well forgive me, I promise I’ll make up to you soon." The boss continues his tender exploration of my body as he pleads for forgiveness. It feels so good that it slowly undoes my stubbornness... He slips his hands under my clothes and slides over my naked skin, his hands are so warm, so capable... His fingers as perfect as any sculptor could wish for, roam my body. He’s kindling a fire deep inside of me and my heart beats with new purpose. As I let out a moan, the boss sucks in his breath, mingled with my own. So physically I’m getting a little swept up in this, but I won’t let my feelings get swept away too, I hope. I try to lock my heart mentally and throw away the key. Yet I know that the warmth of the boss’s body and his scent, are doing a number on me. “I love the look on your face. It’s so sexy.” Then in a completely natural movement, he leans in and his kiss lands ever so slightly to the side of my lips. For a second I’m bewildered by the boss’s unexpected move, but even then I respond to his kiss. His muscular arms wrap around me, and I look up at him in raptures. "You must be in the rush if you can’t wait for me to take a shower." I said. I pull my face away from his, just an inch, and smile flirtatiously. "I can’t help it. I wanted this all night..." I can’t pretend that his words aren’t affecting me, because, he is amazing, the sound of his voice, the look on his face... it’s like he really wants me. But what was his intention kissing me next to the mouth? I’m still feeling confused when the boss guides me to the bed.

I lie down, and for a moment, he just stares at me with desire plain in his eyes. Then, like he is fully down with waiting, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, sucking on my skin... “Kazuya...” His name spills from my lips in a breathy moan. The boss’s breath is labored too, as he moves his mouth to my chest. The only sounds that can be heard are those of our breath and his lips as they do magical things to my skin. Even so, I continue to move my body in a natural performance of a couple being intimate. I gaze at the boss with amorous eyes as a woman in a passionate love with her husband. And I reach for the boss’s shirt like I can’t contain the rush of what I feel. I undo one button, then the next... then run my hands over the flesh of his broad chest. “God, you’re beautiful...” “You’re the beautiful one, Akari” His broad, muscular chest and strong dependable arms... He’d make any woman a happy wife. I access the fond feeling of a wife, who feels like the luckiest woman in the world. The boss impatiently reaches for my hand: "You forgot a few buttons." I stroke his neck and smile at him. My heart is pounding, his skin, slightly sweaty now, smells like a man. "That’s pretty kinky for you." "Don’t you think it’s sexy to do it with our clothes on? Be honest" "Aren’t you full of surprises? Yes, I like it... and if that’s what turns you on, i am happy to oblige" I was really turned on by his words. I felt slightly embarrassed but if I was going to sleep with the boss, I want to feel it as real as possible. He smiles then lies down next to me and holds his hand out to me. "Come here." No more foreplay, I take his hand and that’s it. We’re really going to do this... He pulls me close, so I am on the top of him. Although you can hear the sound of his buckle, you can’t see anything under my full skirt. “I’m taking yours off too.” He said in a sultry voice. His hands, under my skirt, touch my underwear. And that’s when I realized that I couldn’t hide how affected I was... Oh god. But he doesn’t take them off, he just runs his hands up and down my thighs. What are you doing boss? I thought. "You’re so wet, I can feel it" He said while letting the tips of his fingers tracing the edges of my underwear. “That didn’t take long” He added with a smirk. Bastard. I decided to trust my hips against him. Two can play this game. He was hard as a rock, he could tease but he was still a man after all. He gave me a surprised look, but he didn’t break his character, he was still wearing his flirtatious smile. Then I thought, maybe he planned to fake this, i had my suspicions when he kissed my face instead of my mouth... I’m not 100 percent sure of this plan, but for now, i’ll play along with the boss’s act and say in a coquettish voice.

"I’ve never done it in someone else’s house it’s exciting." "Please, tell me I don’t have to wait a second longer okay?" He puts his hands on my hips and moves me slowly like he is sinking into me. He rocks his hips back and forth. Under my skirt, nothing is going on, well almost. Sometimes I feel his bulge on my core, and I can’t help but bit my lower lip.

I wonder if he is as affected as I am, but he just lets a look of sensual pleasure onto his face, nothing more than we are supposed to do. I feel a bit frustrated but he said:

“Don’t stop.” I focus on that and let my inhibitions melt away as the boss and I, perform the act. I moved my hips like I was riding him, our bodies clashed one against the other, sending butterflies in my belly, I don’t know if he planned this but I felt his right hand on my ass, and the other one was locked on my hips as he was urging me.

I let my head fall back and look up at the ceiling as I arch my back further, still the sensation as I’m really making love to the boss, slowly but surely becomes very real. I mean it could count at least as dry humping like we were some horny teenagers.

With this particular confusion comes another feeling that I can’t deny, the proximity of his body and the feeling of his desire makes my heart races uncontrollably. "Does that feel good?" he asked. As our breath grows labored, I feel somehow closer to him... “Y...yeah” I said, feeling vulnerable. Suddenly he stops and claps me against his chest. We trade positions and the boss slides himself on the top of me. His lips won’t stop leaving my chest, and with this angle, I feel the head of his shaft hitting my clit, I prayed that our act would come soon to an end because I felt the orgasm building inside of me.

I felt like I was about to combust, I let my head fall back against the pillow, eyes shut, trying to hide how I was really feeling, even though it was pointless because I felt my drenched panties betraying me. I felt his lips leaving my chest and making their way to my neck and I heard him whispering: "Next time, we’re doing this my way... I need to make you mine, you don’t know how hard it is... I just want to push your panties aside and claim you..."He said in a raspy voice. His control is being swept away, and I smiled because at least I wasn’t the only one feeling this way. I let out a moan. "I know you like when I talk to you dirty like this, I know you want to come, you don’t have to pretend... I know it already. Look at me and say it, say that you want me to make you come and I will.” "Make me come then" I said out of breath in a challenging voice. “Ask nicely.” He said in a hard tone than I never heard before. I blushed, but my desire was stronger than my pride. "Please make me come..." and then I turned my head next to his ear so only he could hear: "Boss" No more pretending, I played my part. He attacked my neck vigorously with his tongue and teeth, he was definitely enjoying this, I had the impression that he was this kind of man, I guess I was right. He let out a chuckle and said: "Remember you asked for this." He swept his hand under our connected pelvises and touched my clit, his fingers exerted a light pressure on it and he started doing little circles with it. "I can’t wait for the day I’ll get to finally be inside you, I feel it how ready you are for me..." I gasped, I was so close, I felt my hips bucking on their own as I enjoyed the pleasure he was giving me, he grabbed my chin with his free hand and kissed me passionately, a sensual, passionate, kiss. Our skins were on fire. I couldn’t control myself no more as I moaned into our kiss.

Then I felt all the muscles in my body tense up, and the volcano who was slowly building inside of me exploded, I let out a loud cry as I was gasping for air. I felt the boss tense up as well and stopped bucking his hips slowly like he came too, but I know it wasn’t the case, he didn’t forgot that we were being watched.

When the sensations of my orgasm where slowly leaving me, I started to feel anxious, I stepped out of character and couldn’t control myself, it was so unprofessional of me, I was mortified. The boss as he sensed my fears took my face in his hands and said: "Stop. You were perfect, I couldn’t ask for a better wife, now let’s go to sleep." I hesitated. Is this really okay? Is he feeling what I am feeling? I don’t want this to be just a fling, but I was afraid that it was already too late. And then I felt a kiss on my forehead. His strong arms were around me holding me tight. Sleepiness was taking over me, I felt so warm, loved almost. I wanted to know what it meant for him. Boss please don’t let me down. I trust you... As he hugged me tighter to his chest, I heard a whisper but I was already falling asleep so I couldn’t hear: “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me”

[helaintoloki]

Of Monsters and Men

(collab piece with @obitwo !)

pairing: Dan Torrance x reader

warnings: language, nsfw content, smut, possessed Dan, some fluff sprinkled in throughout, 4k word count

notes: @obitwo and I are so excited to finally be able to share this with you all! This is my first time collaborating with another writer and it’s been such an honor to work with someone as talented as Claire! I wrote out the story/plot elements and Claire wrote out the smut sequence and together we made a piece we’re both very proud of. We sincerely hope you guys enjoy it!

summary: after narrowly escaping the clutches of the True Knot and the Overlook, Dan now has the chance to live a normal life with you at his side. But the hotel isn’t through with you just yet, and it’s up to you to satiate the hungry spirits.

It’s been exactly one month since the Overlook burned to the ground, and though the absence of Rose and the True Knot has made the world a much quieter place it definitely hasn’t rid your husband of the trials and tribulations that come with the shining. The ghosts of Dan’s past did not abate their torment despite having their home destroyed, and the task of locking them away in a box grew increasingly difficult with each new visitor. He was struggling, losing sleep, constantly worried about your safety as well as Abra’s, and despite how much you tried you weren’t sure how to help him. What could you possibly do to chase his monsters away?

It’s a tranquil evening in Frazier, leaves falling from the trees in the cool breeze outside as you get started on dinner for the night. You hope his mother’s old homemade chicken casserole recipe will be enough to provide some sense of comfort for your troubled husband. The Grady sisters had made a surprise appearance the night before and Dan was still recovering from the mental toll their visit had taken upon him; he had called in sick from work and stayed home for the day to nurse the splitting headache that had come with locking them away.

Tender kisses grace the skin of your shoulder as Dan wraps his arms around your waist and brings you into his chest. He’s exhausted, but he craves the solace your presence brings him and is willing to suffer through the ache at his temples if it means he gets to have you near. Your smile is a sight for sore eyes, and he takes pride in the fact that you are his wife.

“Feeling any better?” You muse whilst Dan presses a kiss to your cheek.

“No, but I’m not feeling any worse either so I guess that’s a good thing,” he chuckles softly. “What are you making?”

“Oh, well I know how much you loved your mom’s casserole as a kid so I thought I’d try and make it for you. Just a little something to raise your spirits a bit.”

A soft smile graces his features at your thoughtfulness, arms winding even tighter around your waist as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“How’d a guy like me ever manage to end up with someone as wonderful as you?” He hums against your skin, prompting a cluster of butterflies to form in your stomach.

“Oh, stop,” you giggle, lightly pushing him away. “You’re distracting me, I have to make dinner. Can you hand me the measuring cup? The glass one please.”

Dan’s head begins to throb as he goes to the cupboard, yet he thinks nothing of it as he retrieves the glassware. But then the room begins to spin and your voice sounds so far away as you start to talk about your day. There’s a rumbling from the darkest corners of his mind as the boxes begin to rattle, panic settling deep in his bones as both the measuring cup and Dan go crashing onto the floor.

“Dan!” You gasp, quickly falling to your knees beside him and resting your hands upon his taut shoulders. “Danny, are you alright?!”

A whine escapes him as he shuts his eyes and grips tightly at your thighs in an attempt to ground himself, hoping to fight the spirits off long enough so he can lock the boxes up tight and throw away the key forever before the spirits have the chance to escape. But they’re coming, and he’s too weak to stop them now.

“I can’t,” Dan pants heavily, a groan tumbling past his lips as he doubles over on the ground. He can feel the ghosts suffocating him, his breaths growing shallow with each box that unlatches.

“Dan, look at me. Danny,” you plead desperately. You don’t know how to help him, you don’t know how to make it better, you don’t know how fix it, and the helplessness you feel leaves you feeling sick with worry.

“You have to... You have to run.”

“Danny...”

“Run!” He bellows, startling you into getting up off the floor and back onto your feet. Your vision is blurry with tears as you slowly begin to back away from your husband whose shoulders are heaving with every strangled grunt that leaves his lips.

“Danny,” you weep softly from your spot in the kitchen doorway. He told you to run, but how can you leave him when he’s in so much pain?

Your quiet sniffles are the only sound in the kitchen when he finally stills. Dan is bent over on his hands and knees in a way that prevents you from seeing his face, and you take a single cautious step forward.

“Dan?” You call gently. “Honey, a-are you alright?”

Your husband raises his head slowly to meet your gaze, smirking at the horrified look that flashes across your features at the sight of him.

“Hi sweetheart,” he grins, and the sight of his milky white eye is enough to send you bolting towards the bedroom.

You can hear his thundering footsteps following close behind you, all kinds of threats and warnings accompanying them, but you urge yourself to run faster. This isn’t Dan, you have to remind yourself, this isn’t Danny.

“Come here, little pup!” He coos hoarsely with false tenderness, but his demeanor changes in an instant the moment you slam the bedroom door shut and lock it from behind you. One of his fists slams on the wood while the other hand violently twists and turns the doorknob. The frustrated growl that leaves him sends chills down your spine as you slowly back away towards the far corner of the room, eyes never once leaving the door.

“Open the door, little girl,” Dan says gruffly. “Open the door and I won’t hurt you. Let me in and I’ll forget the whole god damn thing.”

“I-I can’t,” you whimper, frantically scanning the room for your phone. As guilty as it makes you feel to do so, you know you have to call Abra. She’s the only one who knows how to bring Dan back, and you can’t afford to lose him to the Overlook. You’d almost lost him once, and you’d be damned if you’d let them win this time. Another bang on the door has you in hysterics- where’s the phone?!

“Y/n, darling, light of my life, open the fucking door,” he warns lowly. One more good strike to the wood will break it down, but Dan is willing to give you one more chance to behave yourself, to be the good girl he knows you are.

“Danny, please!” you sob, and with your denial of his request he slams his whole body against the door so that it breaks off its hinges and comes crashing to the floor.

“There you are,” he leers maliciously from the doorway, shoulders hunched and hungry gaze settled upon your trembling form in the corner. He staggers forward slow and calculated like a predator stalking his prey. The tears that fall down your face make you look all the more appetizing, and the fear that radiates off of you is almost enough to feed the hungry spirits festering inside of him.

“Stay away,” you warn fruitlessly, “get away.”

“Is that any way to treat your husband?”

“You’re not my husband,” you avow emphatically in an attempt to put on a brave face despite how terrified you are. “I know what you are, and I know that you’re not really my Danny. You’re just... You’re just a false face.”

The man that stands before you ponders your profession with amusement before striking in an instant. Your wrist is grabbed swiftly in a tight grip, allowing him to raise your left hand in front of your face.

“What a pretty diamond on your finger,” he mocks before raising his own left hand. The golden wedding band on his ring finger glints in the light, his deriding gaze ticking back and forth between the jewelry. “Are these not a symbol of your undying devotion to me? Does this not mean that you are mine to have?”

You have no counterargument to give because he’s right; you had vowed to be there for Dan through sickness and in health, and this was a time of sickness. You were his wife, you had taken on the Torrance family name and promised to surpass any challenges that followed the title, so you’d just have to overcome whatever obstacle came next.

“What are you going to do to me?” You murmur, gaze nervously following the hand that slowly creeps up your chest and wraps itself around your neck. You can’t help the shivers that prickle at your spine as his hot breath fans against your skin, tongue darting out to lick an agonizingly slow stripe along the column of your throat.

“You’ve been very, very bad,” he says gruffly, “and now you’re going to take your medicine.”

Dan watches you, ultimately sinister as he rushes you towards the wall by the hand on your throat, slamming your back into it. He hungrily mouths at your neck, hands planted beside your head while his wet lips leave marks across your skin. He's eager, voice husky, breathing fervently across your shoulder. Hips jut into yours as Dan presses his hardness against you, trying to satiate himself with the sheer intensity of his movements. He growls at the contact, nothing short of animalistic.

“Are you going to hurt me?” You’re still apprehensive and afraid of what this twisted version of your lover could do, but there’s no denying the heat that rises off your cheeks and emanates from between your legs.

“Hurt you? Poor, pretty little thing, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He’s still rocking his hips against yours, friction between his jeans and your clothes. “Do as I say and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

His dark and sensual stare does little to calm your nerves and you decide to give into him for your own sake. Hands lay upon your breasts, and Dan tilts his head back in satisfaction, groping and palming them.

“Touch me,” he croons and gasps when your hand reaches between his legs to palm his concealed length. He’s enjoying you, growing more and more primal with every passing moment. The sensation goads him and he forces his thigh between your own, harshly shoving it against your growing wetness. You pant as he further presses you into the wall, trying to rub yourself on his leg.

His thumb and forefinger catch your chin to tilt it upward, urging you to look at his blue eye and the ghostly white one.

“So desperate for me… and you were just trying to lock me out,” he mocks you, withdrawing his leg and letting your feet fully touch the floor again. In his trance, it’s what he wants; to feed off of the arousal, to release himself and be taken by his own desires. You want to fight it, but your involuntary whine betrays you.

Dan brings his face to yours, masculine features clouding your view.

“Do that again,” he snarls, hand returning to your throat and clamping down on it, earning himself another heavenly moan from your lips in return. He closes his eyes at the sound, leaning back and relishing in it, completely obsessed with having you at his mercy.

“Please, Dan,” you beg him for some type of relief to which he simpers cruelly. He needs to hear no more, bending down and wrapping his arms underneath you to toss you over his shoulder. Your arms dangle upside down, and you don’t bother to squirm. He walks purposefully towards the bed, hands gripping onto your ass before he lets you off, crashing on the mattress.

You huff at the drop, clearly appreciative of the manhandling. Dan is kneeling at the edge of the bed, yanking you towards him by your ankles and holding them firmly, his lips inches from your aching core.

All Dan is focused on is pleasure and power as he rips your clothes from your trembling body, careless of any tears he might have made. He sighs when he looks at you in your panties, a sight he usually compliments - but not now, he’s greedy, teeth grazing your hip to bite down on the fabric and pull it down your legs with the movement of his head. You feel yourself melting at the action, trying not to like this Dan too much - it’s not truly him, but the way he’s looking at you like he’s starving is entirely captivating, clouding you from your common sense.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he advances his mouth closer, then letting his gaze follow the curve of your thighs, spreading them neatly for his tongue and admiring them. He adorns them with harsh kisses, sucking to leave bruises on them, pleased with himself for marking you as his. His trail leads up to your wetness and he swipes a finger up your folds, gathering some of it and pressing it to his tongue. He likes the taste.

“Filthy girl.”

It’s then that his arms hook under your thighs to lock them over his shoulders. You’re unable to move, caught in him, and he knows that he’s going to torture you.

A slow lick up your clit sends you trembling at which Dan groans, vibrations coursing through your body. He’s deliberately tentative, providing unhurried laps at your clit, waiting for you to break. After several tormenting moments, Dan is kind enough to give you a full circle of his tongue, and you writhe under his clutch, legs begging for freedom and hips rising against his face. It’s enough for him.

“Sit. Still.” He’s ordering you now, and you know better than to be a brat and do it intentionally.

His stubble meets your soft skin in a rush, his tongue swiping madly at your clit and you’re back to trembling pathetically. He’s fulfilled with your response, his sexual prowess sending moans from your throat that fill the room with urgency. An arm releases one of your legs to let a finger prod at your entrance, under the tongue that flits across you. It dips in teasingly, merely deep as his first knuckle and you take the opportunity to squeeze his head with your free leg.

At your sudden defiance by not sitting still, he reaches up to run a palm across your naked breast which makes you falter. His hand stays there, massaging as he continues to eat you out with exhilarating competence.

“Dan…” You choke, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging it to release the rising tension of your body. He snaps at the pulling, evidently stimulated by it. Making no mistake, he consciously groans into you again, except it’s primal and electrifying, making you yelp.

“Good… Keep making those pretty noises or I won’t be so generous,” Dan nearly barks at you, mean, his voice hoarse and drunk on his urges. Finally letting his finger slide all the way in, he withdraws it at the same speed, pumping it and drowning in the sounds that you make for him.

The tension continues to rise, your body shaking violently. Dan knows what he’s doing; just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. You know he’s saving it.

“More,” you whisper boldly, weak from his delightful touch.

“Do you deserve more?” He moves his face away, but adds a finger to the first one, roughly thrusting them both in and out of you and biting his lip. He sneers, “I’ll decide what you get.”

You pause simply to keep shuddering, unable to speak with the sensation of his fingers hitting the right spot. He stops and leaves you a blubbering mess of moans and whimpers, leading Dan to decide on your next sentence for locking him out.

He rises, looming over you supported by his hands, hair falling handsomely. Your own hair is gathered from beneath you into a ponytail and yanked down to give him plenty of access to your neck, biting down softly into the juncture of it and your shoulder. Your legs instinctively wrap around him, trying to keep him touching you.

“So impatient.” His lips graze your ear and he nips at the lobe. “Get over my knee.” Dan disembarks from you, sitting tall and spreading his knees apart on the edge of the mattress, feet set firmly on the floor.

You mistakenly hesitate for a moment and find a rough hand pulling your hair again, and an expression on his face that warns you I won’t ask again.

Pitifully crawling over, you splay your body over his knees, your stomach against one of his thighs and your ass right where he can hurt it.

Dan briefly lounges with you on his lap, his weight leaned back onto his palms, admiring the beauty before him. His hand travels up the back of your thighs, crossing up to your waist, dipping under to feel up your chest. He smirks wickedly, raising his hand up into the air and sending it crashing down to give a sharp and loud slap to your ass.

A high moan leaves your throat and he repeats the action, faster than the first time, little pieces of hair slipping into his face from the power he’s exerting. You feel it deep within you, the painful but delicious sensations of his calloused hands roughing you up, slapping you hard as all hell.

“Don’t you go locking me out again, pup. You got that?”

“Mhmm!” You groan frantically, waiting to feel his red-hot palms strike you again. They don’t.

He instead reaches under to grab your windpipe, lazily turning you over and getting you to straddle him.

“Words.” He has no tolerance left.

“I got it.” You blurt out quickly as you can, not trusting yourself to carry a sentence any longer than that.

Dan guides your hips to grind you against his hard length, back and forth. Your head tilts with the movements, idly lolling. Another quiet noise and Dan can’t take it anymore. He’s finishes with his teasing of you; he needs to unleash.

He assumes his full, intrinsic and feral state, pushing you back onto the bed, and you rebound with force. He keeps you down, wrists pinned above your head and his lips are searching your entire body, biting, sucking, bruising - hungry for anything he can get. You don’t dare move, knowing he wants your full compliance.

His jeans are long gone, underwear too, forgotten somewhere on the floor. His skin feels smooth but hot against you, a gorgeous and soft feeling when his chest collides with yours. Strong arms are positioned on either side of your body, Dan lining himself up with your entrance. Your raising hips cause him to prod, whining as the head of his cock teases you.

“Does my dirty girl want my cock?” He gives a low groan to your ear and you’re losing yourself in him. The word “yes” is hardly loud enough, an inaudible whisper.

This time he doesn’t care for precision to your obedience. He doesn’t ask for a clearer answer, content with your submission to him.

He steadily presses himself into you the rest of the way, guttural moans seeping through his mouth that latches on to yours. Your thighs squeeze him closer and he stays a moment, fully immersed and gasping.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” The words almost can’t make it out of him and he leisurely pulls back, re-entering you with full, lusty force. You cry out his name and he basks in it, pumping himself faster, reaching so deep inside you that you can feel it reaching your stomach, your body quivering with the stimulation.

“Oh… Dan!” Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes with the sheer strength of him, and a thumb reaches to rub tight circles on your clit that still glistens with the wetness of his tongue. His mouth is agape, bottom lip curling onto his teeth from the pure effort he’s giving, and effort is about the only thing he’s giving. Otherwise, all he knows is to take.

Your jaw is swiftly and skillfully pried open, and Dan, possessed and sickeningly tempting, spits into your mouth, no regard left in him. It’s something he’s never done, especially not when he’s your proper Dan, and you like it. You swallow firmly and draw him in.

His head falls into your shoulder, biting it at the pleasure you’re giving him. You sigh, spent, and he bites again. He doesn’t flounder, maintaining steady and thrilling strokes that make your body stiffen and shake. Dan’s hankering grows and he plunges in a last time, reveling inside you before flipping you onto your elbows and knees and taking you immediately back onto his cock. His hands grace the curve of your hips to push and pull you over his length, and he yells out in his rapture.

His fingers trail up your back to wrap around the back of your neck, bringing your back flush to his chest, ruining you from behind. You sit atop his thighs as he stretches you out so good and not a single coherent thought passes through your mind. Thin sheets of sweat are the only thing between you.

His repeated hitting into the right spot has you wailing, your hands covering his own as he’s surely sending you over. Tingles sweep through your limbs and you come undone around him, clenching him harder and getting his cock all the more wet, trying to fall forward onto the bed and catch your breath. You’re given no such freedom, and he continues pounding into you, whispering dirty things into your ears as your orgasm is drawn out impossibly long.

“Nasty thing, you’re gonna make me cum.”

And so he does, warm inside you and it starts to leak out with his last excessive thrusts. He keeps you to his chest, panting, but his grip loosens ever so slightly.

A dull blissfulness clouds your senses and hazes your surroundings, eyes fluttering shut in an attempt to savor the warmth you’ve been encompassed in. The experience was new and terrifying, but it had satiated a craving deep within you that you hadn’t even been aware of in the first place. From behind you, Dan pulls out of you with a deep groan and allows his head to fall against your shoulder.

“Danny?” You call hesitantly, unsure as to which Dan you’re speaking to. It’s silent for what feels like a long time before he speaks again.

“Y/n?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh in relief before shifting in bed to face him. He looks absolutely spent, but the white film over his eye is gone and with it the spirits of the Overlook.

“What happened?” Dan asks tiredly, eyes widening at the various marks that little your body. “D-Did I do that?”

“Technically, yes. But um, you had a little help,” you explain meekly. “They came back.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he’s quick to apologize, the hands that had just choked and spanked you not too long ago now coming to rub soothing circles into your bruises. A content sigh leaves your lips at the feeling.

“Don’t apologize. I umm.. I was able to handle it.”

“Did... Did you like it?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” you nod with a sheepish smile. “You were terrifying, but you were also really, really good. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“I’m happy to hear that?” Dan says questioningly, prompting both of you to laugh. He smiles then, adoringly and full of love. “Oh, my brave, sweet girl.”

“I love you,” you sigh happily, taking his face in your hands and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “In sickness and in health.”

“In sickness and in health,” he repeats with a gentle smile, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you into another passionate kiss.

[firstumcschenectady]

"God, Stress, and Abundant Lives” based on 1 Kings 19:4-8

I'm mad. Mad that we – the big collective we – might have beaten this virus if we trusted our experts and prioritized collective well-being. Mad that we “can't have nice things” still, EVEN THOUGH science provided amazing vaccines in an unbelievably short time. Mad that I have to make decisions no one– including me – likes because the first rule of John Wesley is “first do no harm” and I really believe we have to do that.

But, a friend sent an article this week that pointed out that I'm not mad. I just think I'm mad. Or, more so, that anger is a secondary emotion that works well to mask primary emotions. The article said the emotion that I'm actually feeling is fear. (Note: do not try this at home. Do not tell someone what they're “really feeling” when they tell you what they ARE feeling. Really, truly. DO NOT DO THIS. The article got away with it by taking about generic people and I personalized.) The article speaks about people choosing not to be vaccinated and vaccinated people's anger responses:

Though this new flavor of outrage might look and sound like righteous indignation, mental health professionals say that what’s behind it is fear.

“It’s scary to admit that somebody else has power over you and you’re at their mercy and you’re afraid of them, but showing that is not a very American ideal,” said David Rosmarin, an associate professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and a clinician at McLean Hospital. “Instead of expressing that fear, it’s a lot more comfortable to blame somebody else.”

Anger is what people in his profession refer to as a “secondary emotion.” It’s a feeling that arises in response to a more primal emotion, like fear and anxiety over having some aspect of your life threatened. “The reality is that there are millions of people who are miseducated about something, they’re making a big mistake that will have massive consequences that might affect you and your family and that makes you scared,” Rosmarin said. “But nobody is saying that.”1

That article also says that part of what people are struggling with is that this was always going to be a “long war” but we didn't get that message from the outset. That fits for me too, I deal better when I have my expectations set correctly.

Two years ago I preached on this passage from 1 Kings 19, and afterwards several of you mentioned that you could hear in it my yearning for a break. (It was fairly soon before my renewal leave.) I hadn't meant to be that transparent then, and it makes me want to be a little bit cautious now, but....the story hasn't changed.

This remains a story of Elijah, prophet of God who has worked diligently for what he believed God wanted him to do. The response to his faithfulness has been a threat of murder that came directly from the palace.

Elijah is too tired to fight anymore. He fled for his life, but in the midst of the flight he lost even the will to live.

He prays, asking God to let him die, which would at least be less violent than the death otherwise planned for him. He'd walked into the desert for a day, and when he prayed he sat under a single broom tree, the only bit of respite he could find. The Bible seems to suggest this is a particularly sad story, it is the same one told of Hagar, having walked into the desert, exhausted her provisions, sat under a broom, and prepared to die. Just like with Hagar though, God meets Elijah there.

You may already know how much I love this story. He falls asleep, and wakes up when provisions have arrived. He eats, he drinks, he falls back asleep. When he awakes, provisions have arrived. He eats, he drinks, AND THEN he was able to go on.

I really love that he needs to sleep, eat, drink, sleep, eat, and drink before he can rouse himself. He has gone far beyond the “have a cup of coffee and keep going” point. He is exhausted. He is out of will power. He is out of a will to LIVE. If I were writing this story though, I'd add in some breathing. “He took intentional deep breathes until he was able to slow his body enough to sleep...” and then the rest of the story. It would make it just a smidge better.

Probably because of the book I just read, I'm noticing that the story as written (and more so as adapted), Elijah is given the chance to “complete the stress cycle” in this story. The book is “Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle” written by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. In their opening chapter, they distinguish between stressors and stress. They point out that we need to complete the stress cycle, no matter what is happening with the stressors. And they name, concretely, how to do that. The first and best option is to “do literally anything to move your body enough to get you breathing deeply” for 20-60 minutes a day.2 Elijah walking into the desert for an entire day seems to qualify.

The Nagoski sisters offer 6 other ways to complete the cycle though: 1. “deep, slow breaths down regulate the stress response”3, 2. positive social encounters (even causal ones), 3. laughter – but the real deep belly laughter kind, 4. physical affection from someone you trust (they suggest a 6 second kiss between partners or a 20 second hug with someone you like, snuggling a pet), 5. crying, and 6. creative expression. In other chapters they also talk about meditation and spiritual connection, so I'm going to add a #7 – whatever prayer practices work for you. They're suggesting that we do at least one of these, and better many of these, every day. Because the stressors keep coming at us. And their book was written in 2019, so it is WAY MORE TRUE today.

So Elijah. He took a long walk (check), I'm all for pretending he took some slow breaths, he maybe had a positive encounter with the angel? (does that count??), and I'm quite sure he cried a lot, the Bible just forgot to mention it. He also took care of his bodily needs for rest, nourishment, and hydration. (Chapter 7 of their book is all about rest.) He also named his despair to God, and naming emotions has a lot of power too.

This little story has a lot of good responses to despair and burnout. Which is good, because many of us are in despair and/or burnout in at least some aspects of our lives.

The pandemic has challenged all of us. The challenges have differed, because we're different, but we've all been challenged. Having another wave is definitely not helping anybody. We're mad, whether or not that's a primary emotion, sad, fearful, and maybe even detached. We're exhausted.

And most of us are comfort seeking. We want things to be easier. We NEED things to be easier. We're looking for things that sooth, ease, comfort, and console. Often, we're looking for things to be “back to normal,” familiar, and make sense like we're used to. We're human. That's how we work.

Another facet of how we work is that when we're in high stress, we revert to earlier and lower levels of emotional functioning. We blame. We over react. We fight. We flee. We gossip. We triangulate. We take all our anxiety and we try to get rid of it by sharing it with others or throwing it at them. This too is human. It is how we work.

No one I know is operating at their best right now. We can't.

What we can do is seek to complete the stress cycles – we can't change most of the stressors, but we can give ourselves the best possible chance to change the stress. Our bodies, minds, and spirits are all connected, they're all “us.” When we care for each of them, we give all of them a chance to do better.

I believe that God calls us all to life abundant. To full, meaningful, connected lives. To spiritual depth and work that matters and relationships that give life. Elijah went from that broom tree to the Mount of Horeb where he deepened his relationship with God, and then on to meet his protege Elisha and started to pass on his labor to the next generation. It wasn't God's intention that Elijah struggle alone, or burn himself out. It isn't God's will that we struggle alone nor burn ourselves out either. God wishes for full, abundant lives for us all. That's part of why we take care of each other, and share love in the world. So, dear ones, I encourage you to complete your stress cycles, name your emotions, connect with your dear ones, engage in prayer, and live life as abundantly as you can. God wants it for us, we want it for each other, and the world needs us as healthy as we can be! May God help us. Amen

1 https://www.statnews.com/2021/08/02/belated-realization-that-covid-will-be-a-long-war-sparks-anger-denial/

2 Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski Burnout: The Secret to Unlokcing the Stress Cycle (New York: Ballantine Books, 2019) p. 14.

3 Nagoski, 15.

[julilihatfun]

Prompt? Geralt leaves Jaskier in an inn on the promise he will return but is gone for a week. When he comes back, Jaskier is sick with fever and passed out on the floor or in the bathtub close to drowning (whatever you choose!) Bonus: Geralt left having a slight feeling that something was already wrong with Jaskier but left on the hunt anyway, cueing guilty feelings.

Thank you for your prompt! (PROMPT ME GUYS, I’M STUCK AT HOME ALL ALONE AND I NEED SOMETHING TO DO!!! :()

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“Don’t wait up.”, Geralt had said to the bard, briefing him like some men might would their helpless housewifes, stuck in an unhappy marriage. Except Jaskier and him are not married – even though it sometimes feels a bit like they are, with Jaskier pretty much attached to him at all times, their pointless bickering and most importantly: them sharing beds whenever they’re short of coin. Point is: they are not, so Geralt had kind of expected Jaskier to survive a day or two without him – having imagined him drinking ale and frantically trying to make everyone that stands to close to him like him. Jaskier is like that: clingy and desperate for attention. And Geralt tries not to give him too much of it, because if he spoils the bard too much, it usually backfires – additionally, he already cares to damn much about the fragile human than it is healthy for someone in his profession to do. If Jaskier gets his way, Geralt would probably never be taken seriously again – and that could get really dangerous really fast.

“How long will you be gone?”, Jaskier had asked, eying him with his stupidly blue, big puppy dog eyes, still frustrated at being denied the opportunity to trail along (and probably get killed in the process).

“Probably ‘till morning – possibly even a bit longer. Just stay here and don’t get in too much trouble.”

And Jaskier had gasped in his usual, dramatic way, theatrically clutching his chest. “Geralt I would never!” Then, he had eyed Geralt, a hint of seriousness in his gaze. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Hm.”

“See you tomorrow, then!”

Yeah. That had been six days ago. The fucking beast had been much more difficult to find than Geralt had expected and it had been a real pain in the ass to kill.

So as Geralt steps into the inn, nearly a week later, he wants nothing more than to just take a long, hot bath and then sleep for two days straight. Maybe eat a nice, hot meal.

The keeper of the inn – a nice, middle-aged woman with a kind smile – greets him in an uncommonly warm way. “Witcher!”, she simpers. “I think we are most indebted to you.”

Geralt shrugs. “The mayor already paid me plenty.”

The woman laughs. “I am talking about myself and my family. Your lovely companion brought in more paying guests this week than we ever had before.”

Geralt grunts in irritation. He just wants to rest. Not have pointless conversations about stuff that barely concerns him. Although – he guesses, that Jaskier probably made a fair bit of coin too, which is much needed.

“It’s a shame we have not seen any of him since the day before yesterday.”, she continues. “Send him down here if you do catch a hold of him, would you dear?” This does grab Geralts attention.

“What?”

“Probably needed his peace, the poor boy. He did look awfully tired.”, she says, thoughtfully. “You do too, come to think of it. Have something to eat? On the house, of course.”

Geralt shakes his head absentmindedly. “Not… right now. Send something up later, maybe?” He tries to make his face look friendly(ish). “Thank you.”

Then he turns and stalks up the stairs. Hiding away was so unlike Jaskier, that it sends wave after wave of uneasiness through his entire body. With every horrible scenario that enters his mind, his pace quickens and the exhaustion he had felt before is long forgotten.

When he bursts through the door, he is met with silence and a weird smell that is heavy in the air.

“Jaskier?”

More silence. He searches the room for any sign of the bard. The first thing he sees, is the lute, which is a clear indication of Jaskier not being far away. Unless someone broke in and-

The heavy pile of blankets on the bed is slightly jostled from within and Geralt rolls his eyes. Right, not kidnapped then.

“Jaskier, what the hell is going on?” This might be good. Maybe Jaskier is just really hungover.

Geralt takes two big steps and yanks the heavy duvet away, fully revealing Jaskier. But he barely has the chance to look at Jaskier, before the bard snaps awake, desperately trying to untangle his feet, that were still stuck in the ball of blanket at the end of the bed, and letting out a girly scream.

“Step away!” Jaskiers voice is raspy, but unwaveringly steely – so much so, that Geralt thinks his bard would have anyone else fooled.

“Or what?”, Geralt chuckles. “You’ll write another song about me?”

Jaskier finally manages to fully turn and sit up. He catches sight of Geralt and gasps, jumping up and stumbling towards the Witcher in order to grab one strand of Geralts hair in fascination. “Geralt.”, he whispers. “You’re real.”

Geralt stares at Jaskiers shaking fingers still tangled up in his locks and furrows his brows. “Yes.”

Jaskier looks up. His eyes look dull and glassy. “I thought you-“ He breaks off with a deep breath, that he releases with a shudder. He is swaying on his feet, his face looking ghastly.

“What happened?”, Geralt sighs, putting his hand on Jaskiers shoulder to steady him. He frowns at the heat that radiates through Jaskiers shirt and moves his palm up to the bards red-tinged cheek.

“Jaskier you-“, he starts, but then Jaskier throws himself forwards and locks his arms around Geralts muscly torso, burying his face in his collar.

“I thought you’d died.”, Jaskier whispers and then, to Geralts great horror, lets out a sob.

Geralt awkwardly pats the bards back. “Hunt took longer than expected.”, he grunts. “You should have asked for a healer.”

“I was mourning.”, Jaskier mumbles into his chest. Like it was obvious and Geralt can’t bet but roll his eyes again.

“How long have you felt like this?”

Jaskier shrugs weakly. “Dunno.” He snuggles up more closely towards Geralt. “What day’s it even?”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “God, you’re delirious.”

“Yeah.”, Jaskier chuckles dreamily. “Thought you came back y’sterday, but then ‘t was jus’ a-“, he breaks off, frowning for a moment. “Halluci-something!”, he finished, giggling manically now.

“Okay.”, Geralt says, at a loss for words. This might be more serious than he had first assumed. Jaskier had stopped laughing in order to gasp for breath, slumping against Geralt heavily now.

“Okay.”, Geralt repeats. “Lay back down, yeah?”

“Mhh, sounds nice.”, Jaskier approves, but does not move away from Geralt.

Geralt lets out a long breath to calm himself down before removing Jaskiers arms from around his middle.

“Hey!” Jaskier moans in indignation. “Not lettin’ you go ever ‘gain.”

“Yeah, more like I’m never leaving you unattended ever again. Get in bed.”

The bard grumbles unhappily, but let’s Geralt manhandle him back under the covers. When he looks up at the Witcher then, his eyes look a bit clearer and disturbingly serious. “Stay?”

“Hm.”

It may not be a real promise to anyone else, but Jaskier understands. Relaxes.

Geralt mentally bids goodbye to the idea of sleep in the near future and starts to gather some herbs from his bag, brewing what he hopes will get Jaskier back to his feet quicker.

He kind of hopes that Jaskier will doze of soon, but the bard just keeps on chattering away, stringing together sentences that are barely sensible.

“Have to tell me all ‘bout… y’ know… monsters and stuff.” or “It’s real’… freezy here.” – but mostly just different variations of: “’m sooo glad that tha’ ‘ur back”

“You should really try to rest.”, Geralt repeats, when he has given up on waiting for Jaskier to get tired of talking on his own. He kind of enjoyed the familiar blathering after a week worth of having nothing but his own thoughts to distract him from the absolute silence around him, but that did not implicate that he has to humour Jaskiers inability to shut up.

“No.”, Jaskier frowns. “You might vanish ‘f I go t’ sleep.”

“Not a hallucination, Jask.”, Geralt mutters for what feels like the thousandth time.

“You dun’ know that…”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Kind of think I do.”

Jaskier moans in obvious disbelief and Geralt decides to let him be. He needs to focus on the medicine.

When he has poured the liquid down Jaskiers throat and moves to finally set up his sleeping roll on the floor, fingers weakly wrap around his wrist.

“Lay down w’ me?”, Jaskier pleads, and Geralt hesitates. “Be sensible Jaskier. The bed’s too small and you need real rest.”

But asking Jaskier to be sensible is probably a major mistake on his part he decides, as the bards eyes water.

“Have t’- have to… feel you.”, Jaskier whimpers. “Know ‘ur really here.”

Geralt sighs, silently hoping that his herbs will do their job soon as he pushes Jaskier closer to the edge of the bed in order to make room for himself. “You’re awful.”, he says, but it sounds to fond, that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice.

Jaskier latches onto him before his head even touches the pillow and the heat that radiates from the bard is majorly concerning. Geralt rubs Jaskiers shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner and Jaskier cuddles up closer.

“Sleep now. Get better.”, Geralt grunts and Jaskier nods.

“’K.”

 And when Jaskier gasps awake close to ten hours later, he is still curled into Geralts side, feeling more rested than he has in days, blinking confusedly.

The Witcher jerks out of sleep too, instinctively curling his arm more tightly around Jaskiers body. They are both sweaty and gross, but Jaskier does not feel as hot anymore and Geralt feels incredibly relieved.

“Well, congrats on no longer being in danger of frying your brain.”, Geralt huffs.

“Thank you?”

It’s obvious that Jaskier only has a vague idea of what went down in the last day or two.

Geralt sighs and untangles himself from the bard in order to grab the jug from the nightstand. He helps Jaskier into a sitting position and pushes the waterfilled pitcher into his hands carefully.

He watches Jaskier drink for a moment, deep in thought. Then, he sighs again. “Sorry for making you worry.”

Jaskier looks up, startled. He stops chugging the water greedily and furrows his brows. “You didn’t do it purpose.” He pauses. “Did you?”

“’Course not.”, Geralt agrees. He takes in Jaskiers still-too-pale face and the way his sweat-soaked curls stick to his forehead and curls his lips unhappily.

“You’re awful at taking care of yourself, by the way.”

Jaskier huffs. “You’re one to talk!”

[portfolio-]

It’s Okay Not to be Okay, Episode 5

Rapunzel careens too close to the ledge in this episode, with Moon Young spending the night at Kang-Tae's home, which led to a lot of hilarious yet poignant moments.

I found it funny that Kang Tae and Moon Young almost checked in at "Bates Motel", alluding to the television show of the same name. For those who haven't watched it yet, Bates Motel tells a story about a mother and child tandem, Norma and Norman, that resided in a motel somewhere interstate after the death of Norma's husband. I haven't finished the show, yet some of the reviews I've read online described Norma to have saved his son from around him and from himself as his mental stability declines. I find it interesting because isn't that the dynamic slowly beginning to form between Moon Young and Kang Tae. Not to say that Moon Young will eventually degenerate into a serial killer despite her harmful tendencies. She is ruthless and unforgiving, but as the show progresses, I am slowly believing that there is redemption at the end of the line for her. But right now, Moon Young's actions are becoming ruinous to those around her, something Kang Tae has easily seen and is trying to protect his brother from. The same can be said for how Moon Young's recklessness has been ruining her career. I really feel bad for Lee Sang In (the CEO of the publishing company) and Yoo Seung Jae (the art director) for all the mess they're about to clean up.

Eventually, Kang Tae is forced to bring Moon Young to their house, wherein she hid her. I had fun watching them bantering a-la Romeo and Juliet by the window. It was also funny how Kang Tae did so bad at hiding Moon Young; the man can't lie to save his life! And Moon Young didn't help by being loud and stand-offish.

One of the lines that resonated to me in this episode is "Your lies carry a hint of sincerity. You make me want to believe them." by Moon Young. I love how they fleshed out Kang Tae's character in this episode, giving depth to the man that has given his life for his brother. He is unbelievably generous and loving, and I can only wish that all patients with mental health issues have a family as accepting as he is. He has put up an almost perfect front to his brother. Remember his line, "Sangtae is always looking at my face."? Kang Tae has always been self-conscious and almost always has been in control, all for his brother. I cannot even imagine the sacrifices he had to make. It's a beautiful yet painful depiction of brotherly love, which is already a win for me.

The kindness that Kang Tae has shown doesn't just extend to his brother, but also to the people around him. Moon Young felt that. "You ran to me instead of running away." Not that Kang Tae has a messiah complex, but helping just comes as naturally to him. Still, anything that is too much can break a person. Kang Tae doesn't want to relinquish that self-sacrificing aspect of himself. He always wants to side with the conventional good, something Moon Young keeps on debuking for him. He tells Jae Su, "I'm getting forgetful these days." But is he really being forgetful, or he is simply letting Moon Young in? He must be afraid of her. I would too, if I were him.

Now, Nam Ju Ri. What do I say? Nam Ju Ri reminds me of my teenage years, wherein my friends and I cry over unrequited love and the lengths we go for them. What I find relatable about her is her request to Kang Tae about not being uncomfortable with her even if he doesn't return the feelings. Didn't we all go through that? If you haven't, lucky you.

I also want to note how the show tackled the idea of countertransference. Remember that scene with the head nurse, Park Haeng Ja, how she reprimanded Ju Ri about her dealing with Moon Young? It is definitely a struggle faced by health care professionals. It's a small world after all, and by chance, you will cross paths with someone you may have had a rift with previously. Remember that the health care profession shouldn't discriminate.

There is a lot of comic relief in this episode, from the workers of the publishing company to Moon Young herself. I can't deal with her kidnapping Sang Tae; it is a genius and a crime. Anything to keep Kang Tae within reach, eh? Now, is she actually prepared to have the brothers under her roof? Is Rapunzel, for all the adventure she longs for, ready to bump heads with the prince (or is it Flynn Rider) of her choice? For sure, another pandora box is waiting to be opened.

P.S. Let me just say, gods, Kim Soo Hyun's baritone voice makes me melt like a puddle. Gosh. And Seo Ye Ji is an angel, I love her.

[littlemisskookie]

Loveless: Chapter 1

Loveless: Index Ship: Reader | OT7 Description: Spy/Men in Black!AU | You worked at an institution that dealt with aliens- aliens that were the fictional creatures we were told were from fairy tales. The job entailed love only for it, and nothing else. That’d all change when a mission goes wrong. Warnings: Future Smut, Mentioned Smut, Gore, Violence, Death, Sexual Tension, Bad Comedy Word Count: 6,348

Let's get one thing absolutely clear: aliens are real and they walk among the Earth.

They have for eons, really, swooping down on our little planet to play a visit or reside temporarily, typically hiding in plain sight or beneath humans' noses. The times they were discovered, though, alluded to a lot of ancient folklore and paranormal sightings.

Vampires? Aliens. Sensitive to sunlight and needing blood to sustain themselves, they went to Earth, a small clan that wreaked enough havoc to start a horrible movie franchise centuries later.

Ghosts were more common, mainly harmless save for the small group of "poltergeists". In reality, they were aliens from a planet that had become destroyed, resulting in their migration to your planet. Humans tended to latch the familiar onto them once they were sighted, confusing them with their own dead and such, or even creating mysteries surrounding them.

Loch Ness monster? A true monster that had been dumped from its home planet to Earth.

Demons? They originated from a fiery hellspawn of a planet, led by their leader Lucifer to your planet. Because of their horrifying appearance and deadly habits, they earned a bit of a bad rep, becoming intertwined with stories of religion. They were perhaps the most asshole of the immigrant aliens on Earth.

Fairies? One of the more diverse races, from pixies to dwarves, they had as many different races as humans did. Gnomes, banshees, leprechauns, brownies, hobgoblins, gnomes, and more. Some dwindled over time, however, due to natural selection.

There were some beasts that were raised in the wild or as pets by the aliens, from dragons, griffins, unicorns, pegasi, and more. The dragons were the hardest to tame, though, as they were the wildest by nature. That is why they are shown in both Asian and medieval European culture.

Mermaids were from the same planet as the Loch Ness monster, the great drought of 1488 BC bringing them to Earth. It was perfect, seeing as 3/4ths of it was covered in water, soon to be more with the rate of global warming.

Werewolves were one of the few that could attempt to live among humans, their appearance far closer save for the full moon. Some speculated that the reason for this was because the more human of their kind decided to mate with the dog-like beasts of their planet, and for them their genitalia was compatible.

There were far more where that came from, many continuing to flow in even now. They couldn't reside in the public with humans, however. Throughout history, there had been one thing that humans kept consistent: ignorance. If they couldn't even accept their own species for the color of their skin or their own preferences, how could one expect them to accept the foreign that lived amongst them?

And so there was one section that dealt in that aspect of Earth. A secret international organization that dealt with the affairs of humans and aliens alike, monitoring the immigration and crime and whatnot. Manage, monitor, and hide. That was the profession of the EAA- Extraterrestrial Affiliation Agency.

Where you happened to work, as it turned out.

They recruit only the most talented, lethal, and brilliant of agents to join the agency. Those who have exemplified skills that could bring them above and beyond, spies that could trick and fight anyone and anything, no matter how many arms. So prestigious, in fact, that there were never more than 26 agents at a time. From the ones filling the places managing to stay alive or those dying out quickly. They only accepted the best of the best, but sometimes even they found their betters.

They also only accepted those truly willing to commit. This meant no personal lives outside of the agency. All men were expected to get vasectomies, and women to get their tubes tied. Children were a distraction. No serious relationships inside or outside of the agency, though flings could be allowed. Should one even consider the possibility of love with someone or break the rule, they'd be invited out of the agency with their memories wiped. Relationships were a distraction. One must even fake their death to their family and friends, forbidden from having contact with them. They were a distraction. Love was a distraction.

Everyone within the agency was young. Young enough where they wouldn't be able to miss anything once they abandon their lives. Young enough to want to join a special task force that would make them feel at the top of the world, almighty and all powerful. In their physical and mental prime. No one had to worry about growing out of the job, either. That was fine, though. Another condition was to be willing to die for one's planet no matter what.

You yourself were Agent Q, your code name out of the alphabet. You specialized in the more so spy aspects of the jobs, remaining invisible and acting deceitfully in order to obtain information. Cold and cunning, you had learned long ago that the true trick to being a spy was in the acting. You had learned how to skillfully slip into any persona or personality, up to the point where you forgot which one you really had.

You had caught the eye of the agency when you were far younger, just beginning adulthood. You were a master of deceit, getting into both the FBI and CIA, at some point even forging a British identity to get into MI5.

All of it was considered training, however, when you were recruited for the EAA. Government agencies certainly had a thing for three digit acronyms. You were certainly one of the top agents, if not the top, excelling in each area applicable. Not to brag, but you had saved the world perhaps half a dozen times, whether it was Incubi who were attempting to seduce the leaders of the world to their every whim in an attempt to rule Earth or a group of yeti who were trying to escape Anartica by hijacking one of the traveling planes and causing a rampage in New Zealand. That was one of the many reasons why no one was allowed to fly over the South Pole, per international law.

You remembered your first few weeks as an agent, your mentor being none other than one Kim Namjoon, otherwise known as Agent B. At the time he was on the cusp of celebration, finally arranging a treaty between the zombies and satyrs, two species that had disgusted each other since the beginning of time. Pesky creatures.

Namjoon specialized in the more analytical parts of the job. He could see through anyone's lie with a mere glance. He easily had one of the highest IQs within the agency, which was saying a lot for an agency of your caliber. No one was by any means average in any area. Except for dick size- you knew personally. Namjoon was one who could do the math on the likelihood of immediate death within a second, and every prediction and calculation he had made turned out true. A god's death? Correct. The following plans for a pact of golems planning to invade Hong Kong? Easy. Which species humans could strike a reasonable deal with, perhaps reaping the benefits of their resources? Done. It was even said that he once outsmarted Death himself, though it was really an alien that originated the legend of the Grim Reaper.

He was a good mentor, letting you see how to settle or work around conflict without using trickery or fists. He had opened your eyes to endless possibilities of dealing with people and aliens, even tutoring you on each and every species known to man. Their tells, their weaknesses, their history. One must learn from the past in order to move on in the future. At least that's what the poster in his office claimed. Despite the fact he was barely older than you he seemed to be eons older in wisdom and smarts. You got to learn early on in the missions where you shadowed him.

Even after you excelled past the point of tutoring, you'd spend time with him, knowing each conversation would bring about new information. You still teased him on your first interaction, reflecting back on it in comparison to your well established and current friendship.

The head of the board had brought you down to the main facility, and you were too busy looking around at the creatures you had thought before to only be mythology to notice the handsome man before you.

"Agent B, this is our newest recruit, Agent Q. I expect you to train her until you feel that she is good enough to operate on her own. As a senior agent, I trust you'll train her well. She's excelled in physical combat and the arts of personas, but I'd like for you to specialize on the teachings of the different species as well as alternative routes such as negotiation tactics. Sprinkle in a bit of economy while you're at it."

Namjoon studied you for a minute. "She looks a bit soft for an agent."

You fumed inside but did your best to keep your composure. Still, you couldn't help but quip. "Would that make you hard in comparison? I'm certainly flattered, Agent B, but I would insist that you take me to dinner first."

The head of the board showed no reaction, instead turning away. "I'll leave you two to it."

You were left alone staring at your tutor, the man showing no reaction to your quip. Instead, he simply smirks, as though amused rather than offended. "Sense of humor, huh? Let's just hope that doesn't die along with everything else around here."

He begins walking, and you trail after him, right on his tail. "You're not that much older than me- how is it that you're already a senior agent?"

He laughed at that, dry rather than finding it humorous. "Agent Q, around here 30 is considered old enough to retire. Ancient, even."

"Well you know the saying," you sighed, "'I'm here for a good time, not a long time.'"

Namjoon's laugh was outright that time, genuine and boisterous, the smile reaching his eyes. He looks at you with a sincere amount of newfound fondness, patting your head jokingly, ruffling your hair in the process. "You're cute, you know that? Real cute. Smart mouth on you, too. Perhaps we need a bit of that around here."

"I told you before, Agent B, take me to dinner first before you try to get into my pants."

God, whenever you teased him about that he'd still get so flustered, leaving you with tears in your eyes and aching cheeks from smiling so much. Truth be told, you had a bit of a crush on Namjoon for the longest time. You never pursued it, however. You figured that through the training and tutoring he had seen you as nothing more than a little sister. Besides, flings were the most that were allowed, and you knew that if you were to sleep with Namjoon you'd fall. What was there not to admire? So you simply kept that bit of information to yourself, instead referring to him fondly as Agent Bitch whenever he said something to erupt butterflies in your stomach.

He wasn't the only one who had sent you in a daze, though. Perhaps it was the fact you couldn't interact with anyone outside of missions, which usually ended with them dead. Or maybe it was the fact that so many of the male agents around you happened to be extremely young and attractive, as hot as they were lethal.

Take Hoseok, for example, Agent A. (Agent Asshole when he was being a bit of a snippy prick.) He had been in the agency the longest. The way it had happened was quite amusing, too. One of the entrances to the base was disguised as an antique hat shop. A robot ran the place, an old lady by the name of Barbara.

She'd ask anyone the question who walked in, "What brings you to a tacky little hat shop like mine?"

The answers would vary, and anyone with the wrong answer would simply be treated as a regular customer, but the answer would be, "Because I like Howl's Moving Castle."

How was the EAA supposed to know that a little boy would say that?

And so a little boy, no more than ten, had gotten swept down to a base full of mythological creatures and men and women in black suits. Instead of wiping away his memories, however, the board saw an opportunity, in the young boy. He was an orphan, meaning no one would miss him. If they could train an agent from the age of ten, who knew how skilled they'd become? Perhaps he'd give way to more of his kind in the future.

And so in a sense, they adopted him into their agency, the boy donning a black suit similar to the adults around him, handling guns and speaking to species of all kinds. Years later and he was by far the most skilled agent in all of EAA, even set to inherit it in the future, acting as a future leader. This was the only life he knew. His specialization was in assassinating, desensitized to the screams and pleas of victims, alien or human, that he'd become a cold-blooded killer within a millisecond. Outside of the job, the boy was bright and bubbly, still rather childish in nature, though you suspected it was because of the childhood that was stolen from him. When you mentioned the cruelty of him being taken to a place like this at such a young age, practically groomed, he grew frustrated, angry with you and refusing to discuss the matter further. You respected his wishes, but you knew he had wondered what would've happened if he had simply said something else that day. Perhaps he'd be normal. He had every species' blood on his hands.

You remember the first time you had partnered with him. It was a straightforward kill mission. Make it clean, not sloppy. Hoseok's specialty. It had been for a political leader of the ogres, urging many to come out of hiding to live among humans, accepted or not. Whether or not his morals were correct, it wasn't something you could risk. The best way to resolve the question was to take him out, as negotiation wasn't an option. The ogre, 10 feet tall, was rather violent, killing the last two agents who had come to try to strike a deal.

You had known Hoseok for a while by now, though you had never seen him in action. You were so confused as to how this man could be a supposed killer, with the highest body count in the entire agency's history. He seemed to kind to be raised from childhood as a cold-blooded killer. He seemed to loud to be a spy, hiding in the shadows. He wasn't at all what you expected. You liked him a lot for this, truthfully, another silly crush. He was more light-hearted than the bastards that ran this place, and you couldn't wait for him to inherit the place. You couldn't imagine him being as cold as them.

That was before that day, however.

It was your first mission without Namjoon, your training just finishing. The board thought it'd be best to keep you with partners for now as you gained footing, perhaps learning more in the process. You were ecstatic that it would be Hoseok, doing a yell of glee once you were in private. You two had snuck into the bedchambers of the ogre, deep in a cave near the Pacific. You had snuck past the guards easily, quiet as you stayed in the corners, distracting them from their posts. It was easy, really. After Namjoon's lessons on each species, you had perfected each mating call to a T, so much so that you prided yourself in getting even a two-inch pixie to want to bone you. With the echoes of the cave, it was known that it'd take the ogres more than enough time to search for the mate in question.

You stood over his form, quiet, listening to his snores. You looked to Hoseok, his eyes trained on the ogre's chest rising up and down, the final breaths he'd be taking. "So should we wake him up? Give him one more chance-"

Hoseok didn't give you time to respond, pressing a specialized ray to the ogre's forehead and firing. The body lit up with electricity, bright blue as it convulsed and twitched, jerking wilding on the bed. You smelt burned and charred flesh, the ogre's body slowly darkening as Hoseok continued to fry him. Finally, it stopped, and you looked to Hoseok in horror, his eyes cold.

He simply held out his hand. "Dagger."

Ah, that's right. Ogre's still had to have at least one of their hearts cut out after being burned. With shaky hands you give him the dagger, frozen as you watch him plunge the knife into the corpse's chest without hesitation, expert cuts that let him carve the large organ out, almost as though he were scooping ice cream. The entire time he wore an indifferent expression, almost as though he were bored.

The color drained from your face. You knew everyone had this sort of side to them- cold. You should've known- even you did. You killed a few yourself, even back in the public government agencies. Then why did it shock you so much to see Hoseok's side? The same man who would do funny faces or dances in attempts to cheer you up after long drills? Who pinched your cheeks seeing the newest agent?

Hoseok held the heart for a minute, the organ still beating ever so slightly in his palm. He squeezed it as its insides gushed out, spilling onto the floor. You stepped back, letting him drain its contents, what was once someone's life.

He dropped it to the floor, grinding it with his foot as though to rub it in the dirt. "Alright, I suggest we leave now. Lord knows the ogres outside will be pissed seeing their boss dead, and sexually frustrated on top of that."

You say nothing, following him out, in the shadows. You can only stare at the back of your head, slowly processing what happened. It was only on the getaway boat that Hoseok seemed to sense something was off.

"Are you alright, Agent Q?" He seemed like himself again. Kind. Concerned. Caring. Human.

"I just... I was just surprised."

He furrowed his brows, confused. "I thought you knew that was how you kill an ogre? You've killed a few aliens with Agent B, I'd figure you'd expect stuff like that."

"I mean, I know but... I..." You bury your face in your hands. "God, it's so stupid. I feel like an idiot."

"What is it? You can tell me." He reaches forward to hold your face in his hands, but you flinch. He catches wind of it, his voice quiet. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No! I just... God this sounds so dumb. It's because it's you," you whisper, feeling guilty that you're making him feel bad. "I know your history and your reputation, but I never could quite believe it, you know? Everyone here can be cold or desensitized, even I am at times. You're so happy and loud and lively I guess I just thought you were different."

"Oh." He's quiet at that, following your words. Processing them. "I'm still the same Hoseok, you know."

"Of course I know! Nothing can change that. I guess it subverted my expectations. You did nothing wrong, Hoseok, really. It was my fault for being naive and ignorant. I should've seen it coming. It's part of the job, after all. It was a kill mission and nothing more. You were just doing your job."

He nods slowly but says nothing. This time it's your turn to hold his face, making him stare you in the eye. "Hey," you say, "it means nothing to me, ok? I'm just still getting used to this job. It's not you, I swear."

He licks his lips slowly, hands coming up to yours. You can feel the ogre's blood on his fingers, still warm. You say nothing.

"I guess I never thought about it much before. I've been doing this since I was ten. I should've been more mindful of your reaction."

"Agent A, absolutely not!" You let your thumb caress his cheek. "We'll have to do a lot more of that. Best to get used to it now, right? You're still kind and caring and sweet. You're still my friend."

For the first time, you could swear you saw an agent begin to tear up. You were sure however that it was a trick of the light.

He squeezes your hands, letting his head hang low. "I'm your friend?"

"If you want to be," you smile. "You're still the Hoseok I and everyone else adores. I wouldn't have you any other way."

He looks up at you, and you swear his eyes are shinier than usual, glassy almost. "Thank you, Agent Q."

"Please, call me Y/N. Agent Q was my mother's name," you smirk, earning a hearty laugh from him.

After that mission you had grown closer, your following missions running far more smoothly. You communicated a lot better, but you always noticed how Hoseok would look to you before killing the target, as though asking for your permission. In response you'd always place your hand on his shoulder, a weak attempt to pour your support into him.

It wasn't long after that that Namjoon got his next trainee. A young man by the name of Taehyung, easily one of the most gorgeous men you've ever seen. Apparently, he had heard about your agency and had gone out searching for it. How he wasn't caught and had his memories wiped was beyond you, but as usual, the agency found usefulness out of those who came to them. It impressed them, which was saying something.

You had hopped into Namjoon's office, giddy at the news of his newest student. Admittedly you were a bit unprofessional, barging in to get an eyeful of the boy. "I hear Agent B's got a new apprentice!" you say. The boy had been here for three days, but you were shooed away by others who insisted you'd scare him off or intimidate him. Truth be told you were sure they'd think you'd want to jump his bones the second you saw him- and you couldn't deny it. The man was the definition of beauty. The moment your eyes landed on him you were stunned, eyes wide. "Holy shit."

Namjoon sighed, running a hand down his face. He knew this was inevitable. "Hello to you, too, Agent Q. I'd like to introduce you to Agent V, our newest recruit. Agent V this is the one I most previously trained, a major pain in the agency's ass."

"Oh please, Agent Bitch, he's more than welcome to call me Y/N." You smile at Agent V, his eyes trained on you, and truth be told you enjoyed the attention from the handsome man. "What made you want to pursue a place like this? Were you a huge Star Wars fan when you were younger or something?"

Taehyung smiled weakly at that, a rectangular smile you couldn't help but melt at. "I've been dreaming about this sort of thing my entire life. I was considering joining the CIA, but I came across the extraterrestrial, and long story short it led to you."

You laughed at that. "CIA's for pussies anyway. I should know. The pay isn't that good either. I specialize in identity and personas, essentially the best actor in this entire cult they call an agency."

"Oh, I specialize in weaponry," he says, taking your outreached hand to shake it.

"Weaponry?" You quirk a brow at that, looking to Namjoon.

"He can take a rock and a stone and make it a Sonic Blaster 5000. Kid's impressive."

"I'd think so, seeing as he's here." You turn to him, winking a bit as you give his hand a firm squeeze. "I look forward to working with you, Agent V. Maybe you can make me a few other kinds of weapons."

"He's not going to make you a vibrator, Agent Q. Now will you please annoy someone else?" he huffed, shooing you out.

"It was worth asking-" You didn't get much else out as he proceeded to slam the door in your face. That was fine, though. You ended up working with Taehyung on various missions and even heard from Namjoon about the young man's crush on you. You were flattered of course but never pursued the mutual attraction in fear that he'd fall for you in turn. You never let his tiny crush on you get in the way of friendship, dubbing him with the name of Agent Vagina on a mission to Greece, where you'd interact with many of the creatures from Greek Mythology (a subject you were thankful you passed back in school).

There were others, however, who were far more open about their attraction to you.

Take Agent C(unt) for example, AKA Kim Seokjin, specializer in medicine and healing.

You had to admit he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life. You checked out his ass about as many times as he checked out yours, if not more. Even if it wasn't as round as a few other agents, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander whenever he picked something up.

However, Kim Seokjin had to be the cockiest bastard you knew. (Part of the reason you nicknamed him Cunt instead of Cock was to get under his nerves. He was so proud of how much he ate pussy anyway.)

He was hot and he knew it. It was rumored that he got a siren to fall for him, though you wouldn't be surprised if he spread that rumor himself. Some did speculate however that he had some siren blood in him- that or incubus. He was also the biggest flirt you knew, sexual jokes accompanying many of his annoying puns, and you'd never let him know, but you always did your best not to crack up hysterically. He might have the worst dad jokes ever, but you liked them nevertheless.

It was at some point during a mission of kidnapping a local succubus that he wouldn't shut up about letting you borrow her. All while she was tranquilized in the back of the agency's jet, for crying out loud!

"I mean I'm not sure if you swing that way, but I'm sure you can use a good lay, Agent Q," Jin smirked, knowing exactly how to tease you.

"Dear God, Jin, fuck you!" you say, though both of you knew you weren't angry in the slightest.

"You offering? I mean I'll take her place if that's what you want." He wiggled his brows for emphasis.

"Agent Cunt, last I checked you'd fuck anything that walked on two legs."

"Last I checked you walked on two legs."

"You've got to be kidding me," you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Come on, Y/N, you know you're attracted to me. Just look at my face!" He takes on hand off the wheel to blow an exaggerated kiss, which you catch and crush beneath your palm.

"As if." You roll your eyes. "Get over yourself, Jin."

"Or you could get under me."

"Ew! You're shameless, aren't you?"

"C'mon, we could do it in your office! Right on your desk! Facetime the bitchy Head of Board while we're at it," he jokes.

Truth be told you would've. Jin was right to say you were attracted to him, and you couldn't picture him as a relationship type. Honestly, the only reason you hadn't jumped his bones yet was to spite him for his arrogance.

There was one coworker who you had a tryst with. An agent by the name Park Jimin, code name Agent P. The man specialized in alien communications, fluent in every language known to man and above. He was one of the sweeter guys in the business, a soft personality everywhere but in bed. You were attracted to him of course- and who could blame you? He was gorgeous. Or maybe it was because you seemed to be attracted to every man in the agency. Nevertheless, it was after a work party, a celebration after winning a battle against the band of gorgons. You had lost five agents in the process, but your agency had to look on the bright side. It could've been more. No one could truly mourn their loss, so they chose to celebrate their achievements.

After all, rule #1. No distractions.

You and Jimin had gotten drunk, and truth be told it was far better than expected. You would've figured you'd given into Jin's flirting that night, but instead found yourself bent over your desk by a completely different man. No facetiming your boss, though, unfortunately.

It did make the mission right after a bit awkward, however, but the two of you agreed that you'd stay friends and eventually the awkwardness faded. Whenever you wanted Jimin to shut up when he was on one of his rants about a coworker, you'd simply tease him about the fact he came first. Worked every time, despite the fact that he made it up to you by eating his cum out of you.

You remember the most recent argument when the two of you were arguing over who'd get to convince Lucifer himself to go to a meeting with the agency. Neither of you wanted to do it.

"You speak every language! Maybe speaking in demon will make him a bit more pliant!" Usually you yourself would be up for the challenge, but there was a reason why Lucifer was never depicted wearing clothes. It was always weird for you to look up from his flaccid red willie just swinging about.

"What about you? You specialize in identity and personas- that means you're the best liar in the entire world! You do it!" He argued back.

"No way! One, I prefer to call it acting, not lying. Secondly, man to man would be better. Maybe you can communicate by doing the helicopter."

"You're insane! I don't think the wooshing of our dicks in the air is gonna convince him to come to the base and have the director and head of board chew him out for going over the quota of stolen souls."

"It's not like I know how to speak demon talk! I tried and failed. I only speak a little bit of gnome and parseltongue- neither of which he speaks."

"Parseltongue- are you shitting me woman?!" His eyes bugged out of his head.

"Big talk for a guy who blew his load first."

"I swear to god I'll have you cum enough times where you beg me to stop next time, just to get you to shut your trap about that."

"Oooh, Agent P, are you mentioning a next time?" You wiggled your brows, teasing him as his cheeks flushed red. "I'll have to check my calendar! Will this make us official fuck buddies?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Fine, I'll do it. Jesus Christ."

"Thanks, Jiminie! Just for that, I won't call you Agent Pussy for at least a week," you say, giving him a peck on the cheek out of gratitude.

"Whatever, Agent Quip. You're lucky I like you so much."

That's true. Everyone seemed to like you in the agency- save for a certain Min Yoongi. AKA Agent D(ick). He specialized in torture- an area of the field that you weren't exactly the keenest about.

You two wouldn't have the most friendly of bantering, a bit closer to bickering. He'd get frustrated with you when the two of you were torturing a target, trying to get information out of you. You were annoyed with him because he'd nap through important meetings and never seemed to be listening to anyone. The two of you were archenemies, but admittedly you worked well together.

"Agent Q, would you please look where you're putting that?" Yoongi grumbled, swatting your hands away to take the tool. "Makes me wonder how you made it in here in the first place."

You grimaced, staring at the target. The New Jersey Devil, tied down and carved into, refusing to spit about the whereabouts of its colleagues. "You're one to talk. All you do is nap in your office and during meetings. Your entire specialty is based on sadism."

"You're lucky you're not the one on this table, Agent Q, otherwise I'd have you broken within five minutes," he grumbled back.

"Why Agent Dick, is that a proposition for kinky sex?" you guffawed.

He snorted. "Keep dreaming, baby."

"Pet names now? Such a charmer," you continued, your voice laced in sarcasm as you ran your hand down his back, mainly trying to distract yourself from the scene in front of you. "I knew that mask of annoyance was to hide your attraction to me."

He stiffened, rolling your touch off him. "Rule number one, Agent Q."

"This isn't distracting you, is it?" You toyed a bit with his tie before leaving him alone, taking the tool in hand as you decide to stop bothering him. "Alright, I can handle this bit. I just need to get used to this."

"Be my guest," he says, watching you as you finish where he left off.

It isn't long before you feel his fingers thread up your hair, slender fingers running up your scalp in a smooth massage.

"Yoongi," you breathed, your voice soft.

"What is it?" You feel his hot breath hit your ear from his position behind you. "This isn't distracting you, is it?"

You stiffen as he gets about a fistful, and you anticipate the yank, but it never comes. He lets go, laughing at your tense form, frozen and awaiting his actions. "Figured you'd like a taste of your own medicine," he chuckled.

You shoved him, rolling your eyes. "You're such a dick."

"It is your nickname for me," he smirked, letting you continue your work until the New Jersey Devil began to squeal and kick. "I think it's ready to talk. Bring in Agent P."

It had been a few years after joining the agency that you finally got your own trainee. Jeon Jungkook, Agent Z, nickname pending. His specialty was combat, and he was surprisingly more buff and thick than most of the guys around here, though they weren't anything to scoff at by any means.

He had a softer look in the face than you were expecting from an agent. For a moment you were brought back to the moment you and Namjoon had met. You got it now, especially with his doe eyes and bunny teeth. He looked too pure.

However, the skills he had shown, even beating you in combat to prove himself. In fact, he beat everyone in one on one combat, an effort to prove himself. You should've known by the busted knuckles that he was more than his eyes gave away. You had expected him to be slow, but he was quicker than you. You expected him to be less agile, but you were wrong there too.

And by God, by the end of it, you were ecstatic to work with him.

He had finished battling Seokjin, managing to keep his pretty face intact (thankfully). You had jumped into the fighting ground and flew into Jungkook's arms, who caught you easily. You smiled and squealed like the childish girl you were, pinching his cheeks. "This is my baby everyone! My trainee, mine!"

"You haven't even started training him yet, dumbass!" Yoongi called back.

"Shut up!" you replied, letting Jungkook put you down. "That was amazing kid, really! I'm so excited to tell you everything I know."

Jungkook laughed at that. "You're not at all what I expected an agent to be like."

You rolled your eyes. "I get that a lot. Where'd you learn moves like that anyway? I fought for CIA, FBI, and MI5 and I still didn't beat you!"

"Underground boxing, dad in the military who taught me a few moves, and later on I moved on to the black market. Shady business like that gives you a lot of random fights, and some fight dirty."

"Well I look forward to working with you, Agent Z!" you beamed happily.

It was a few years after that when you got the news that would change your life forever.

"Agent Q, I want you to be leading this mission. There's an unknown form of extraterrestrial beings that have landed on Earth- unlike anything we've ever seen before. I want you and seven others to go out and check on the premises and see these extraterrestrial. We don't know what they're capable of, and can't take chances. I picked the top eight agents in the business. You, Agent A, B, C, D, P, V, and Z."

You had led missions before, sure. But this was unusual. Nothing of this caliber had ever happened, and it shocked you to your very core. New lifeforms? You had only known the species that already resided on this Earth, never before anything new. Also, so many agents? At most, there were three, perhaps five if there was a need for backup. Never eight. Your agency knew to conserve numbers just in case, not wanting to lose too many.

You looked to the Head of Board. "Are you sure you want to send this many agents?"

"We need our very best, and I believe you eight can get the job done. If you can't do it, no one can. You'll be expected to depart in the morning."

"Understood."

[ofsinnersandsaints]

somewhere to belong

rating: T word count total: 21,307 multi-chapter, completed

ao3

modern au fluff including but not limited to: college!jester, fjord as the hot neighbor, caduceus and beau as the best roommates and jester fulling expecting to fall in love with the guy next door but not realizing it would feel quite like this

Jester fell asleep shortly after Princess Bride ended, and Fjord maneuvered himself out from under her and started cleaning up. He found his phone and texted Beau to let her know where her roommate was and then went to bed.

He was exhausted enough he went right to sleep but woke up a few hours later; fisherman’s hours were a habit he still hadn’t managed to break. Or maybe he just hadn’t tried.

Getting up, Fjord made coffee and stepped out onto his back deck to take a picture of the sunrise he could see coming up over the woods and hills. It was odd how quickly he’d gotten back into the habit of taking pictures. If he had to put words to it, which he couldn’t help but do out here in this quiet morning, he’d say he was slowly coming back to life.

“Jessie still asleep?”

Fjord looked over and saw Beau standing on her side of the fence. “Yeah.”

“She’s a late sleeper, so she’ll be out for a while.” Beau looked down at the fence then back at Fjord. “Can I come over?”

“Sure, you want some coffee?”

“I’d love some. I take it black.” Beau climbed over the fence and by the time he’d poured another cup of coffee for her she was on his porch. She took a cautious sip before looking at him, eyes wide. “Shit, this is good.”

“I’m not a snob about most things, but I’m picky about my coffee.”

Beau nodded and settled on the porch steps with her mug and Fjord sat down next to her since he figured that’s what he was supposed to do. For a minute or two they just sat there, watching the sun rise, and he wondered why she was hanging out with him when she likely had a run to get on with, or a workout to start.

But she seemed content to just sit there with him, until she was halfway through her coffee when she let out a heavy breath. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“What?”

She smirked down at the coffee, as if she couldn’t quite make herself look at him. “Learning how to care about people.”

Fjord stared at her for a long moment before swearing under his breath. “She got you too, huh?”

Beau laughed, but she kept the sound quiet. “Yeah. She was looking for roommates when we met, and I wasn’t sure about her at first, but when it comes to Jester it’s hard to look away.”

He resisted the urge to look back at the house, but he didn’t need to. When he’d gotten up he’d seen her stretched out on the couch, hair covering her face, talking quietly in her sleep. It was a mental picture he’d keep close for a while. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“You seem like a pretty decent guy so I’m not going to insult either of us by telling you not to hurt her, but you should know she was crazy isolated as a kid. Her mom loves her, there’s no doubt about it, but she was a little overprotective so Jester didn’t have the kind of upbringing either of us had.”

He didn’t quite the put the pieces together, and Beau was happy to fill in the blanks when he obviously didn’t catch on to what she was saying. “She hasn’t dated much.”

“Oh.”

“So you know-“

“I haven’t either,” he interrupted her, feeling himself heat at the admission. “Dated much, I mean. I spent most of my life on a boat, and I didn’t swing the way of fellow sailors, so my chances at dating were pretty limited.”

He thought about how awkward he’d always felt around the opposite sex; how it constantly seemed as if there were rules he didn’t know about that everyone else had already learned. It had always been easier to avoid the situation altogether than to stumble along, trying to pretend like he knew what he was doing. “Jester’s the first time in a while I wanted to risk looking like an idiot for someone.”

“Fuck,” Beau laughed, finishing off the coffee. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

Fjord smiled, enjoying the idea even though he knew it wasn’t true. He’d learned a few years back some people fit together, they weren’t made for each other, and there was a world of difference between those two thoughts. “What about you? You got someone you’re willing to look like an idiot for?”

She snorted and he was amused, felt a friendship slide into place at the sound. “Absolutely not. I’m not the relationship type. I like women, don’t get me wrong, I love women - but I’ve tried over and over to make relationships work and it’s like putting on a shoe that’s too tight. Doesn’t work and people end up hurt.”

Fjord rolled over the answer in his head, “What about Yasha?”

Beau sighed, half a century’s worth of longing in the sound. “Yasha’s all about commitment. She was married once before and her wife died, it’s all pretty fucking tragic, and I think if she ever moved on-big if-she’d want something equally invested in forever. I’d hate to date her and figure out it didn’t work for me and hurt her all over again.”

“That’s a pretty shitty situation.”

“Yeah, but if I’m not making things complicated, what am I doing?” she teased, her voice filled with self-deprecation and humor. “I’m going to go running, thanks for the coffee.”

“Sure, anytime.”

“And whenever you’re ready to join me just let me know,” she said as she stood up, handing the mug back to him. “Be happy, Fjord.”

“Be happy, Beau.”

Fjord sat out there for a minute more, watched as the sun finished rising over his backyard, the golden light painting everything it touched.

Be happy.

It should have been a simple suggestion, but there was a part of him which was terrified by the idea. Being happy meant it could be taken away, and he’d learned the hard what that felt like.

The boat, Vandran, even Sabian had been part of his happy, and then they’d all been brutally taken away without notice. But looking back at everything, he wouldn’t trade the days he’d had in order to erase the heartache he lived with now.

And he knew without thinking, in the place where he held what little faith he had, that he’d risk every measure of heartache to be happy with Jester for another day longer.

If she was ripped away from him, he didn’t want to look back with regret that he hadn’t loved her enough while he had her.

“Be happy,” he repeated to himself.

Getting up, he made the decision to be exactly that.

Jester woke up in a bed, which was weird because she hadn’t fallen asleep in a bed.

She’d fallen asleep on Fjord.

Opening her eyes, she looked around the room. It was simple. The headboard looked like it was made from driftwood, there wasn’t any art on the walls, but there was a windchime made from seashells at the open window. She stared at it, enjoying the soft sounds coming from it.

She pictured Fjord doing the same thing each morning and wondered if he’d used the sound to remind him he wasn’t on the boat when he woke up from nightmares. Jester doubted fishermen had windchimes on boats.

Still in her pajamas from the night before she pulled back the blankets and had a realization. Looking at the other side of the bed she noticed the blankets were still in place.

Jester wondered how long she’d been sleeping there and if the cowboy had thrown his back out sleeping on the couch. She hoped not.

Padding her way through the house she used the bathroom and then followed the smell of something good to the kitchen.

Her hand shot to her heart as she looked at the spread on the kitchen table. Fjord must have been cooking for hours because there were pancakes and waffles and cinnamon rolls covering nearly every inch of the kitchen table along with bacon and sausage.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat.”

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice; for the first time he’d gotten the jump on her.

Spinning around to look at him she knew there were a dozen hearts in her eyes. “You did this?”

“Well, the cinnamon rolls were from a can, but everything else, yeah.”

Jester turned back to the food, feeling absurdly teary eyed at the gesture. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Awful full of yourself, aren’t you,” he teased. “To just assume I did it for you.”

She laughed and moved to inspect the food closer, already trying to figure out how much she could eat. Did he cover those strawberries in sugar? Because they were always better when-Fjord grabbed her as she stepped away from him, his hand closing around her arm.

“Hold up,” he drawled. “I know it’s going to be hard keeping your attention when there’s a fuck-ton of sugar in front of you, but I want to say something first.”

Jester turned around, putting her back to the kitchen table, and got her first real look of Fjord. He seemed a little tired but there was something about him which made her think of a leaf floating down a quiet river. Peaceful.

“What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Jester. Everything’s fine.” He shifted on his feet and after a moment he took both of her hands in his and her heart stuttered before flinging itself of a cliff.

Oh shit, oh god, oh shit. It was happening.

“Do we have to do this now?” she asked, and then saw the immediate confusion on his face and stumbled over her words to clarify. “I just woke up. I have morning breath. I don’t know what my hair looks like. This is not how I pictured this happening.”

“You pictured this?” he asked, his smile was soft and affectionate, and she liked the fact he didn’t seem particularly mad or frustrated she’d just hijacked his profession. “For how long exactly?”

“At least three months,” she answered honestly because what was the point of lying?

He laughed and tugged her closer, his arms coming around her waist, and for the first time in her life she wished she was a little taller so she wasn’t looking so far up at him. “We haven’t known each other for the three months.”

She snorted, “As if reality has ever stopped me from daydreaming something. I saw you, I don’t remember what day it was or anything, but I was coming into the house and you must have just picked up wood for the boat because you were unloading two by fours from your truck. Sadly, you were wearing a shirt, but it was still very hot.”

“I don’t remember the first time I saw you.”

Jester shrugged. “There was no reason for you to have seen me, but I saw you, and I was constantly thinking about the handsome man next door and who he was, what he was doing, why he always seemed to be home. I thought you might be a bank robber.”

“I’ve never been that cool in my life.”

She smiled and figured she’d have plenty of time to convince him of how cool he was. “I thought about how we’d meet, how you’d instantly want me, and how you’d express you’re undying love and devotion. There would be sunflowers.”

“Well, I hope pancakes will do.”

“Are you kidding?” she nearly hopped from one foot to another, there was so much excitement in her body. “Pancakes are better than anything I could have thought of.”

“Jester,” he shook his head. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Finally,” she whispered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down to her.

Technically, he didn’t kiss her. Instead, they kissed each other, meeting somewhere in the middle.

Fjord pulled her in close and she loved the feeling of his body pressed against hers, of his hands on her back. She ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair as tongue pressed against her lips, she opened for him as she settled her hands on his shoulders.

“Hold on,” Jester pulled back, just a little breathless. “I’m too short for this.”

Jester looked around the room and moved to the long cabinet, pressing her back against it. “There, now I won’t be balanced on my tip-toes.”

Fjord bent a little to adjust to her height, and she briefly thought about how the difference wouldn’t matter if they were in bed together, and kissed her again.

And again and again.

His hands were greedier than she would have anticipated, and he kissed like- well, she didn’t have a lot of experience for comparison, but he kissed like he craved her, which was all that really mattered.

“Are my roommates going to call the police because they think I’ve been kidnapped?” Jester asked because she needed to catch her breath and also because she couldn’t decide whether to strip down or eat breakfast.

It was a tough call.

“I texted Beau last night, and again when I heard you get up. I told her I’d text in a half hour and she said she would be very disappointed in both of us if it didn’t take us at least 45 minutes.”

Jester laughed and wrapped her arms around his middle, loving how passion should ease so subtly into friendship. “She’s a classy lady, my friend.”

He leaned down, surely to kiss her again, but Jester stopped him halfway with a hand on his chest. “Not that I don’t very much want to continue along that avenue, but if my memory serves me correctly you told me you had something you wanted to say and while you’re mouth has been doing some excellent things, it hasn’t been saying anything.”

His smile was crooked, like he’d been caught at something. “Fair enough. Why don’t we eat while we talk? Less chance of us getting…distracted.”

“Fair deal,” she took his hand and led him to the table, sitting next to him as they each filled up their plates. He took most of the meat, she took most of the sugar, and there was something about that which made her smile because it was right. She couldn’t have explained it with words, but it was like two pictures meant to hang next to each other finally on the same wall.

“I know this is going to come as a surprise, but I like you Jester, a lot.”

She looked up from the waffles, pretending to be shocked. “What?! You do?!”

Fjord laughed and took a bite of his waffle. “I’m still a mess, and that’s not going to stop anytime soon, but I don’t want to miss out on something with you because I’m trying to be good enough.”

Jester’s face softened; she knew when to tease, and she knew when to be serious. “I don’t like that you think you’re not good enough, Fjord.”

He moved his shoulders like he was trying to adjust the weight on them. “Maybe that’s not the right way to phrase it because I don’t think I’m a bad guy. I guess a better way to put it is-well, I guess my living room.”

She wanted to press him, but she kept herself busy with the food while he found the right words. Everything he’d made was surprisingly good, she’d have to figure out Fjord’s favorite food so she could cook for him next time.

It had been a long time since she’d tried to cook anything, but she’d try for him.

“I’d planned on painting it by myself, it never occurred to me to ask for help. Ever since the ship went down that’s how I’ve done everything; on my own. It’s knee jerk at this point, and it’s going to take some effort to remember to reach out and that’s kind of how it is figuring out how to get back to living. My instinct is to go it alone, but it doesn’t work like that. I need you. And I’d like to have Cad and Beau in my life too.”

“I hope you don’t plan on making out with them too,” she couldn’t help but tease.

“I very much doubt Beau would let me survive that,” he replied dryly, his mouth quirking up at the ends. “This is all a very long-winded way of saying I want you in my life, but I’m out of practice having people in my life. So, if you’re up for it, I’d really like to take you out on a proper date.”

Jester picked up a strawberry and nibbled on it to give herself time to think. “You know about my mama, and I think you understand more about me than most people I know. You get me. And I like to think I get you too.”

He nodded and she felt encouraged to keep going. “I know you’re smarter than you think, and stronger than you realize. I know you’re super hot, and have a really great smile.”

Fjord pressed his lips together as if to keep himself from smiling, but he couldn’t do anything about the blush covering his cheeks, which thrilled her. She’d like to spend the rest of her life making Fjord blush. “And I don’t go care about the mess in your head, or the baggage you think you have. We all have baggage, it’s just looks different when it’s ours.”

She scooted her chair closer to his, not caring about the scraping noise it made on the wood floor. “And that’s all a very long-winded way of saying yes, I’d like to go on a date with you.”

“Tonight?”

Jester nodded and took a bite of a strawberry so she wouldn’t kiss him again. “Tonight.”

“I don’t understand why you’re not at your house bugging Jester,” Fjord said to Beau as he finished buttoning up his shirt. She was sitting cross legged on his bed, wearing a baggy sweatshirt and cuffed workout pants with flipflops.

It was an interesting look.

“Jester’s way more confident about this stuff than you, so I figured you’d need me more.”

“Thanks?”

He sat down next to her so he could put on his shoes while she fiddled with her hair. “Cad’s over there,” she added as she tugged out the hair tie and her hair fell down to her shoulders. He was surprised at how long it was and realized it was the first time he’d ever seen it down. “He’s a calmer presence than me and when Jester gets wound up he’s better at soothing.”

Fjord laughed. “You’re not soothing? Color me shocked.”

She flipped him off. “Where are you going?”

“I have plans,” he evaded. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But how do you know it’s a good idea if I don’t tell you it’s a good idea,” she pressed. “That’s a nice flannel, can I have it?”

Fjord followed her gaze and saw the blue plaid shirt on his chair. “No.”

“Rude.” She rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee. “You going to do it?”

The heat raced up the back of his neck, but he was too shocked to truly be embarrassed. “For fuck’s sake, Beau.”

“I’m just saying, you have to prepare for that kind of thing, you know. Do you have condoms?”

He shook his head and grabbed her arm, pulling her off the bed so she was standing next to it. “Okay, time for you to go.”

“I was just trying to be helpful,” and Fjord completely believed she was trying to be helpful. The problem was she was the exact opposite, so he dragged her across the front yard to her door and opened it.

Jester was standing in the living room, presumably talking to Cad who was in front of her, and they both turned as he and Beau walked in.

“Fjord?” Jester asked, obviously confused at his sudden presence in her house. “Are you picking me up for our date?”

“Nope, I’m just returning your friend. Please keep her here.”

“Fuck you, Fjord!” Beau yelled through the door as he shut it behind him, but she didn’t sound particularly angry so he figured she was good.

Back in his own house he grabbed his phone, his wallet, resisted the urge to check himself in the mirror, and then picked up his keys. On the way out he grabbed what he’d need for the date and got into his truck.

It may be dumb to drive next door, but he was a gentleman and it seemed ridiculous to walk over to her house just to walk her back to his to get into the car.

Whatever, good guys picked up the girl and knocked on her door which is what he did when he was standing in front of her house for the second time in five minutes.

Caduceus opened the door with a smile. “We’ve given Beau a protein shake, so she should be good for a while. Jester! You have a gentleman caller!”

Fjord muttered a curse under his breath but his mild aggravation at his new group of friends was offset by his amusement of them.

Jester popped out from the back of the house and he got his first good look at her; she wore high heels and a dark pink dress with a smile that stretched for miles.

She was easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back, grabbing her purse from the chair. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he answered, but didn’t move as she walked towards him. Fjord waited until she was directly in front of him before telling her, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” and he thought he saw the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks. “If we don’t go now Caduceus or Beau will be weird.”

“Don’t worry, they’ve both already covered that.” He held out his hand to her and she accepted it, threading her fingers through his. “Bye guys!”

“Don’t wait up,” Jester hollered over her shoulder as they walked out the front door. “So, where are we going?”

“Surprise.”

“I love surprises!” she reacted, pure glee in her voice as he helped her into his truck. “As long as the surprise isn’t murder.”

Fjord laughed as he put the vehicle into drive. “You hear from your ma today?”

“Yeah, she’s doing good right now. I told her I was going on a date.”

“Yeah? How’d that go.”

“Pretty good. I thought she’d freak out, because she just asked for a picture of you and said you’re very handsome and have kind eyes.”

“That was nice of her.” He put his hand out between them and Jester took it, holding it on her lap. “I’d like to meet her.”

“She’d like to meet you too. I’ll figure out a good time.”

They kept on talking for the short drive to the beach and he watched Jester’s face light up as she realized where they were heading. “The beach?”

“Supposed to be a nice night,” he answered, hoping this was a good idea. He backed up into the parking spot so the bed of his truck was facing out towards the sunset and the horizon. “Come on.”

He met Jester at the back of the truck and when she would have headed towards the sand, he stopped her by grabbing her hand. “Nope, we have to eat first.”

“Eat?”

“You think I’m taking you on a date and not feeding you?” he asked, pulling down the tailgate where he’d previously put a handful of blankets and pillows he’d found around his house. “I thought about eating on the beach but the idea of chewing sand didn’t appeal to me.”

“Well, for fuck’s sake Fjord, how am I supposed to top this?”

Fjord laughed as he put his hands on her hips to lift her onto the blankets where the picnic basket sat not far away. “Why do you have to top this?”

She adjusted herself on the blankets, sitting cross-legged with her dress billowing out around her. “For our second date.”

“We’re taking turns?” he asked, pulling out two bottles from the basket. One beer, the other a container of Kool-Aid.

“It’s only fair. What else do you have in there?”

“What we got here is a real Southern picnic,” and he pulled out potato salad, fried chicken, and a pie. “You have to eat the real food before you get dessert.”

Jester laughed. “You already know me so well.”

The date was perfect.

She was walking down the beach with her hand in Fjord’s, the tide lapping at their feet and the midnight blue sky sparkling with diamonds above them.

Jester wouldn’t call what she was feeling love, but she knew in fifty years she’d be telling her grandkids that this was it, this was the moment she knew Fjord was the one.

Next to her, Fjord knelt down to pick up a seashell and he put it in his pocket so automatically it made her wonder how often he did that. Maybe he had a box tucked away in his closet full of seashells he’d found on a dozen different beaches.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been out here,” he said as he stood up.

It sounded like a confession, so Jester pressed her shoulder against his arm so he knew she was there. “Too hard?”

“Yeah. I haven’t gone out since the accident.”

Jester was surprised. He’d never said anything about going out on the water, but she just figured he was constantly sailing or whatever. “But you’re building a boat.”

He nodded and looked out at the water. “It’s a great way of procrastinating.”

She remembered asking him to take her sailing in the lighting aisle of a hardware store and he’d mentioned she’d be gone by the time he was ready to go out. There was a part of her which wondered if he hadn’t just been talking about the boat being finished.

“You’ll get there.”

He seemed surprised by her confidence. “You think so?”

“I told you, Fjord. You’re stronger than you think. And if you want, Beau, Cad, and I can come with you. If you think it’ll help,” she added with a shrug.

“It might.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” she told him as they started to head back to the car. It was getting cold and neither of them had brought jackets. And because they were good at trading one secret for another, she continued. “I was thinking about looking for my dad.”

He didn’t look surprised and she liked that. “Are you?”

“Ever since you asked Nott about finding people,” she explained with a shrug, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. “I don’t know how much it’ll cost, or where to start, but I want answers.”

“You don’t think Marion will tell you?”

“I think if she was going to, she would have.” It was hard not to be angry at her mother for keeping this from her, but she understood wanting to protect the people she cared about. But she was an adult now, and this was what she wanted. “I’ll have to look through her stuff next time I’m home. I bet she’s got super sexy love letters from him or something.”

Fjord laughed. “You’re just going to snoop through her stuff?”

“Yeah!” and she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it. “If she’s not going to tell me, I’m going to figure it out for myself. Are you going to take me home tonight?”

She giggled as he stumbled in the sand. “To my house you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Uh. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“I have.”

“You have?”

“Oh, yeah.”

How could she not have thought about it? She was a red-blooded, straight female. Of course she’d looked at Fjord across the fence and wondered what it would be like to have his weight on her. And once she’d met him? All she could think about was what his voice would sound like while they had sex, what those calloused hands would feel like on her skin.

It was wildly inappropriate how much she’d thought about him naked, and one day she’d tell him about every fantasy she’d ever had.

“But it’s cool if you don’t want to tonight,” she assured him. “I just wanted to let you know whenever you’re interested, I’m interested.”

“I uh, don’t have much in the way of experience in those matters.”

“You mean fucking? Yeah, me neither, but I think we could figure it out together. We’re already pretty good at kissing.”

Fjord nodded as he pulled her close as if he wanted to prove her point; he kissed her with the sound of the ocean in the background, the salty breeze moving around them.

It was soft and warm and lit something inside of Jester which spread through every limb so she could feel it in her toes and fingertips. Maybe most people would have described it as a fire, but to her it was more like sliding into a hot bath after spending hours outside in the cold.

When she pulled back she looked up at Fjord, and saw a dozen thoughts in his eyes. “You’re thinking awful loud over there.”

As he looked at her it was as if she could feel everything he felt, and it nearly overwhelmed her with its intensity.

He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer but after a few moments he let out a sigh as if it was the first deep breath he’d taken in years. “I was just thinking, it feels really good to be home.”

Jester thought about his arms around her, her chest pressed against his as the smell of the ocean drifted around them. The world felt so big, and at the same time impossibly small with the ocean stretched out for days in front of them. She smiled up at him, because when she told this story in fifty years it wasn’t just going to be the day she knew Fjord was it for her…

It was the day she knew she’d never anyone the way she loved him.

“I know what you mean," and she kissed him again.

[smokehqs]

WALDEN MACNAIR

Occupation: Executioner Age: 25 Gender: Male Blood status: Pureblood Allegiance: Death Eaters Faceclaim: Gavin Leatherwood

You held influence even within a family known for twisting others to their whim, possessing a charm that leads lambs to slaughter. No one is sure where your skill comes from, but it keeps people wanting more even if there’s only cruelty behind your eyes. You’re too involved in the blood and the screams that come with being a death eater to understand how dark your actions are, but even if you did, you wouldn’t care. You would do anything to satisfy that burning need with you to spark outrage, to spark fear in everyone around you so that you can feed on their terror.

HISTORY:

Walden was a prince from the moment he entered this world. To say he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth would be misleading, because the spoon was gold. His mother and father would’ve never settled for less. He was their first, their oldest child, the heir to the MacNair dynasty, and he was going to be perfect.

Thankfully, as Walden grew older, their dreams came true. From when Walden took his first steps to the time he cast his first spell, he never disappointed them. He was their perfect boy in every way and that would continue for many years to come.

When Walden started at Hogwarts, he was sorted into Slytherin, as expected. There, he connected with pureblood family friends that he’d known from private life, as well as made new friends. He seemed exceptionally good at making new friends. Even those in other houses, students who should’ve hated him for his family and their views, seemed to like him. When he walked up to you, stared into your eyes, and flashed his smile, it was almost impossible to say no.

The rest of Walden’s time at Hogwarts went just as smoothly. He and his friends had a penchant for getting into trouble and allegedly performing dark magic, but somehow it always ended up being the other student’s word against his and his word always won. Though there were areas where he felt his classes lacked, Walden loved the rest of his school experience. He loved being in Slytherin, living in the legacy of those who came before him in what was the greatest house. And whatever his classes failed to teach him, he could learn at home through independent study or private tutors.

His parents were extremely supportive when he came forward about his passion for the dark arts; it was something he was incredibly thankful for. When he had brought it up during Christmas Break of his first year that he felt his classes were going to lack the prerequisite material to support the area he wanted to specialize in, the dark arts, his parents couldn’t have been prouder. They immediately praised him and reassured him that whatever he needed, they would provide for him. They would teach him everything they knew and unconditionally support his aims if he wanted to fly higher. His achievements would only bring greater glory to the MacNair name, so who were they to stop him.

The war started during Walden’s fifth year at Hogwarts, and since the very first spell was cast he itched to be a part of the action. There was only so much he could learn about dark magic in theory and secret practice. To actually get to use it to its full potential? To get to unleash the curses he’d created on actual opponents in the thick of battle instead of animals hidden in the shadows? That was the dream. In his last two years at Hogwarts, he did get to partially live out his dream when he was visiting home, but cursing already captured targets wasn’t the same. They couldn’t cast spells back at him and the muggles ones couldn’t fight back at all; there was no risk to make the reward sweeter. The moment hope faded from their eyes as they realized they were doomed to lose - he never got to see it because their hope had already been taken away. It vanished when they were captured and chained up, and with it vanished part of the satisfaction he got from a kill.

Within a week of graduating, Walden had the dark mark emblazoned on his arm. Some felt squeamish about getting their mark; it was a permanent dedication to very strong ideals. Walden, however, loved it. For him, it was a constant physical reminder that he was now a part of the fight. Even when it was hidden, he knew it was there, and just knowing that gave him extra verve.

For several years Walden fought and relished in every second of it. He took a special kind of joy with each curse he cast and every time he struck fear into someone’s heart. As he gained power and practice, he noticed that fear began to dwell even in the hearts of his allies as well. It wasn’t something he originally aimed for, but after he noticed it, he couldn’t help but take pride in that too. Though it had a different note to it, he viewed the fear as existing in the same vein as respect.

Almost everything was perfect in Walden’s life, but there was one aspect that frustrated him, his public image. Despite being proud of what he did, he knew for legal and image reasons, most of the carnage he took joy in had to be kept in the shadows. His parents were proud of him, his friends revered him, but the law did not condone the torture and murder that he had begun to make a career out of. When he walked down the street, his capabilities were only rumours, and some didn’t believe that he was capable of killing anyone at all. The people who didn’t think him capable of murder were mostly those from out of town who hadn’t attended school with him and only knew his family from the social column in the paper, but it still bothered him. He was strong and ambitious and a force to be reckoned with, and he wanted everyone to know it. It wasn’t something he just did on weekends, it was his career, and so he decided to publicly make killing his career by becoming an executioner.

His parents weren’t thrilled with his decision, but after a couple of charming conversations over dinner, they came around, just like everyone always did. Prior to starting, Walden had some reservations about the position, which was rare for him. He wasn’t sure what it would be like, to kill without any foreplay. Or, if God forbid, they resigned him to killing animals. How dull would that be?

All of his concerns vanished after his first day. The lovely lady who greeted him at the Ministry Offices sat him down and talked him through the whole process. She explained how the Ministry was aware that it was a difficult and taxing job, that being an executioner asked a lot of the people who filled the position, and that if he ever had any questions or concerns, or if he ever needed support, he could come to her. She disclosed that because of the stresses of the job, they often eased in newcomers by assigning them animals first. It would of course not be expected of him to kill any witches or wizards until he had years of experience under his belt. The entire time she spoke, Walden sat comfortably, nodded, and smiled. When she was done, he began working his wandless magic. Within half an hour he convinced the administrative witch that she should let him skip over killing animals and immediately step into the role of Senior Executioner. He persuaded her that it was a way for him, as a member of the MacNair family, to give back to the English wizarding community - that it was only right he took on a larger load so that others didn’t have to. He assured her that he understood it was a difficult and taxing job, and promised that he would reach out to her for any support he needed. His first execution was booked for later that week.

When Walden brought the axe down, with it he brought a new beginning for himself. They had him use an axe rather than his wand at the beginning, because to the best of their knowledge, he had never cast the killing curse before, and would need some practice before he was consistent enough to use it in executions. But Walden found it didn’t matter. Whether it was swinging an axe or flicking his wrist, the passion and joy he felt were nearly the same. The excitement he received from torturous foreplay was replaced by the same butterflies a child feels when stealing cookies from the jar in the kitchen. He was getting away with murder, right in front of everyone. He almost felt guilty accepting his first paycheck, but guilt wasn’t a feeling he was capable of.

After word got around about his new profession, the looks Walden received began to change. When he entered a room, bustling conversation often dulled or ceased altogether.

He no longer heard whispers of doubt surrounding whether or not he lived up to the rumours attached to his name. There was a range of reactions, spanning from subdued panic to reverence to attraction, but his favourite were those who, when he looked at them, he saw fear in their eyes, yet they were unable to look away.

For Walden, another perk of being an executioner was the amount of time off they received. Meant to relieve the mental taxation that came with the territory, Walden often used the time as a chance to catch up with family and friends, and to carry out Death Eater related business. Though most Death Eater business had him travel around the United Kingdom, sometimes the assignments sent him elsewhere, once even to the United States.

Walden, of course, had no idea before he left, but his visit to the United States would change his life forever. The job he and his partner had been tasked with was simple enough, and they finished it with time to spare. With that extra time before they were expected home, they decided to explore and have a bit of fun. Despite the near-limitless freedom to travel that his family’s fortune afforded him, Walden had never really visited the United States before. He’d been once or twice with his family, but those were quick social visits to family friends that he didn’t really count as visiting the United States. On those trips, he never had the chance to roam around, to see what the country had to offer, or to meet any of the amazing, beautiful people that lived there.

Their assignment hadn’t been far from Washington DC, so that’s where they decided to explore first. They didn’t end up exploring anywhere else, because while there, serendipity struck in a coffee shop. As Walden entered and scanned the room, he saw a woman who was possibly the most beautiful witch he’d ever laid eyes on. Without even ordering, he went over and introduced himself. It didn’t go as quite as smoothly as normal, she seemed to somehow be resistant to his initial charm, but she soon became as enchanted with him as he was with her.

Daisy was a witch unlike any Walden had met before. Though there were many witches in his life that went against the grain, Daisy was strong and independent in a way no one else he had ever met was. She was creative and driven, pursuing fields abnormal for a pureblood witch to pursue. He found the way she saw the world new and intriguing, and it made him see the world in a different way too. Her views on muggles - or nomajs - were subversive to everything he was taught growing up, and though they didn’t change his own beliefs, he admired her for it. In his mind, the wizarding world was still clearly superior, but he now knew there was far more to the muggle world than he’d previously thought. The night after he met her, he went back to his hotel room and devoured her book in almost one sitting. She was unafraid to challenge what society accepted and was bold and proud of her convictions, and it made Walden fall for her.

As the time came for him and his partner to leave, Walden felt a pit well up in his chest. He knew there was no way he could go back to England without her without regretting it for the rest of his life. So, Walden found himself proposing and whisking Daisy away back to England, as they were two leads plucked from a romantic fairytale.

When the newly engaged couple arrived, they were met with a mix of congratulation and disdain. For the first time in his life, Walden failed to live up to his parents’ expectations. Though he intended to marry an accomplished, pureblood witch, her area of expertise and sympathy for muggles made her almost as despicable as a blood traitor in the eyes of his family. Smiles and a cold welcome awaited Walden and Daisy the first time they stepped foot inside the MacNair Estate. Everyone played nice in the beginning, but Walden was quickly pulled aside by his mother and given an explicit, pointed explanation of why they disapproved of his chosen bride. However, despite his mother’s loathing and his father’s disappointment, Walden stood his ground.

Walden’s love for Daisy was unlike any romance he’d had before. For the first time in his life, Walden valued something possibly more than acquiring power and murder. He of course still strove to be one of the greatest dark wizards who ever lived, but now his devotion was divided. He still gleaned pleasure watching the light fade from his victims’ eyes, but now he also found happiness in seeing Daisy smile. Nights he previously would’ve spent creating a new curse or toying with a captured plaything in the basement, he now desired to spend curled up with his amazing fiancée. Her conviction drove him to aim higher in his own work, but his love for her also made him care about more than just his career.

As the wedding approached, Walden’s family took a step back. From the beginning, Walden made it clear that this was the woman he intended to marry, and there was no changing his mind. Abjection and scolding only made him angry, and it was a side of him they knew that if pushed too far, became deadly, no exceptions. And so they backed off, at least from Walden. His mother no longer pulled him aside to voice her disagreement and his father stopped trying to dissuade his son by casually dropping the names of more appropriate suitors. However, that didn’t mean they felt any differently. Behind Walden’s back, his parents continued to treat Daisy with disdain, or on their nicer days, disregard.

His wedding day was everything he could’ve hoped for. As Daisy walked down the aisle in her lace dress, Walden thought nothing could matter to him more. That was, until Estrella was born. With Estrella’s birth, their perfect marriage became the perfect little family, and once again, Walden’s devotions were divided.

Walden would do anything to protect Estrella and Daisy, but he doesn’t realize the precarious situation he’s put them in. In his eyes, with each flick of his wrist and swing of his axe, he gains more power and there is no downside. Sure, he’s created enemies, but with more power he’s only better able to protect them. Anyone who would dare lay a hand on them would have to face him, as judge, jury, and executioner, and who would dare do that?

CONNECTIONS:

Bellatrix Lestrange: Hogwarts friend

Lucius Malfoy: Seen jealously by

Alecto & Amycus Carrow: Becoming close with

Mirek Yaxley: Used to date

Daisy MacNair: Married

Zahi Shafiq: Old friends

Jandira Santiago: Considering recruiting

Ewan Holmes: Former friends

CLOSED · PENNED BY STEPH

[let-me-be-your-comet]

Happy birthday, Wonderful Wonderful!

Ohhh Wonderful Wonderful, the most appropriately named Killers album, my most favorite...how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

This album just has such a ridiculous level of care and love put into it, it practically bleeds for you, and it really lays Brandon's soul out there for all to see as the lyric writer. It was written as a means of processing something that Brandon had kept secret for years - his wife's struggles with post-traumatic stress and depression, which had just culminated in suicidal ideation before the band reconvened to write this album. Every single song is so cohesive, lyrically and thematically - it is truly an absolute masterpiece of cohesion, a real work of art. Wonderful Wonderful tells a story from start to finish in a way that no other Killers album to date has achieved so successfully, and it's just absolutely gorgeous.

The order of the tracklisting is so very critical in Wonderful Wonderful. It begins with the title track, which sets the stage for the album and discloses its inspiration. It seems to be written from twin perspectives - that of Brandon, as a husband trying to guide and support his wife through struggles, and that of God doing the same.

It's perhaps the most overtly religiously evocative of their songs, which is quite interesting and perhaps indicative of how much they've both leaned on their faith in the last several years as they have struggled with mental health. There is a lot of clever word play couched between the purposeful, biblical language: "Stay on the path that leads to the well - there are many, take the one that leads to the well." Brandon used a drought to symbolize his wife's life throughout the album, continuing into the album art and the stage production. Water symbolizes hope, as it comes to wash out the bad and begin anew. This line, on the surface, calls back to that theme - you're in the midst of a drought, but there is water if you head to the well.

But it has a dual meaning and is also meant to speak to illness vs. health - she is ill, and there are many ways that her story could go, but he is asking her to take the one that leads to wellness. Towards the end, Brandon gets a little more assertive about it - "my arm is reached out, I am here. I'll crush every doubt and every fear, clothesline the shame and you will answer to the rain." He'll be there to support her, if she will confide in him and trust him - he'll help her through the shame and stigma of mental illness, crush the negative feelings and make room for hope instead. This song references that drought/water theme for the first time and tells his wife not to give up hope that things will get better ("Don't you listen to the never; keep praying for rain").

The second track is The Man, which Brandon has said is a kind of last hurrah with his younger, more naïve self. It pokes fun at his perception of what it meant to be a man when he was young and dumb - "Nothing can break me down, don't need no advice - I got a plan." He has said that in the process of writing the album, he realized that his idea of 'being a man' has changed, from a sort of macho, arrogant bread winner to realizing that it's really all about empathy and compassion and trying to be a good person - and the rest of the album puts his new perception of 'manliness' on full display.

Rut and Life to Come are the gatekeepers of this new, empathetic outlook - such a beautiful exercise in the empathy and compassion that he is so proud of cultivating. He wrote Rut from his wife's perspective, trying to get inside her head and understand what she was feeling - without knowing the problem, there can be no solution. He does a beautiful job of portraying the struggle of mental illness, and writes in a way that is not necessarily specific to PTSD - it is versatile enough for the listener to apply the message to any range of struggles or mental illnesses.

"Don't give up on me, 'cause I'm just in a rut - I'm climbing but the walls keep stacking up." The opening lines set the stage so perfectly for the concept of the song, which climaxes in a long, hopeful bridge of "I'll climb and I'll climb" - one that almost goes on too long and in doing so exemplifies the difficult, lengthy battle of recovery from illness.

Life to Come is the sibling of Rut; the very next track is a direct response to its predecessor and this time, we hear Brandon's immediate response to Tana's confession in Rut: "I didn't see this coming, I admit it, but if you think I'll buckle, forget it. I told you that I'd be the one, I'll be there in the life to come." It is a little more raw, less polished than the other tracks on the album. There are moments where his voice is shaky or slightly off-key, perhaps left in on purpose to show the depth of the emotion and conviction that went into this song. The entire track professes his support for her and his belief that she shouldn't feel ashamed of her illness; that he's going to help her get through it, because that's what marriage is for: "I know sometimes you think that I regret it, but I don't remember stumblin' when I said it: I told you that I'd be the one. I was talkin' 'bout the life to come."

The fourth track, Run For Cover, flips the script and tells the story of a man who does not believe that empathy and compassion are important, a politician who does not treat his wife as he should. Brandon speaks to the man's wife and tells her to leave him: "Run while you can, baby - don't look back. You gotta run for cover. Don't be afraid of the fear, that's a played out trap, man - you know you're not the only one." He then writes a verse from her perspective, once again putting his empathetic voice into practice: "It's hard to pack the car when all you do is shame us - it's even harder when the dirtbag's famous." Brandon returns once more as a third party narrator ("There was nothing she wouldn't give just to trust him with her nightmares and her dreams - she's running just to trust him. He's got a big smile, he's fake news, just run for cover - you've got nothing left to lose," and again pleading for the wife to leave her 'dirtbag' of a husband who lacks empathy and compassion.

The next track, Tyson vs. Douglas, is yet another exploration of empathy. This time, Brandon puts himself in the shoes of Mike Tyson as he gets knocked out by Buster Douglas during an iconic fight in 1990. "You're used to winning, how did it feel? Did you hear the screaming? It was unreal...you can hit the shower, fill the place up with steam, close the curtains - but when you woke up, man, it wasn't no dream." He then turns the pen on himself and reflects on his children, who view him as an invincible hero, and the inevitability that he himself will eventually 'go down' like his own hero, Mike Tyson, did.

Some Kind of Love was written in the depths of Brandon's writer's block, borne of his attempts to break through to his wife and connect with her. They were both in dark places: she in the midst of a depressive episode, and he was questioning his own ability to write, as his attempts to suppress his marital struggles in his work had resulted in the inability to create anything worth pursuing.

He did something he's never done before here: he wrote over an instrumental track by Brian Eno, desperate to create something and needing a fully realized musical landscape to work with. "You got the will of a wild bird, you got the faith of a child before the world gets in - you've got some kind of love." Here he pleads with his wife to recognize how strong she is - how he sees her, rather than how she saw herself at that time. It ends with a heartfelt call to her, trying to reach her through her depression and push away the suicidal ideation in the way he feels he communicates best - through music: "Can't do this alone, we need you at home. There's so much to see, we know that you're strong - can't do this alone."

The next song, Out of My Mind, is a sort of monument to his marriage and an ode to his wife, acknowledging their struggles but also celebrating their relationship: "We're building up a kingdom, we pray it never falls...but I can't get you out of my mind." He then lists all of his accomplishments trying to impress her, and reiterates how smitten he is with her throughout the song. It's his attempt to move on, past their struggles - it doesn't matter, her fears were unfounded and he still loves her.

The Calling is yet another piece of his quest to be a better person and inspire others to do the same. It's told through the story of a son, a clergyman, trying to lead his father to a better life: "Follow the son out of the night, brother, just lean into the light." Interestingly, Brandon draws on his own father's experience with gambling when representing the father's troubles: "His hands still shake when the ponies break out onto the track, his feet still quake when they say they want their money back."

The final song, Have All the Songs Been Written?, brings the whole album full circle. It brings back the macho figure from The Man, but now his bravado has been lost: The Man is on top of the world and brags about how he's got "gas in the tank, money in the bank," while this man has been brought low and laments "Has all the gas been siphoned? Do the banks still carry gold?"

It tells of Brandon's mindset at the beginning of the creation of this album, while he struggled with writer's block for the first time in his life: "Have all the songs been written? Has all the truth been told? Have all these years been worth it, or am I the great regret?" This song reiterates his desire to connect with his wife in the midst of her depression and his own struggles with communication, and calls back to his journey while writing Some Kind of Love: "Have all the songs been written? I just need one to get through to you...when the ship is back in the harbor, I will make you happy again - I can see it, I believe it."

From top to bottom, Wonderful Wonderful is just such an absolutely stunning piece of work, a real masterpiece of songwriting and a truly wonderful exercise in cohesive writing. Every song is connected and their meanings are subtly interwoven, creating a true album, not only a collection of songs.

Happy birthday to my very favorite Killers album.

[mashafootball]

Hers - Julian Brandt Imagine

Part 1 (Y/N meeting Jannis)   

Part 2 (Y/N meeting Julian’s parents) 

It isn’t necessary to read the first two parts. 

„So, how do you feel? Are you nervous? Because you sure look like it.”, you laughed, staring at your boyfriend, who was fumbling around with the black buttons of his white button-down shirt, seeming a little shaky.

After you already had honor of meeting Julian’s whole family (even the aunts and uncles your boyfriend didn’t even know properly, it was finally time to introduce the blonde footballer to your parents. Even though your mum basically already knew everything about your new-found love and your relationship, she was still ecstatic to finally meet Julian in real life. Your father, a usually very reserved and serious man was also looking forward to meeting the young man his only daughter had fallen head over heels in love with. As Julian was, at least in your opinion, a quite amazing boyfriend, he had nothing to be afraid of. “Stop fidgeting with your shirt, you are making it even more wrinkly.”, you told him, rolling your eyes at his weird behavior. You kind of expected your usually very calm boyfriend to stay a little bit more relaxed. But the way he had paced around in your living room and put on three different outfits before your parents arrived signaled how nervous he was really feeling. And now it seemed like he was dying on your couch.

“Do you think it looks too wrinkly? Should I wear something else? I should have brought the black one.”, Julian had panic written all over his pale face, already getting ready to take the white fabric off his body. “Hey! Say something!”, he urged you as you continued to stare at him rather than answer his question. “Relax. For a second! You are acting far worse than I did. Everything will be fine, you look handsome babe.”, you told him, thinking about the first time you had met his brother Jannis and after some time after that his parents. “Is the shirt too wrinkly?”, he asked again. “No.”

After taking a look at the clock on your living room wall you realized your parents would arrive very soon, Julian already starting to pace around the small room again, hands running up and down his shirt. “Babe.”, you called from the kitchen, getting some more things to set the table with. “Yes?”, he answered soon after, appearing in the kitchen, “Will they be here soon?”, he wondered, following you back into the living room like a lost puppy. “They will probably be here in a few minutes. One thing you should know: They are never, like never ever, late.”, you explained, thinking about all the times your parents had scolded you for arriving even a minute late. There was absolutely nothing they hated as much as other people being late – or god forbid – them not being on time - for once.

When you both heard a fierce knock at your door, Julian suddenly stood up from the sofa, “Oh no.”, he hissed, fingers brushing through his hair, “oh no, no.”, he grimaced, sitting down again. “Relax. You will mess up your hair!”, you demanded, your hands already smoothing his hair down again, trying to fix the mess he had just created on his head. After you managed to make him look like before you stood up and walked off to your entrance door, mentally preparing for your mum’s tight hugs and kisses.

After hugging and kissing your parents hello you let them into the flat, helping with hanging up their jackets. “Julian is really nervous.”, you told them quietly, hoping your boyfriend didn’t hear you. “Such a sweetie.”, you mother smiled softly, taking her shoes off.

As the three of you entered your living Room, Julian immediately got up from the couch, hands brushing over his jeans, walking over to you. “Hi!”, you mum squealed and before Julian could reply anything, she had already pulled him into what seemed like a quite bone-breaking hug. “Mum.”, you whined. “Hello Miss Y/L/N.”, Julian said, and you were pretty sure you had never heard him sound that shy before. You could practically feel his neck turning red and hot. “Hello Mister Y/L/N.”, he turned to your father, shaking his outreached hand. Luckily, your parents both told him to call them by their first names – making both you and Julian relax a little. That was a good sign – especially from your dad.

After finishing the dinner, you had cooked during the whole afternoon, you moved to the couch, each of you with a wine glass in the hand. Julian was loosening up by the minute. While he stayed mainly quiet during your dinner, he started warming up a little when the four of you sat down on the couch. The wine was probably doing its job too. Joking around with your mum, putting his charm to use and talking to your dad about football, who wasn’t really a fan of the Bundesliga, but still very interested in your boyfriend’s profession. As you saw that everyone’s glass was empty, you decided to go back into the kitchen to open another bottle, soon followed by the quiet steps of your mother.

“Everything alright?”, you asked her softly, reaching for the wine in your refrigerator. “I love him.”, she said, squeezing your shoulders, making a grin appear on your face. “I do too.”

(tags: @julianbrandtrelated @holybrandt

[bobasheebaby]

Veiled Memories- Crimson Rain chapter 8

Pairing: Bastien x Liza; Liam x Raven

Word count: 4;670

Warnings: angst, so much angst, hospital setting

Summary: Bastien finds out something he never expected, Emmaline survived, and he has a child. Will his past affect his future?

A/N: @katurrade and @zaffrenotes kept pushing me to do a Mobster AU. Beta’d by my patient husband who is completely hooked. Thanks to @blackcatkita and @stopforamoment for letting me me bounce a few things off of them. @darley1101 requested "You made me feel weak." For Mobster Liam prompt will be bolded. This chapter got away from me and I don’t think there is any break from the pain, sorry! 

Series warnings: Mobster AU, there will be violence, and death. NSFW content to come. Possibly dark. If you ask to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters with the exception of Hope, and Liza, I’m simply borrowing them for a bit.

Present day; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

Bastien stared down at Liza who had cried herself to sleep in his arms. He had never before seen Liza fall apart like he had in the hallway. He worried that she was more broken than he had imagined. He needed to let his own pain of their loss go and just focus on helping her. I wish I could make all your pain go away. He softly smoothed the teal hair from her face, he would do anything to keep the tears from her eyes.

Bastien was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. He moved to silence the phone, not wanting to wake Liza. He saw the Trenton area code and hesitated before pressing answer. He looked down at Liza’s peaceful, sleeping form, torn between leaving her to sleep in peace and answering in the bed. He lifted the phone to his ear, his need to stay close to her winning out. “Hello?”

“You sick son of a bitch!”

“Who is this?” Bastien questioned, trying to keep his voice down as to not wake Liza.

“You failed you know! She survived, they both did.”

Survived? Emmaline! Both? Bastien’s mind raced, she survived, Constantine failed, then why didn’t they know she was alive? How had Constantine managed to conceal the fact that she survived? What did Liam mean by both? She was pregnant? Was it mine? His heart raced, he glanced at Liza’s sleeping form, if his suspicions were correct how would he ever break it to her, explain? “She survived? How? Where is she?”

Harsh laughter filled his ear. “Figures you wouldn’t even ask about your child, your daughter! She survived, she’s been at Royal Pines—”

So it was mine? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Bastien was stunned, he’d had a child all this time and hadn’t known. He felt his heart stop in his chest at the thought of explaining this to Liza. This is going to break her even more. He hated that his weaknesses years ago were now tearing apart the strong vibrant woman he loved. The love he felt for Liza was stronger than any love he’d felt for anyone else before her, he felt like he might not survive if his past actions were to cause him to lose her. He just hoped their live would be strong enough to get them through this.

Twenty years ago; Trenton, New Jersey- Emmaline/Bastien:

It started innocently enough, she felt alone in a world she didn’t belong in. She realized far too late that the man she fell for wasn’t who she thought he was, but some cruel tyrant willing to take things with force. The constant fights with her husband about her son’s training was physically and mentally draining, leaving her feeling hopeless and exhausted.

So many among her husband’s men were cruel and cold. He was one of the few who despite the job seemed to retain kindness and heart. She was as drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was kind to her, and a source of normalcy for the children.

Bastien was playing with fire, what was he thinking flirting with her? She’s the bosses wife for god’s sake! He never should have returned the attention she gave him. There was no good that could come from this, he needed to end it before anything happened, before anyone figured out what was going on.

Something about the forbidden made it exciting, what could go wrong with a little harmless flirting? It’s not like she would act upon it, she knew that would be taking it too far. No that would be far too risky. Nothing wrong with a harmless look, a lingering touch here and there. She would be careful not to get caught.

He knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that though, she occupied his mind. She slowly worked her way into his heart and his mind and he wasn’t sure he could rid himself of her. He found her plaguing his dreams at night and his thoughts while awake.

How he longed to feel her, have her body pressed against his. It was wrong, forbidden, yet he couldn’t get her out of his head, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

She was willing to do almost anything to hold onto that feeling for as long as she could. No she didn’t have a death wish, just for the first time in the last eight years with Constantine she finally felt alive once again.

Ten years ago; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania- Bastien:

“Will you stop being a big baby?” Liza asked, hands on her hips, clearly exasperated.

“I’m not being a baby, I just can’t go with you. Next time, I promise.” Bastien replied.

“Seriously Bas? You’re afraid of my father, admit it!”

“I am not afraid of your father, I simply can’t make it.” Bastien replied, sidestepping the truth. Her father did scare him, only because he knew the last time he had found out she was dating a mobster he had sent her away. He was already developing deep feelings for her, deeper than he ever felt before, even with Emmaline and the thought that her father might make her leave terrified him. She had managed to handle meeting Olivia, and even eventually started to win her over, but what if he was unable to win over her father? They had managed to keep his profession from her father thus far, but meeting him would be another story. Liza was insistent that this time would be different, that he wouldn’t be able to get in between the two of them the way he had in her past relationship, Bastien wasn’t so sure. Never in his life had he ever felt so terrified that something would get in the way of his relationship, keep them apart. He had cared, even loved woman before but something about this time, about her was different. The thought of never seeing her again nearly sent him spiraling into a panic.

Liza rolled her eyes, she knew deep down he was worried about what her father would say about him. “I promise you, nothing he can or will say will stop me from seeing you. He doesn’t control me anymore.”

Bastien blew out a long breath, taking her in. She stood looking so strong and sure, hazel eyes shining bright. Could I ask that of her? Could I allow her turn her back on her family? As deep as his feelings for her were, as much as he cared he didn’t think he could be the reason she lost the remainder of her family. He looked at her, her eyes shining with hope, fuck! He knew he couldn’t say no to her. “Fine, I’ll meet him.” He replied giving in.

“Oh he’s going to love you! You’ll see.” Liza exclaimed wrapping her arms around his neck.

Bastien shook his head as he returned the hug. He wished he could have her confidence. He just hoped he wasn’t marking the end of their relationship.

Present day; Trenton, New Jersey:

“Bas, are you sure we should be here?” Liza asked, nervously twirling her teal hair around her finger. Her stomach was twisted in knots at the thought of seeing the woman he shared a child with. A tear streaked down her cheek, she hastily wiped it away before he saw. Hold it together! Her heart ached even more knowing he already had the thing she failed at giving him. She hated the idea of coming face to face with the person he had a child with, but he wouldn’t leave her side. She knew he was afraid she’d try to leave again if he did, can I even compete with her? She succeeded where I failed. She had been ready to walk away from him but couldn’t bear it if he was the one who walked away from her. She knew she wouldn’t survive the heartbreak of losing him too.

Bastien turned to face her, gently tucking a stray teal strand behind her ear, “Liza, she is my past, you are my present and future. You have nothing to worry about.” He stated, his steel grey eyes boring into her soul like the first day they met.

Liza forced a small smile, she wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t stop the doubt that crept into her heart. This was a woman he had a history with, a child, how could she ever compete? What if he saw her and his feelings for her came rushing back? She felt like she was going to be sick, she couldn’t go in there, see her, this woman he once held like he held her. Did he love her? Am I just a cheap replacement? Did he ever really love me? Could I ever have been enough? Doubt filled her mind, making her wish she had been successful when she tried to escape, if she had gotten away she would be spared the pain of watching him fall back in love with her. She nodded her head and followed him into the lobby and up to reception. Here we go! The sinking feeling in her stomach only growing with each passing second. She felt as though she were willingly walking into the death of their relationship, she’d give anything to go back to the confident woman she once was.

“We’re here to see Emmaline Rhys.” Bastien said, his hands resting against the reception desk.

The receptionist turned to her computer typing in the name. Bastien glanced around the lobby as she spoke on the phone. She was here the entire time, so close.

“Someone will be right with you.” The receptionist said smiling.

“Thank you.” Bastien replied nodding. He turned away from the receptionist waiting for whoever they were sending, hoping some of the questions he had would be answered.

Hope walked down the halls to the lobby. Two visitors for her mother who knew her by name. Her heart raced, maybe this one will have answers. She stopped short as she entered the lobby, it’s him. “Dad?” She gasped surprising herself with her own reaction. She had wondered about him for so long and seeing him she knew, she just hoped she would learn why she had grown up without him.

Bastien turned towards her voice, walking a few tentative steps before pausing, standing frozen in place. It had been two decades since he had seen Emmaline, and nearly as long since he had thought of her, staring at him was a girl who looked exactly like her, except the eyes. Her eyes were the same steel grey he saw staring back at him in the mirror everyday. He was stunned, the call from Liam hadn’t prepared him at all for the young girl in front of him now.

Hope took a hesitant step forward, unsure, she had tried to get Liam to tell her something anything about her father but he refused, seemed infuriated by her questions. She dropped them, not wanting to anger the only family to come forward in the twenty years her mother had been there. Questions gnawed at her mind, his father knew who she was and where she was yet just left her there. She questioned if anything Liam said to her would be true, could she trust anything he said? The moment she saw the man standing in front of her she just knew in her gut that he was her father. The nurses and doctors had always told her she looked just like her mother, but spending as much time as she did just staring at her mother, she started to notice the small subtle differences, ones she now saw mirrored in his face. She always thought her chin was just a bit sharper and her eyes set just a tad closer than her mother’s. And then of course there was the eye color, her mother’s were a deep warm chestnut brown, while hers were always this dark piercing steel grey. The second she set eyes on him all questions about how he could leave them behind escaped her, she was just happy to have someone who might be able to finally fill in the pieces. “I’m Hope, Jane Doe’s, I mean Emmaline’s daughter.” She said her voice shaking slightly as she held out her hand. She couldn’t understand why she was nervous, she had always been an open and outgoing person, finding ease with strangers, but with her father finally standing before her, her stomach was a pit of nervous butterflies.

Bastien gaped at Hope, the emotions overcoming him in that moment overwhelming him. Liza stepped forward, her love for him drawing her to aid him even if she was at the cusp of losing him. “I’m Liza, Bastien’s—” She broke off, a lump forming in her throat, uncertainty of where they stood filling her with doubt. “I’m Liza.” She shook Hope’s hand, trying to give her a convincing smile.

Bastien cleared his throat, coming out of his shocked daze, he couldn’t believe he had a child. His eyes flicked to Liza’s stomach, he could only imagine how impossibly hard this must be for her. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently, reminding her she wasn’t alone. “I’m not sure what Liam told you about your father—”

“Nothing. He refused to tell me anything about him, I mean you.” Hope quickly cut him off. She was becoming more confused about why Liam would want to withhold information about her father. She had thought at first that he wouldn’t talk to her about it because he didn’t know anything, but clearly Bastien, her father felt he would have told her something.

“Maybe we should sit and I can explain what I know.” Bastien responded, gesturing to the sitting area.

They all moved to the large sitting area, finding three seats apart from the rest, slightly more isolated. “Emmaline, your mother was married to Liam’s father, Constantine Rhys—”

“The New Jersey Murder King?” Hope asked. She was starting to see why maybe her brother would not want to speak about her father, why her mother remained unclaimed for so long, she wanted to hear it from him.

Bastien nodded. “Yes. I was working my way up in the family.” Bastien paused trying to determine how to best explain. “Emmaline fell for Constantine, she was happy for awhile, until he started to want to groom Liam for him to take his position. She realized how much of a mistake she had made falling for him. He had been a different person when they met, and slowly showed her who he really was. She hated the life, she wanted more for Liam. By the time she wanted out, we had started a relationship, I’m not proud of it, it was wrong.” He squeezed Liza’s hand, knowing she’d hate the next part the most. “We had fallen in love by that point, when she told me she wanted to escape, I offered to help her, get her and Liam out safely. We would leave together and live together, but she didn’t want my help, she knew what it would mean for me if I turned my back on the family, especially by helping her escape and she didn’t want me to have to live looking over my shoulder, constantly worried that I had been compromised. She insisted she had another way out, and broke things off with me to keep me safe.” Liza slipped her hand from his, Bastien reached for her, but she shrugged him off. His heart clenched knowing his story was the reason for her pulling away. He swallowed harshly before continuing his story. “If she knew about you, she never told me, probably because she knew I wouldn’t let her decline my offer. Constantine found out, either that she was going to escape, or our relationship, I’m not sure which, but he put a hit on her and asked me to kill Emmaline. I refused, and left. I did try to warn her, but she was avoiding me, I had hoped that the person she said would help her would get them out safely. The next I heard she was dead, and Constantine was saying that I had killed her unprovoked. I knew I was innocent, that I wasn’t the one to actually pull the trigger, but if I had insisted on helping she would have survived, I blamed myself and let him spread whatever lies he wanted, because it was my fault. If I hadn’t allowed myself to get involved with her, or I had insisted she come with me none of this would have happened.”

Hope stared at Bastien, her mouth agape. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she never would have expected that. She could have had both of her parents if her mother hadn’t refused his help, hadn’t insisted on leaving on her own. She wasn’t sure how to react to such a bombshell being dropped. “So her shooting wasn’t accidental?” She questioned.

“No, I’m almost positive that he just gave someone else the hit, but continued to blame me.” Bastien replied.

“So Constantine put a hit on her because she had an affair and was going to leave him, but she somehow survived.” Hope said, more to herself than Bastien and Liza, talking it through to understand. “Dr Casey said she had been shot in the head, that it was a miracle she had survived. She was touch and go for awhile, and was unconscious for months, I guess he paid for her care hoping she would just die and his problem would go away.”

Bastien nodded in agreement. “So she’s conscious now?” He questioned.

“Yes, but the swelling was so severe she lost all of her memory. She has no recollection of who she is or where she’s from, even what happened. At first they had hoped that the memory loss was temporary. Without knowing who she was I was to be made a ward of the state when I was born, Dr Casey fought to be able to adopt me to keep us together. She named me Hope because she hoped my placement would be temporary.” Hope replied. “Would you like to see her?” She questioned rising.

Bastien nodded as he rose. Liza hesitantly stood up, following them both down the hall. Her racing mind tuning out their conversation.

Hope offered a soft smile as she opened the door to her mother’s room, “I’ll give you a minute.”

“Thank you.” Bastien replied as he walked into the room. He walked towards the imposing hospital bed where Emmaline laid sound asleep. He sat in the chair by her bed, taking her hand in his, “oh Emmy, you should have let me help you. You would have been safe, Hope would have had us both. Liam would have had the childhood he deserved and you wanted for him. You should have let me help you.” He said softly, his thumb rubbing along the back of her hand.

Liza watched from by the door not wanting to be in the way. She bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep the tears at bay as she watched him just staring and talking to the sleeping form. Was I ever the woman he loved or was I always the other woman? She felt her heart break in two, she shook her head, trying to shoo the doubts away. Maybe if she was stronger, less broken she wouldn’t doubt his love, but the broken shell she was couldn’t help but fear that she was watching as she lost him. Her heart crumbled as she started to believe her deepest doubts and fears. She wasn’t sure she could ever get over this heartbreak.

A small warm hand on her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts, making Liza jump. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Hope said softly.

Liza offered her a small forced smile, only Olivia and Bastien would notice it was fake.

“He really loved her, huh?” Hope asked gesturing to her parents.

Liza winced at her words, “yea, I guess he did.” Maybe he still does.

“Why didn’t he look for her?” Hope questioned.

Liza wanted to snap at the younger girl, demand she stop making her think about the man she loved loving someone else, but she knew she was only curious. Liza knew Hope didn’t realize how much it hurt her to think of them together, didn’t know how broken she’d become in the past few weeks. “He was told she was dead, there was no reason for him to doubt it. Everyone thought she was dead.”

***

Liam returned from the director's office, they had a million questions for him as he claimed Jane Doe, his mother, none of them he could answer. His blood had begun boiling before long at their incessant questions, he didn’t understand why his father would leave her there under Jane Doe while he continued to pay for her care. If he had to guess he would say Hope had something to do with his father’s unwillingness to claim his mother. The realization that he had a sibling left him reeling. Finding his mother and his sister should have been a happy occasion, the truth the facts staring back at him when he looked at Hope just furthered his anger at Bastien.

Liam still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his mother would go behind his father’s back like that. They had always been happy, there is no way she would willingly cheat on father! His hatred towards Bastien grew, the flames of fury fanned by the depth of betrayal by a man that he had once trusted and cared for.

Liam bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his rage in check. His call to Bastien had been a moment of weakness, he needed to control himself and contain his rage. He needed to be careful and keep his hand concealed as he worked out his new plan of retribution.

Liam clenched his jaw, his hands balling up into fits as he rounded the corner. Seeing Hope standing outside with the woman who’s picture he had stared at for weeks had him seething. Who the hell does he think he is coming here to see her?! “Bastien!” He shouted as she stormed in the room past Liza and Hope.

Bastien looked up from Emmaline, quickly vacating the seat by her bed.

“Liam!” Hope exclaimed, grabbing at him, her grey eyes wide as saucers. “Please not here.” She pleaded.

Liam shrugged her hand off of his arm, he should have known she would side with her father. What lies has he filled her head with?

Bastien slowly, purposefully walked towards Liam, his hands up in a placating manner. He could understand his anger towards him, he needed to explain the truth to him, but he needed to do it carefully, he refused to allow the three woman, or anyone else, to become collateral damage. “Hope is right, let's take this outside as to not startle Emmaline.”

Liam flexed his hands, trying to relieve some of the tension, he spun on his heel and stalked out to the lobby. He stopped and turned as he reached the front desk, his need to expose Bastien for the traitor he was to everyone in the room winning out. He turned, narrowing his eyes at Bastien. His lips twitched, he tried to to conceal his smile when he saw Liza and Hope following Bastien. At least now she will learn the truth of her father! “You made me look like an idiot! You made me feel weak! You made me question every decision I made because I felt bad about what happened with Liza, and the entire time you knew! You knew my mom was pregnant and you were the father and you tried to kill her because of it!” Liam shouted, the vein in his neck pulsing with every word. How dare he come here, and act like he had any rights? Bastien was the reason she was even there, he could have grown up with his mom if it wasn’t for Bastien Lykel. God, I’m such a fucking fool! I felt bad for him! He didn’t want the first child, he didn’t deserve this one! His hands curled into fists, he would end this right here, right now if he had to.

“The only one that made you look weak was the man standing in front of me! You made yourself weak by listening to your father! I never knew! If I had, I would have insisted that she let me help her. She wanted to leave, she wanted to get you out, but she didn’t want me involved more, she was trying to protect me when I should have been protecting them. I thought if I left she’d be safe, that she’d get out without my help. She said she had help! I never should have left, I never should have trusted——“ Bastien countered, shaking his head. It was obvious the younger man was angry and would never listen. Liam had every right to be angry at him, he failed Emmaline and their child. Dammit why didn’t she tell me?!

“Shouldn’t have trusted who? Who else could have wanted my mother dead?” Liam asked, scoffing. He’s just spouting lies, trying to make me feel sorry for him! He wouldn’t concede, he wouldn’t listen to a word that came out of the bastard who took his mother away from him.

“Constantine, that’s who! Why would I kill her? I love her! Had I known she was pregnant she wouldn’t be here, she would be safe with me!”

Liza let out a choked sob at his words, her heart shattering into a million pieces. I love her, he said love, not loved! She felt like a fool to ever think she could make him happy. Maybe this is why I lost the baby, cause he already had everything he wanted but didn’t know. Liza turned on her heel and ran, she couldn’t stay, she needed to leave, she needed to escape. I should have left when I had the chance! She couldn’t watch him be happy, live the life that was taken from them, the thought of watching his happiness with someone else made her heart twist into knots. She hopped in a just vacated cab, her need to get far away guiding her. She looked down at her phone through tear filled eyes, fat tears splattering the screen obscuring the screen. She wiped the screen with her shirt, then pulled up her contacts. She texted the only person she knew she could count on in that moment. The only person that would help her no matter what, zero questions asked. She needed the one person she knew wouldn’t judge her.  

L- I need to get away. Can I please come see you?

P- Anytime, you know that. Are you okay?

L- I’m fine, or I will be. I’ll explain everything when I get there, promise.

P- Okay, just promise me you’ll be safe.

L- I will.

Liza tucked her phone back in her pocket, her father had been right all along, she needed someone with a normal mundane job. Being with a mobster would only ever bring her pain.

What was I thinking? Why did I think this was real? Liza never thought she would end up so devastated. It didn’t seem fair, she’d been so close to being happy with him forever, then one by one the rugs were pulled out from under her.

Bastien snapped his head to Liza when he heard her unsuccessfully stifle her cry. Shit! “Liza!” Bastien shouted, as he ran, following her out of the lobby. He stood frozen as he watched her cab drive off, he was too late she was gone. 

Crimson Rain Masterlist

Masterlist

Tags: @imafictosexual @speedyoperarascalparty @liamxs-world @annekebbphotography @tanyaschoices @hopefulmoonobject @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @ao719 @blackwidow2721 @katurrade @leelee10898 @stopforamoment  @akrenich @gardeningourmet @bella-ca @carabeth @bobbersb-fanficfun  @endlessflame @kadencantarella @innerpostmentality @imma-winchester-addict @tornbetween2loves @cora-nova @indiacater @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @darley1101 @choiceslife @alexpottrechoices  @lolablackwrites @daniv2278 @sleepwalkingelite @gibbles82

[keeyo7]

Spontaneous Asks

Here are some questions from a thing.

How does Mad Men end?

What is your favorite food to eat when you’re feeling sad? And if you don’t feed your feelings like I do why are you a robot?

Do you have a perpetual age in your head that when you think of yourself at that age and if so what is that age and why?

Who was your hero growing up? Fictional or otherwise. And if you could would you trade places with that hero?

What was the first time you experienced the emotion “humiliation?”

If someone asked you when you were 13 years old who are the 5 people you’d invite to a dinner party who would you have said?

Where were you when you realized god was a holy implausible lie?

What’s your favorite invention? How many inventions do you think there are?

What do you like most about yourself?

What animal would you save from extinction if you could?

What is the earliest memory you have of doing something cruel?

What is the thing you desire that you are ashamed of desiring?

Do you have social anxiety and if so how does it manifest?

Why did you choose that outfit today?

Did you ever name your car? If not, what the hell is wrong with you?

Do you believe in ghosts? Where is your evidence?

Why would you never talk to your cousin again if you needed a reason?

You win a contest which allows you to draft a 28th amendment to the constitution, guaranteed to pass. The only stipulation is that it must be food-related. What is your amendment?

Gun to your head - choose a reality competition show to come to your home.

Sir or Madam, how do you sleep at night?

When was the last time that you felt furious?

What ridiculous formality do you slavishly observe?

If you were forced to make a career change, and your success was guaranteed, what would you do?

What was the last thing you've done that you've considered 'brave'?

When did you realize you weren't alone?

If you could eat all the dessert and never have any ill effects, but all you could eat is dessert, would you?

What's the worst advice you've ever received?

You can use your rib to make another living thing, but not a human, what do you make?

What is your earliest memory?

If you could be invisible and go visit a current celebrity's home, who would it be?

Corn or Flour?

If days of the week had colors, what color would each day be and why?

What was your best mistake?

You can switch bodies with one person for one day - who would that be? And describe your one day as that person.

What is one event that you would go back and change in your life?

What's one thing that everyone in the United States can agree on?

How do you want people to remember you after you die?

What's the worst fear you ever overcame, and how did you overcome it?

What's the dumbest thing that ever sent you to the emergency room?

What is a trait of yours that other people compliment you on most often?

What's the deal with Mario Lopez?

What's the best gift you've ever given?

What is the loudest thing you've ever heard?

If you could spend a week in any TV show, what would it be?

Would you rather live without electricity, or a toilet forever?

What is your million-dollar idea?

Does everyone deserve to be heard?

What about baseball?

What's a good New Years's resolution?

How are eyeglasses made?

Which person (any person) would make the best sibling?

What is something you've considered telling one or both your parents but have not?

If you were to be a famous religious leader who would you be?

Do you toilet paper every toilet seat you use or is there a public toilet you wouldn't?

What laws do you regularly break?

Was your parent's divorce your fault?

If you were going to get a tattoo in one hour, what would you get?

Why is the suit purple like this pen?

When was the last time you told your parents and siblings you loved them?

Can you fix a bad kisser?

What book influenced you most as a kid?

Why the long face?

When's the last time you felt tricked?

Who would you kill first if murder was legal?

What existing superhero do you relate too?

Define magic

If you met yourself as a child, would the child you honestly like the adult you?

What was the last item you donated to charity?

What bad job of yours would you erase from your personal timeline?

Data or data, how do you pronounce it and why?

What's your favorite Prince song?

What was the singular childhood trauma that has defined you as an artist?

What sport would you play if you had all the physical ability but no mental awareness?

Whose hair would you like to find in your soup?

What toy from your childhood do you miss the most, and if it broke, how?

What is the first thing you broke that wasn’t yours?

What kind of small business would you like to own?

What was the last dream you can remember, and why do you think you dreamed it?

Who was your childhood hero? Are they still?

Do you consider cheeseburgers to be a part of the sandwich family?

Did silent movies have to be pitched back in the twenties?

Do you still eat pudding as an adult?

It's 3am, you're up. What are you doing?

What brings you fulfillment?

When did you first realize you didn't fit into society?

If you could eat one fruit for the rest of your life, what would it be?

What's the most fun you've had in a hospital?

What is your sliding doors alternate career?

Why do you care about God?

Where was the first slice of pizza you bought as a youngster?

Who was your mentor getting into your profession?

When did your parent or caregiver most hurt your feelings?

What is the first joke you laughed at?

What was your first suit?

What day would you like to go back and re-live? PS: You can go back to change things?

How did the movie The Sandlot effect your life? If you haven't seen it, what is the medical condition that prevented you?

What's the song to which you lost your virginity?

What happens if the Supreme Court gets rid of Roe v. Wade?

Have you ever called 9-1-1 to help a stranger? Tell us why?

At this very moment, a health inspector is about to walk into your home. What rating would your kitchen receive?

What sport or game could you kick my ass in?

Are you a bad girl? Are you? Are you?

What is the last great meal you ate and who did you eat it with and what did you talk about?

What clubs were you in in high school?

What do you do for exercise?

Have you ever been arrested?

In an apocalypse, what will be the most valuable item to trade?

If you could remain one age for your entire life, what age would it be and why?

What food item have you consumed the most of in your lifetime?

What's the most scared you've ever been?

What animals have you seen in the wild?

What song do you always have stuck in your head?

When was the last time you cried out of happiness?

Stipulating that there's nothing wrong with "here", if you could be anywhere else right now, where would that be?

What is the most embarrassed you've ever been?

What was the worst encounter with a stranger you ever had?

What is the best or worst travel injury you've sustained?

When did you first learn what sex was, and how?

When is the last time you vomited?

What ingredient would you remove from the world and why?

What is the first song you remember hating?

Tell me something your hometown is known for?

Who was your best friend as a child and what would you do together?

Which job from earlier in your life would you like to do again, and what would it have to pay?

What's a memory from your childhood you wish you could change?

At what point in your life did you feel your most 'hot' and most 'not'?

Is it racist to do an Italian accent?

What is your favourite font?

What time period do you think you belong in?

What movie have you lied about seeing?

How do you feel about your eye colour?

When was the last time you pretended to know something?

How many times have you googled yourself this week?

What do you think is your finest quality? What do you think is your worst?

Have you ever gotten lost?

At what moment have you felt the most adult?

If you could only eat one type of cuisine for the rest of your life, what would it be?

What is the best gift your parent ever gave you?

Favorite author when you were a teen and why?

What flaw in your character has been most beneficial in your life?

What's your favorite ancient civilization,and why?

Have you ever stolen anything?

Have you ever had a religious experience?

Do you know your neighbors, or do you try avoid them and why?

Choose one exotic pet: macaw, tortoise, boa or alpaca. You must choose.

Of all life's great firsts, which was your favorite?

What movie universe would you most want to live in?

What is your most embarrassing superstition?

Are you excited for the singularity or are you terrified?

Name three celebrities you would recruit to your post-apocalyptic survival team and why?

What's the best thing to find underwater?

Lyft drivers: What do you think?

How many eggs can you eat in one sitting?

What is your least favorite question strangers often ask you?

Would you invite yourself somewhere?

What is a place that gives you immediate joy?

It's 1967, you're in San Francisco: what are you up to?

If you were going to commit a crime, what crime would you commit?

What do you want someone to whisper in your ear?

What is your biggest failure?

Why are you here?

If you were to name a star, what would the name be?

Which one of your family members reminds you most of Denzel Washington?

What is a dream you've had that is actually interesting?

What would you have your evil twin do, if you had an evil twin?

If the purge were real, who would you kill first?

Hi, hello, are you single, and will you date me? I'll make you so happy.

What is a time in your childhood that you were at your happiest?

Who was you favorite teacher?

If someone wrote a musical about your life, what would it be called and what would it be about?

What's a style concept that you've always wanted to try (mohawk, tattoo, piercing)?

You can make a souvenir penny machine for any person, place, or thing - what would you make it for, and why?

If you were calming eating, say, a banana split, and you looked across the room and saw yourself from five minutes earlier, what you you do?

If your spirit animal were an animal you had met or seen, who would it be?

If you were born the opposite sex, what would your name, personality, and occupation be?

Do you pretend to like/read famous writers when they die?

Why are you here?

What's your first memory?

What song do you put on when a hook up is coming over?

What is the most romantic country in the world and why?

How many kangaroos are in the San Antonio zoo?

What was your first pet's name?

What was your first job?

If you could start any conspiracy theory what would it be?

You have full funding to recreate any album with you as the lead singer, what album do you choose?

Are there any recurring dreams that are significant to you?

Worst first kiss?

When was the last time you were in a stream?

What is your relationship with God like?

Who is your secret crush right now?

Where do you plan to spend the apocalypse?

Which celebrity would you like to die in the arms of?

If you were a neighborhood in either Los Angeles or New York, which would be and why?

If you could be killed by any weapon (not gun), what would it be and why??

How are you like your parents, good and bad?

If you could go back in time and kill one person, who would it be?

What is your favorite vacation destination?

What was the last thing you did that made you feel like a kid?

When was the most attractive you've ever felt?

What is the most uncomfortable place you have sneezed?

If you could make a themed restaurant, what would it be?

[tits-tea-tats]

Being a Tattoo Artist isn’t all that it’s hyped up to be

As you develop your individual skills and share your work with the world around you, people will take advantage of your cheaper Apprentice Pricing tattoos, which is fine, and serves the purpose of collecting a clientele base.

But that’s where it starts, People being attracted to an artist for their cheaper rates. Not for the artists unique style, not for the person behind the gloves putting this permanent artwork into your flesh, not for the level of professionalism and care the artist exercises because it is not only our job but our passion, not for the physical and mental preparatory measures we take to ensure a great and smooth tattoo session. I ignored the early warning flags, I knew that would be part of the game until I built a name and reputation for myself.

Eventually, you become JUST a tattoo artist. Here where I live, you’re almost a dime a dozen. If you can’t do the job for that price, they will just go to the next artist. Sure you have your group of loyal clients, some of whom you actually form friendships with, but bottom line for most people, new and old clients, you’re nothing special. If not beause of the pricing, there will be another reason they won’t like you and it won’t be anything you can do about it.

They don’t care what’s happening in your personal life, they don’t want anything possibly messing up their scheduled appointment, Gods forbid if you have a family emergency and need to rebook, and you could treat them like gold for years of working for them, and if there’s one honest hiccup, you’re the worst piece of shit and they are demanding their money back or are sending you pictures of them getting your perfectly in progress or finished work covered or lasered OUT OF SPITE.

We don’t deserve that treatment as artists or as people, but we accept it. WHY? Is it only here? Where is the mutual respect? The human compassion? Tattoos have become a greedy luxury for a big part of the population

Artists are generally very emotional, open, sensitive beings who are well in tune to people and feelings, it’s our strength that makes us great at deciphering through your thoughts and creating a piece of art that genuinely resonates with you. Don’t use our natural way of being against us.

I am blessed to have the now small loyal group of clients/friends who will message me out of the blue and ask “how was your weekend?”, “sorry to hear about your grandfather”, “we should hangout sometime!”. Thank you. You seriously do not know how touching that simple gesture is to me, of caring about me beyond my ‘Tattoo Artist’ facade. Tattoo artists are people, we hurt, we love, we have many other hats waiting to be worn on the hanger after you leave your appointment, same as anyone with a job. You are more than just what you do for a profession.

I’ve ‘lost’ the closests people, dearest to my heart, to being a tattoo artist. Longtime friends getting in touch to hangout and catch up turned to ‘hey I’m home this weekend think you can fit me in for a new tattoo?’. Which isn’t all their fault, as we are busy artists with full schedules, and planning things with friends and family can seem impossible at times.

Family of a tattoo artist are the ones who feel our ‘loss’ the most, after us. It breaks my heart knowing that the lifestyle and schedule of a tattoo artist has negatively changed my familial relationships. It’s all they know of you after a while, tattooing is all you do, everyday, every weekend they want you to join them in something fun, everytime you may be late to or not able to attend a family gathering or birthday. As a person who grew up in a tight-knit family, I now feel very selfish and like I’m thought of holding no value in family, which is so far from the truth and it hurts me deeply.

Of course I don’t mind tattooing friends and family though, I love tattooing, I love using my talents to make people happy and feel good about themselves for getting through a painful but meaningful tattoo. To give them a visual of their lifes experiences. But I’m rarely left feeling appreciated and good about myself in turn. I feel used. I feel undesirable as anything other than a tattoo artist. It’s all I have time for in the schedule and it’s all that I’m good for. I feel neglected until the situation serves the other person to see me.

Tattooing was NEVER suppose to be like this for me. I got in too deep. Took on anyone who wanted anything, and I wasn’t in a position to be selective on who I wanted to let into my artistic world, into my care, into my heart.

A piece of an artists soul goes into everything they create, whatever art form they craft. I’ve lost a lot of my peices, never to be seen again. I’ve had very few but very hurtful goodbyes from people whom I gave my all to, no matter what was going on in my personal life, I kept a professional face and mindset and gave them the best of me.

Tattooing was never meant to go this way for me. When you carelessly out of genuine passion for the art give pieces of your heart out to many people, you can’t expect to get all your pieces back. You can’t feel whole again. Tattooing the wrong people has done its damage to me as an artist emotionally, mentally and spiritually.

This is the real reason I am ending my tattooing career. I need to protect my vulnerable artist spirit before it’s so hurt and I’m so burnt out from bending over backwards for people who don’t truly care about me that I cannot even bring myself to step on the pedal. To look at beautiful tattoo designs. To offer my individual style and personality to those who get tattooed by me for the right reasons, and who genuinely are interested in what’s going on beyond tattooing. It’s not fair to the good people in my life. To my friends and family. To myself.

I am more than a Tattoo Artist. I am an Artist of many mediums, I am a Nature Lover and crave my outdoors time, I am someone who loves learning about and spending time with my innermost circle of family and friends both old and new. I am a good, kind person who will do anything I can for those I care about. I just want to create beautiful things and feel good about them. I want to feel good about being an Artist. I will never be able to shut that talent or mindset off, I come by it naturally. That’s why I’m getting out of the tattoo industry. It’s not all it’s hyped up to be. Not worth the pain I feel every day. Not worth the emotional drain.

For those artists who are thriving in their profession and have their mental and emotional health, I pray things stay golden for you, you found your ways through the trials and tribulations and are loving what you do every day! There is so much talent out there, I love discovering new artists with their unique styles, and staying updated with my personal favourites 💖🙏🏻

To those artists who may find their feet in similar shoes, I pray you find your way through the hardships and can still enjoy crafting your art in a healthy environment and mindset. It’s so important. Don’t let the artist in you die, don’t give up. Just give the artist in you a more suitable ‘studio’ and/or audience/clientele. If I of all people can do this, I know you can too! 💖🙏🏻

Bless those who see me for me, and choose to have my art on them because they feel the connection and trust I will give my best to them, because I will. Mutual respect and understanding means a lot. We are all just people, and I am ever grateful for the good people in my life who understand all of this too 💖🙏🏻

Tattooing was never meant to end like this for me

“Shout out to the artist who took his heart and his soul and lost them both in the process” - Demon Limbs, Pvris

[emiliomercury]

The Mercury Brothers.

Someone once asked me "What would the tagline of your life be?" and I was in a fucking stump. I mean I have my hobbies, career, family, and my flaws; but does all that sum me up? Would my tagline just be "Regular dude living a regular life"? 

When I was 15 years old my dad took off. He was a low life piece of shit who was too selfish to be a father. He left behind his wife and 6 sons. Can't even count all of us on one hand we were so many. My mom had a mental break down and was basically baby sat by my grandmother for the first 2 years. My oldest brother, Rafael, took over as father figure. He was our rock, our guardian, our savior. 

My brother Luis comes after Raf. He spent time in the military but was honorably discharged after a severe accident that left him... different. Luis is still strong and valiant and an amazing person, but he is not the same man I once knew.

David is the 3rd oldest. He is most definitely the wisest and smartest of all of us. He’s gay and it’s not something we don't really talk about in our family, but we all respect him. It doesn't change the fact that he's our brother and we love him. He’s probably my best friend to be honest.

I came not too long after David, a few years difference. But after me comes Joaquin. He and I are literally 9 months apart, could almost be twins, not identical of course. Joaquin and I are crazy different though. Joaquin is a creative guy, he’s a writer and is super out going. Total opposite of me, probably why we don’t get along well.

Lastly is my baby brother Benicio, Benny for short. He was a few months old when my dad left, so he never got to know him. This kid has become one of the sweetest, most genuine people I have ever met. I like to say I had a hand in raising him and we’re all proud of him and who he’s growing up to be.

I’m from Puerto Rico and even though our life hasn’t been easy, living on a God damn island has been magical. Just a short walk down to the beach and bam your worries would be carried away with the tide. The sun was always warm and comforting, hugging you gently through window blinds. And the nights, oh man those island nights were another world entirely. I wouldn’t change growing up here for anything. Not even if it meant that everything would be a-okay with my dad, screw him.

I kind of live out of a suit case at the moment because of my profession. Though currently I’m residing in L.A. during the off season. I’m a baseball player, scouted when I was in high school. I was never top of my game but man I can run. I can throw and I can really run. I always loved being active since I was a kid. Hiking, swimming, surfing, baseball, jogging, camping. I just love being outside. People say they’re a homebody but stay indoors, which is the correct term, but I like to say I’m a homebody of the outdoor kind. The outdoors is my home. Don’t get me wrong, staying inside for a good movie and some pizza is my definition of awesome, and don’t get me started on video games.

Aside from having amazing siblings, my mom is my main rock. She fought, and continues to fight, her way through depression and severe anxiety. She fought to be there for us through every step of the way. Even when she was recovering at the beginning after my dad left us, she still managed to get out of bed and get us going for school. Sure it came with her being in bed for the rest of the day and not even showering for a days, but she always made sure we were all okay, sacrificing herself in the process. I give back to my family as much as I can these days. I bought my mom a house in Puerto Rico, I helped pay for Raf’s surf shop back home, I hired both Luis and David as my personal trainer and assistant, I tried to help Joaquin with getting his screenplay off the ground but he wouldn’t have it (proud asshole), and well Benny is spoiled and gets whatever he wants. 

At the end of the day I just want my family happy. I want to be the one everyone looks to for help because I will always be there for them. So for that tagline, I guess I’d go for something corny and cliche like “blessed” or something, but you know what? It’s true. I am blessed. So fuck it, I’m a corny dude, I like what I like.